Sometimes I wonder why he does it. Why he comes to my room in the night to offer himself. His gift. A touch. A taste. Brief, but cleansing. Clearing. Healing.
I never ask why he comes. I don't dare. If I asked he might tell me. Tell me that he knew. Knew that it was the only way. The only way to appease my hunger. The only way to satiate the raging need inside me. To keep it at bay for another day.
I wonder sometimes what would happen if he didn't come. How long could I last before I sought out what I so need? Could I go a day? A week? Two?
How long until I succumbed drained some stranger dry, just to feel alive.
Am I strong enough to tell him no? To pull away? To stop. Will this be the night I hold on? Take everything that he is. Everything I want to be.
One more day. One more night.
He came again tonight. Maybe tonight I will have the courage to tell him to go. To stop offering himself. The others think it's sweet. Him checking on me. They don't know the darkness that lurks in here. In both of us.
He stands at the door. His eyes dark and hungry. I wonder, does he need this too? Does he need to feel my soft hands on his face my breath on his mouth as I feed? Does he need to hear the words I whisper so desperately? Does he know how much I need him? Need this?
He steps toward me, his eyes dark. I don't need a mirror to know that the same savage hungry glint is in mine, too. He doesn't see it though. He never sees it. Because he doesn't want to.
In his eyes, I am an angel. A pure soul. His salvation.
He asks. I nod and reach for him. My gloved hands sliding up his chest and neck, cradling his face. "I love you." I whisper. Afraid to mean it. Afraid of what it means. What it might mean if I could say it in the light of day instead of here, hushed and whispered in the darkness.
My name is on his breath as I press my lips to his. I need that as much as I need the rest. I think he knows that.
He purges himself into me. Lets me drain away the ugliness, the beast that rages within him. Lets me give him a few blessed hours of peace.
And I pull all that he is into myself. Deeper. Filling every pore as he overwhelms Marie... Rogue... all the others.
It's the only time I feel alive anymore. Feeling his energy course through my blood. The clearer sounds, the sharper scents, his thoughts and memories swirling in my head. In those instants, I know why he does it.
And it makes me sick.
He comes because he needs it. Needs me to love him, to have a pure soul take him in her arms and tell her everything's fine.
Pure.
Something I can't really remember being. Something I haven't been in a long time. Something I want to be again.
I stand, bathed in the moonlight, his unconscious body at my feet and I wonder. Would an innocent cleanse me as I cleanse him? Could I suck the purity and innocence from another and make myself whole again? Would that do it?
The tears stream down my cheeks. I know it won't. It can't. It would take hundreds, if not thousands, to balance the darkness within my soul. But sometimes, some nights, even as his rage batters my fragile resolve, I can hear his voice whisper: "Pure... innocent...love."
And I can almost remember. But as I stroke his cheek, I know this has to end. I can't take the lie anymore. I'm not what he imagines, what he believes.
I need him to see the darkness. I need him to see me.
I stare out the window and await the dawn, knowing that it will destroy us both.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
This is not beta'd. It just screamed WRITE ME... and I have zero willpower. I just hope it doesn't suck.