A Sort of Reunion [Chaos]

Clandestine darkness throbs on the edges of my vision, writhing tendrils sending out probing shadows to try and drag me down into blood fueled insanity. I'm already half-way there; the thrumming of his heart calls to my gorge in a way that a steak would call to a starved man. The flesh in my mouth is warm and sticky - it slides easily into my stomach. Breathing audibly through my mouth I bare my teeth at the familiar stranger in front of me, red strands loose around her shoulders and face stained with fear. Why is she tickling the edges of my memory? She's of no importance.

Again I swivel back to the man I'm straddling. I know nothing more than he has caused such undeniable heartache and should, no, needs to be punished. What for eludes me, yet this notion remains strong. But he sleeps. This won't do.

Hands clamping ferociously along his neck, a feral mockery of a grin pulls across my bronzed skin as he struggles desperately for air in unconsciousness. A bizarre feeling of righteous justice fills the cavity of my chest where a soul is supposed to be, and my throat twinges in agreement. Where did I get these wounds? A low chuckle of warped entertainment as his eyes fly open, thrashing valiantly at his bonds. A wave of sudden disgust so fierce it makes me blink washes over me, and I backhand him, an impulse that gives out a satisfying crack.

"Glad you could join the party." I hiss, voice so low it would be mistaken for a man's if not for the decidedly feminine lilt to some letters. In his eyes are an unidentifiable anger, but an undercurrent of fear that makes the monstrous side of my soul jump in joy. My hands lean over both sides of his face and jaws part; hot breath ghosting his face. He flinches and tries to squirm away, but the unknown bonds hold him tight. "What... what are you?" A simple smile shuts him up - insanity clearly written across my face.

My head descends so that my lips are touching the taut skin of his neck; he shudders violently and attempts to twist away. Hovering millimeters from what I need my muscles tense with preparation, but a muffled noise catches my attention. Raising my head suspiciously, I'm puzzled to see the redhead sobbing into her hands, murmuring a name. Tammy? Who's Tammy?

Again I try to finish the job, but I find that with her near it becomes impossible to let my teeth sink in and find purchase. Agitated, I snarl and shift my weight. With one unreadable look at the disgusting man below I bunch my legs under me and lunge.

For a moment I'm vaguely surprised at the weakness I feel; body protesting loudly with this simple movement. Still I land my target and a screech of rage is pulled in time to when I crash into the girl, landing in a heap of tangled limbs. Lips pulled back to expose teeth stained scarlet I try to articulate words, finding it difficult in both my state of mind and my unknown affliction. "Who... w-who you?" Her face is so familiar, and my skin tingles when a nail traces the contures of her jaw. It's like her body molds perfectly underneath my touch.

Don't be stupid. I thrash my head violently, eyes frenzied. "Sh-shut up! No want, no!" It takes me a moment to realize that it wasn't even the monster, but my own thoughts conspiring against me. Overcome with the urge to silence my thoughts I lurch down so that my face is level with her neck but conflicting thoughts echo in my mind.

Kill. Protect. Kill. Protect. killprotectkillprotectkillprotect

The stnrage feral longing to spare her life wins over the blood pumping through her veins. Again I look up at her teary green eyes, and a twinge of something alights in my chest. A letter forms in my mind. So red it could be considered purple, with swooping lines by an elegant hand.

K.

What the hell is K supposed to mean? Upon further inspection of the girl's decidedly porcelain features, I feel the blind rage being replaced by something akin to curiosity. I take her face in my hands, tiliting to the side in confusion. I swear I know her.

Ka.

Fragmented thoughts unique to the animal state of mind begin to form more rational sentences. Still, I'm no closer to knowing what my mind is trying to tell me.

"K..." I begin, testing the letters carefully. "Ka..." The monster waits under the surface, amused with my floundering attempts at figuring things out. Tongue darting out to lick dry lips, I try again.

Kay.

"K-Kay... Ka," Frustrated, I unconsciously dig my hands into the wooden flooring underneath our feet.

Kaya.

...writhing bodies entangled in sheets, a myraid of sounds as skin slides against skin. A hand tangled into my mess of black locks as I'm guided downwards, glancing up to view the face of an angel trapped in ectasy with her flaming hair spread about like a halo...

Blinking furiously with a startling heat flushing through my core, I stare down at the girl below me. No, that's not right. Kaya. Her name is Kaya. Grinning now, I float down so our noses are almost touching. "Kaya." The word sounds right on my tongue, like it was meant to be there. But key gaps are still missing; what else do I need to know? Yet another name rolls from my lips without consent, bringing with it a strong sense of foreboding.

