Black Blood [Mylee]

Patch Grey

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Patch stared at her. He stared into the eyes that he loved the eyes that could light up his world and the only thing in the world that could stop him. Patch’s fists slowly slackened as his rage eased. No other person in the world could, make Patch so calm this quickly and to be honest no person in the world could calm Patch down except for Leah. She was and always will be to him his star, she was the good to his bad and there was a lot of bad in Patch. Patch was known for picking a fight for the most stupid reasons. He was known for killing a boy, but was never caught as they had no proof. It had looked like the boy had hung himself. Who had been his constant companion through all this? Leah. Now he stood facing her his face tied in a deep scowl.

He had been about to punch a little boy no older than six in the face. He had been about to kill that little boy for poking his tongue out at Patch. Patch had growled kicking the little boy. His mother had stupidly stood in between. Patch instantly hit her knocking her out cold. He had been about to hit the cowering, crying little piece of crap when Leah popped in. The sight of her made Patch melt, she was everything he wanted, calm, patient, bloodthirsty and beautiful. She was perfect. Now Patch stood staring into her angry eyes. Patch never felt bad, except when Leah was disappointed in him. He was a whole different person around Leah. Patch glared at Leah.

She returned his glare colder. Patch didn’t want to cause a scene not like he already had , stepping over the dead unconscious mother Patch walks away. It took every scrap of energy he could to not turn around. Patch walked away from no fight. He never loosed. Sometimes every relationship has its problems. Patch took one last look in time to see Leah help the very confused mother to her feet. Than the brick wall of the dirty district nine street covered them. This street was quiet, it was nice and peaceful. It was unusual for a street at this time of the day to be quiet. People were normal out and about this late in the evening. A time when the cold weather gave a short respite, when the sun seemed to be at its hottest; the best part of a winter day.

Patch felt no happiness or glee, all he felt was a burning hatred to kill everyone in the district. He wanted to see them cry in pain, he wanted them to cower beneath him. It felt so good when you saw people cringing from you, when you saw people in agony because of what you had done. Patch smiled to himself, it quickly turned into a scowl as he realised as long as Leah was around he would never have that. Even though she loved blood and pain as much as he did, she didn’t want to go on killing sprees. She had to have a purpose, fun wasn’t good enough. Scowling Patch glares at the brick wall in front of him. It was stained and old. Perfect to take his anger out on. With the ease of practice and with a lot of frustration Patch punches the brick wall. His knuckles slam into the wall, and he flinches in pain. A bone snaps and he drags his hand away, leaving behind a smear of blood.

It felt good.

Patch eyes the bloodied hand, it looked horrible and he was sure that he had broken his middle finger and had dislocated another, but the pain felt good. Patch wasn’t afraid of it and the painful throb in his hand only egged him on. He wanted to find someone, someone for him to sure the pain with. The little boy hadn’t gotten it, the mother had gotten a little, but Leah had stopped it all from getting too carried away. There was no one here to stop Patch now. His cold eyes scan the empty street and with a grin that looked something from a horror movie he headed away to find someone to give a little pain to.