I.
I tried fighting it. The urge, the lust, the will to kill. No, not the will the need. My fiber ached- my body rebelled. The wind, in its ever changing force, was a suitable companion to the volatility that was me. It had been a while since my last kill, my last failure. My last loss of control. I hoped practice would give me more control, but it seemed that the more I honed my control, the more violent, the more deadly my lack of it became.
I had always been a union of opposites.
Tonight was too late. Id begun losing it when I left my home for the city night. I knew that this night could, and would only end with a very red dawn. Id battled with myself a lifetime and was no closer to winning.
It was a beautiful night. Perfect in its utter chaos. The rain hammered the rooftops, deafening in its torrential patter. The thunderstorm, magnificent. In a particularly bright flash, I saw reflected in the water two orbs cold, pale, and burning. I recognized them for my eyes. Searching, hunting. Hungry and filled to the brim with lust
Hed do.
I couldnt for the life of me imagine what he was doing. Alone on a night like this. It was unseasonably cold. It was wet, miserable, terrifying, and beautiful. I didnt care what he was doing. He was marked. I saw it now. I felt the pull as I felt it rising. The urge, the lust, the killing edge. He had to die. It was fate, destiny. I didnt care. I knew it had to happen. I had to make it happen.
So I jumped.
Black, billowing all around me. Id always loved black. Id loved coats that could flow. Dramatic. Lovely. Deadly. Graceful. Softly I fell like an angel, an angel of Death.
It was wet.
It soaked me. He didnt notice the splash. I was silent, too silent. For a second, I wondered how I could be so quiet, how I could survive the fall. The thunder, he couldnt hear me because of the thunder but how the fall? I didnt care. I knew what had to happen.
I was right behind him.
I slid closer. Stalking, flitting between shadows or was I a shadow? I didnt know, I didnt care. The urge was overwhelming, the need. The lust. I had to do it, I needed to do it. I wanted to do it.
So I ripped him apart.
II.
I tried seeking help. It hadnt worked. I woke one morning, the nightmares unusually terrible. Id always known I wasnt singular in my desires. My two halves loathed each other. Id left for a hospital that dealt with lunacy. With freaks. I was sure I was crazy. I was sure I was a freak.
The room unsettled me.
It was too bland. Too impersonal. I didnt like the white walls, the white bed. The white linen or my robes. I didnt like the pale staff in their white uniforms, or the white checklists they walked around with.
I hated white.
But I persevered. I think I answered their questions. My memories are unclear. I wasnt there long. I told them about my eyes I dont think they believed me. I was born with green eyes. Warm, deep, and green like grass, or the Sea. My eyes werent warm anymore.
Id woken up the night after my first kill to the sound of cracking. I didnt know what it was. It seemed as though it was coming from everywhere at once. It took me a while to realize that it was coming from my head. I went to the mirror, to see if I could see this cracking.
I could.
My eyes were cracking. Theres no other way to describe it. I could see the cracks, shattering the warm green leaving streaks of the palest blue. Jokingly society calls eyes windows to the soul. I knew it was true. If there was one thing I was certain of, it was that I was cracking. I was fragmenting, unwinding at the seams. I tried telling them this.
Then I saw her.
She looked tired, worn-down. Haggard. I asked her what was wrong. Nothing. Naturally, everything was fine. It was my condition we should be worrying about. I disagreed. I continued prying, something was terribly wrong with her I could taste it, feel it. Sense it.
She rolled up her sleeves. I looked at her arms. Then I saw it, no, felt it. She was suicidal shed taken something. I could hear it now, poisoning, slowing, and killing her. I could hear her heartbeat weakening by the second.
Then I felt it.
The urge, the lust, the want, the need. I lost myself instantly. It had never been much of a war one side always lost instantly to the other. I could see nothing but her, broken. I tried reaching for her, I couldnt. Why?
I was tied down.
I couldnt reach her. Why was I tied down? I had to reach her. I heard the cuffs snapping. She was starting at me why was she staring at me? I didnt like the staring.