"Trig." And another. "Flight. Robert. Ria. Dwyn. Luna. T-Tammy." Confusion. "Tammy?" A glance down. Realization. "Oh God..." Horror. "Kaya!" Shame.

Memories come flitering back slowly, I'm struck rigid in place as they flash before my eyes. A boy with flaming red hair. Trig. A man with burning hatred and an ugly sneer, hands curled into fists and a shock of rusty hair unkempt. Robert. A tall girl with a mouth that defaults to smirk and too much heartache hidden in her striking golden eyes. Flight. Just a small child of seven or eight, dark skin accented with a pair of sapphire orbs. Ria. A shorter girl with flowing blond hair and calculating ice for eyes, but a special warmth flickering inside like a lantern. Dwyn. Hair black as midnight and eyes like the starry sky, with a tender smile and worried posture. Luna. A younger version of the heartache girl, with eyes that seem much less broken and a face without the rage. Tammy.

Numbly I sink down until my head rests against her breastbone, trying to work past the knot of steel in my throat. Despite my injures prior, all the words come out in one big rush. OhGodI'msosorryKayasosorrypleasedon'tbemadGodI'msorry I keep mumbling the mantra over and over to myself, trying so hard to keep the crackling from my voice. Often I slip and stumble on the words, slurring them but it doesn't matter. She's seen, she's seen what I've become. That was one thing I never would have wished on her, ever. The remains of bestial bloodlust drains to nothingness and my sanity returns.

Or what's left of it.

My nails grip my scalp as a keening noise is pulled from my throat; a distress signal that appears whenever I've had a monster related bout. I'm covered in blood, it's all over me and Kaya and the floor and oh God I'm so hungry, I want nothing more than to tear into his flesh and drink--

No! Not with Kaya here. I scared her half to death already.

Fool, just a little bit. It won't have to be fatal, just to take off the edge.

A ripple of beastial hunger flows through me as the man's tortured moan reaches my ears, and I unconsciously let out a low, ragged breath through my mouth, head turning to meet him. He writhes on the floor, clutching the gaping wound in his arm where it will undoubtedly take ages to heal. The blood is so close and I feel it taunting me, urging to just take another bite and feel the relief that always appears whenever I do this but it's bad, badbadbadbad and I can't because this is wrong and I'm wrong and, and...

Clutching my head in my hands I let out a low moan and touch my forehead to the floor, trying to drive my face into the wood to block out the deliciously pained sounds the prisoner is making. They pierce right into that little insane part of my mind, begging me to take advantage of his prone state. Shakily getting up I stagger to where he is, dropping to my knees and placing a hand across his side. He tries to lash out at me but is held in place from the bindings that have gotten tighter over his wrists and ankles, pinning him in place.

Eat. The bloodlust will leave.

Yet I'm now somewhat sane again; the idea both entices and repulses me at the same time. I crouch over his form, hovering inches away from his shining skin. No, I can't, won't. For Kaya's sake. So I freeze, shaking profusely while attempting to deny the urges that have been ingrained into my mind since I was a teenager. Never have I tried to halt this at such a ferocious pace - and usually it would have halted by now. But it's been months since I've last tasted human flesh and the temptation is so great. Drugs were one way of curbing this addiction, but they gave way to another that was much less sinister but much more detrimental. Now that they're gone there's nothing but a constant yearning that is sometimes easy to ignore but at others, impossible.

What did she say? Trig ran? I'm not surprised. To be in the same room with me if you have no prior knowledge of my... insanity is trying at best. Often I remember the doctors either recoiling or watching on in satisfaction as a fellow test subject - ah, I mean, patient - was shoved in the same room as me during my episodes. Sometimes I'd rock in the corner and ignore them, but other sides I would rear back my head and rip them into tiny ribbons, swallowing greedily while the white coats took notes and didn't even bother to stop what I was doing. It's when I realized that I don't need to care, and I'd get along in life just fine. Trig would do well to know that. A brief seed of guilt is quickly snuffed out; I don't even like the kid, he's Kaya's problem.

Kaya. The whole reason I'm fighting this so hard. I meet her eyes and struggle painfully to overcome what I'm doing, what I want to do. Still, there is a dark part of me that wonders how her flesh tastes. While I know from our sexual escapades, I've figured out that directly from the living skin is a much more delicious experience. And if she tasted divine before...

No! I jerk back as if struck; how the hell could I even be considering this? But still I'm called to her, and my feet attempt to shuffle towards her prone form. My toes touch her father's side and I'm overwhelmed with a sense of hatred so fierce it makes my toes curl. Suddenly the answer is in front of me; and while undesirable, it's the only way I can guarantee no harm to my lover. I just hope she won't leave me once she sees what I am.