So I took out her eyes.
I howled with pain as I ripped her apart piece by piece. Or was it delight? I chuckled, laughed no I cackled. I stained the white walls red, the linen crimson. I colored the floor and my patients robe the deepest and most beautiful red. Blood red. The best red.
I tried the door. It was locked. I hammered the door it gave way. I wanted to go home, this place couldnt help me. I flowed down the hallway, softly, forcefully red robes billowing. I exulted; delighted in the smell in the gore, in the taste of violence I left behind me.
The hospital was packed, everyone was running screaming. Why were they running? Where were they running? They were running away from me. I didnt blame them.
I was the only dressed in red.
III.
Id always liked winter. It was soft, elegant quiet. It was unforgiving, cold and deadly. Id always felt at home in it. I loved the soft crunch underfoot, the lazy drifting of falling snowflakes.
This place was beautiful.
I wasnt quite sure where it was, but I was positive that it was more or less the middle of nowhere. The trees were lovely. Majestic pines humbled by winter. I could see them straining under the weight of the snow, hear them creaking. So beautiful.
I often forgot what brought me to places. Perhaps I wasnt sure. Id felt a need, then been here. I dont know how. I didnt mind. The cold wouldnt touch me, and it was beautiful. The snow felt wonderful against my skin smooth, soft - Inexplicably soft.
I set about exploring. I felt like I should head towards the cliff over there. So I did. There was something about it comforting, dark, solid. In a landscape all in white, where nothing seemed to have any unique texture, it stood as a colossus. Massive, strong dark and firm. I drew closer, it was beautiful.
I saw that it wasnt all dark. The top of it, snow-covered, was lit by the moon. I leapt up, landing softly on top. The jump was high impossibly high. How? I asked myself.
I stood up.
I could see all around me. The moon was nearly full pale, cold, beautiful. It lit everything in the softest silver shimmer. I sat down. It was silent. So very silent.
I saw something in the distance.
It clashed with its surroundings. In all this white there was a rising grey. Smoke. I smelled it now someone was out there, with a fire. Camping? At this time of year? I leapt from my perch.
I remember the jump it was longer than I thought. I counted seconds as I fell hurtling. I remember falling, quickly heavy, like a meteor falling from above. I landed, softly. The contrast seemed impossible but I didnt mind. It was exhilarating, then perfect in its stillness. Silent, graceful dramatic and deadly. A soft breeze brought me the scent.
Fire, smoke and something else. I set off, a cold gleam to my eyes. I heard a shuffling, a beast? No. A man? Why was he out here? I couldnt see him. Where was he? I saw him.
He was cold.
I approached him, he didnt see me. I circled him, curious. Cautious. Why was he out here? Why was he cold? It wasnt cold I flexed my toes, digging them deeper into the snow. The snow was pleasant, cooling.
I could hear him mumbling through the sound of his teeth chattering. He was lost. I felt sorry for him being lost on a night like this was horrible. I followed him a while, he wasnt making any progress. The stench of his fire how did he not smell it? It was right behind him, not more than a minute away.
He was going the wrong way.
The man was disoriented. Hed probably not eaten, or drunk for a while. He was beginning to lose his wits too the cold did that to you. I didnt think hed make it.
I felt it.
The world disappeared around me the snow, the moon, and the trees- everything but him. He had to die. He was going to die. If not to the cold, then to me. To me, let it be to me.
I followed him a while, relishing the moment. His smell the smell I can never describe. The smell they all share. I began to tire of waiting, the lust too much. I needed it now. I leapt forward, impossibly far, I landed on top of him hurtling him to the ground. He screamed.
He ruined the quiet.
I couldnt stand that the silence was so perfect. I ripped off his head. It shut him up. I took a while to just listen, to the silence, to the perfection. Then I tore the rest of him apart.
I looked at my hands could they really be called hands? They were silver, until the nails the claws. Those were red, the moonlight not able to warp the thick crimson. I laughed, I howled.
I delighted.



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