Planting both arms on his chest and bowing my head, I glance up at her to utter a broken 'I'm sorry' before I bury my face in his side.

His screams mingle perfectly with the suctioned tearing as another chunk of muscle rips from its holding, coming apart just to slither down my throat. Slick from blood and gore scattered around my body, my hands dig into his heaving chest as I slowly tear him apart. I'm so close to his ribs now and my tongue snakes out to trace the bone, nubile white constrasting against the sticky brightness of his exposed flank. I haven't even noticed that his cries have dwindled into nothingness until I come up for air, breath ragged against the silence. Stomach near bursting and yet I crave more want more need more--

Another presence by my side makes me stiffen, lips curling back angrily to snap at anybody who dares intrude upon my moment when a slim hand is placed on my shoulder. The touch shocks me - who would dare hold such a monster? - and so I easily topple over to land with a slight squelsh in the pool of blood around me. Stunned for a moment, it takes a second to trace up the arm to meet Kaya's face, a mix of disgust and fear, but an underlying tenderness that makes my heart jump with hope. Maybe she won't leave after all?

Don't be stupid, look what you've done. Nobody would stay with you after this. A mangled noise rises in my throat, half-escaping my mouth to be swallowed. She doesn't need to hear it. My eyes roam his flesh that has been scored by teeth marks around the gaping hole that used to be his side. He'll have a large crater, if he even survives.

But she loves me. She said so. The monster sneers, showcasing rotting gums with cold anger for eyes. Things change. Look what you've done.

The truth is there in front of me, from the blood staining my hands to the quickly congealing pool of red I'm sitting in. I try to get away but movement stops me; she crouches next to my form, always trying to avoid the battered and ravaged frame of her bastard father. I don't blame her.

Nails sink into my flesh as she grips my head and turns it towards her so that I meet her smoldering olive gaze. Her posture is tense and coiled, but I unconsciously lean into her rough grip. For a second there is something akin to feral need on her beautiful porcelain features before she leans in and smashes her lips to mine.

My breath halts and all types of coherent thought are fragmented into disjointed pieces as her weight is crushed against me. On autopilot I encircle her waist with my arms but don't response, still stunned into stillness. What the hell is she doing? I was just eating her father; is this some kind of mental break? Her taste mixes with the iron tang of liquid life and a low moan rises from my throat, prompting a rational mindset that urges me to respond - which I eagerly do.

She's dominant and that sends a jolt of molten heat right between my legs, opening my mouth to let her in. We're pressed so close against each other its a wonder we're not being fused together. There is something desperate and raw about this that I admittedly enjoy; I could be used to being the submissive a bit more often if she does it like this. Not under these circumstances would be nice, but God....

I shift myself so that I'm kneeling to face her, legs spread for balance and fingers sinking deep into the flesh of her hips. All too soon she pulls away for air and I rumble deep in my chest, aching for her touch. She says something that takes a moment for me to decipher, but when I do it's probably not a good sign that it turns me on from the breathy way that she speaks.

"You promised me that you'd stop killing."

Soundlessly I nod, trying to work up means of speech before I actually responded. I did promise, I admit; but I wasn't planning on killing him anyway, just taking off a few pounds so that I wouldn't kill her.

"W-wasn't going kill. Jus-just hurt so that... no hurt you. Hurt-ting you bad." What am I, Tarzan? But the wound on my throat and the lust that's flowing through my veins makes speaking impossible, and instead I articulate words by surging towards her, once again claiming her blood stained lips in a desperate attempt to feel her and regain my sanity.

My nails rake through my hair in a desperate attempt to regain coherency as she crawls over to the dying man. What the hell was I thinking? The blood-high still rushes through my veins to make me feel jittery and alert, like something is hiding in the shadows at every turn. His moan makes my fingers sink deep into the fragile skin of my scalp in a last-ditch effort to not latch onto whatever shattered remains I can find and drink him dry.

It's like I have an innate sense of death in my head. One look at the disgusting man in front of me and I know he won't make it; I can see the light fading from his eyes. I long to crawl over to him and watch as they extinguish completely, but I've traumatized Kaya enough for one day. So instead I listen to him wheeze his rattling death-song, laughing like his life goal has just been completed. When she announces that he's been cast down to the pits of Hell her voice is void of emotion, and that scares me almost as much as the rippling urges to go over and rip her apart. She's always been so expressive, the monotone doesn't belong with her.

When it finally seems to kick in that yes, he's dead and you're staring at his mangled corpse the redhead skitters backwards only to collide with me. I reach out but she screams and scoots away. It sends a pain through my chest that almost doubles me over.

Have I lost her already?

It looks that way. My breath hitches, and I bite my tongue to stop the agonized noise that threatens to bubble up from my throat.

But I'd die without her! It sneers, full of satisfied rage and unproportioned jealousy.

You've been dead for a long time.

"I don't understand you, Tams. You wanted to... you wanted to k - kill me?" Her voice snaps me from my internal battle and I look up, eyes full of a desperate need for her to understand that I'd never willingly hurt her, even if it meant my own death.

"No, Kaya! Never kill you. Never! Y-you just taste good and monster.... monster want you. But monster," I have to swallow really hard to get past the splitting pain in my throat, trying in vain to suck in lungfuls of air that don't want to be forced past my airways. "Monster won't have you. I l-love you, swear." Something in her eyes change, and I don't have time to haul myself to my feet before she falls limp on the ground with a resounding thud. Quickly I crawl over to her, dragging my body because it refuses to heave upright. I pass my fingers through her hair and across her face, trying to reassure myself that she's here and real and alive. There's no way I'm going to leave her on the floor, but if I try to even pull her up into a seated position my ribs cry protest, and I'm stuck writhing on the floor.

I don't know how long I sat there cradling her head with my hands, before I make up my mind and hope that it doesn't backfire. While earlier I would've fought tooth and nail for otherwise, I don't really have a choice. Taking a glance around I laboriously pull myself up and stumble into the night.

Spatters of water hit my face, dribbling down my jaw to spiral down onto the broken concrete below. Still it does nothing to even begin to wash away what's in my clothes or my hair or even under my nails. One hand comes up to cradle my throbbing side, gritting my teeth against the whistling cold. Positively sucking in air I manage to pull myself up the wooden steps, and pound furiously on the door to the little house. "Hanna! Open, please! N-need help!" There's scurrying on the other side and at once the gentle woman materializes in the doorway. She takes one look at my exhausted and blood-coated frame and while shock is there, doctored expertise takes over. She rushes me inside, issuing a stern bed order to a gaping Ria.

"What happened? Are you hurt?" I shake my head and flick away the offers of a chair with a wave of my wrist, knowing that if I sit down now I'll never get up. Instead I simply lean against the wall, closing my eyes for a second so that the room will stop spinning. "Pills." I spit out, hating the fact that I need them now like I needed them back in my druggie days. "Need pills. Please. She stares at me in disbelief for a second, before vanishing around the corner. I take the time to carefully shift my weight so that it's not as noticable which side I'm favouring.

Moments later she returns with the baggie, and holds out the pretty little pills that sing to me in a language only a true stoner understands. Dipping my head in thanks, I take them and begin to limp towards the door, but her voice stops me. "What's going on?" Pausing, I throw an unreadable look over my shoulder before I disappear once again into the cold.

When I'm back in the house the smell of blood overwhelms and threatens to throw me into another fit of insanity, but I grit my teeth and instead limp towards the kitchen. With shaking hands I unscrew the bottle, and glare at the little soldiers that shiver in my hold. Not knowing how many I have to take I tap out a small handful and tip them back, forcing myself to swallow when they stick to my throat. Slamming the bottle back on the counter I grip the sides of the sink like a lifeline and wait for the effects to kick in. It doesn't take long.

A fuzzy kind of warmth washes over me and the screaming of my ribs is reduced to a mere moan. When a deep breath only results in a minor twinge I take a few experimental steps and note with disgusted satisfaction that my legs are co-operating with me. Steeling myself I trek slowly back into the living room, where the body of both redheads lay. With utmost care I snake my biceps under Kaya's arm and pull, grunting with effort as each step takes us further away from his battered corpse. Once we've reached a sufficient distance I somehow manage to push her onto the sofa, arranging her the best I can so that she won't be too uncomfortable. I strip her of her bloody clothes and throw them outside, covering her with a thick blanket against the chill. With a towel and water I wipe away most of the crimson from her face and hands, until it looks like nothing more than a gash or scrape occured. Yeah, right.

---

I've stalled long enough. Much to my shame I've taken another handful of pills with I'm starting to think was a stupid idea; my head is clouding and my eyes becoming heavy. But I can't leave her with this to clean up. So with much trepidation I trod over to his demolished body and grab at his shirt, curling my fingers deep into the fabric. With a stifled cry of pain I pull, sinking my heels, not looking at the trail of blood, and certainly not thinking about how this will be the easy part compared to what I have to do.

It takes half an hour for me to finally drag him outside, a large smearing train of scarlet in his wake. I'll clean that up after. Leaving him in a heap I wipe at the beads of sweat that roll down my temples, noting that despite the cold air and freezing drops of rain my whole body's on fire. What were those pills, anyway?

You shouldn't have taken them. You're going to relapse.

I couldn't well leave his body there. That would end our relationship for good.

It was over the moment you started using your teeth instead of your fists.

Then think of this as a last act of kindness before she calls me a monster and boots me far away from her life. I'll probably go back to drugs anyway after that; I mean, why suffer through it?

For once, the monster has no answer.

I don't realize until now that my body had already sought my tool of requirement until I feel the slick wood in my hands. The shovel is heavy and each lift sends tongues of agony rippling through my side, but I simply take one glance at the sleeping redhead and let the metal bite into the dirt. Rain coats me from head to toe, a disgusting mix of wet earth and blood that clings to my skin like a grimy blanket. About a foot in I have to stop and swallow more little white saviors and take a small break, the searing momentarily becoming too much. Still, I work constantly while the moon shines, noting that if I don't think I can create a kind of rhythm that blocks out the pain and the guilt and the heartache. Down, dig, kick, tip. Down, dig, kick, tip. Down, dig, kick tip.

The very first tendrils of dawn are creeping across the horizon before there's finally a hole I deem big enough. About five feet deep and three feet wide, it's not too shallow but any deeper will take too long and be too hard to unearth. So with a whistling sigh I limp over to the now cold corpse and grasp his leg, whimpering with each heave of the body. I've taken all the pills I can without passing out; they're meant to dull the pain, not take it away completely. Finally he gets to the edge of the hole and I unceremoniously roll him in, his face staring blankly up at the sky. Exhausted, I slump on the ground and close my eyes with the shovel still in hand, wishing nothing more than to crawl into the hole with him and just sleep forever. But I couldn't, couldn't leave Kaya like that. Even if she doesn't want me anymore.

Trembling from fatigue and a slight overdosage, I shakily raise the shovel and drive it into the huge pile of dirt. With grim satisfaction I raise the first load over the grave, and watch as the earth falls onto his face and obscures his unseeing eyes from view.

---

Faint morning has broken by the time I cast the shovel aside, limping heavily up the back-steps. My (ex)lover still slumbers on, the past events must have caught up with her. Dropping to my knees I scrub at the trail on the floor, not even bothering to tackle the large stain in the living room. Still, the telltale train is wiped off, but twice I had to go outside and throw up, stomach heaving as all the disgusting blood and flesh was purged. Whether it's from exhaustion, pure disgust or the drugs I'm not sure, but it's the first time that's happened. Maybe it's a good sign.

Stumbling over to the couch that houses the limp redhead, I slide down the wall opposte to her. My legs splay out in front of me and I'm dripping mud onto the carpet, but it doesn't bother me as my head slowly droops forward, muscles losing whatever control they had. I'm covered head to toe in a film of grime, mud and rain mixed with ingredients much more sinister. Fingers still clamped around the now two-thirds full bottle of pills, my eyes shut.

I don't dream that day.

The very first tendrils of wakefulness creep upon me much like the monster does in my moment of weakness. It starts at my fingers where I can now feel vague shapes of things that didn't exist a moment ago, travelling up my nerves to where my brain tries to make sense of them. Then light leaks into the blessed darkness that was once surrounding me, intruding upon my haven and shoving me rudely towards the waking world. But I don't want to go back, it holds all the shame and the guilt and the hurt that I've commited. Still I hurtle ever closer towards full consciousness, regaining feeling in my limbs and chest. But as rational thought is finally achieved, the only thing I can think of is:

Why does my head hurt so much?

Time to get up, little sheep. You have to face the music. I frown, head trying to turn away from the sound. A tongue of flame shoots down my stiff neck and I moan low in my throat, the sound reverbrating weakly in reality of wherever my body may lay. Stop speaking riddles. It's too early for that. Infuriatingly enough, it doesn't reply. The mystery around its words gives me that final kick needed, and now I find the room spinning helplessly though my eyes are still firmly shut.

There is a disgusting blanket of grime on me, coating my body from head to toe. If I even try to curl my fingers I feel it crackling underneath my nails and on my knuckles. Though, my right hand won't move. Am I holding something? My thumb strokes at the strange material. Plastic, perhaps? Maybe, it's slick enough. The other side is slightly larger, and the rim is scratchy and rough. A lid! But for what?

Popping off the lid with my thumb, a forefinger dips in to touch the contents. Little objects are packed in tight, hard with a powdery coating. Like pills, almost...

The memories are almost strong enough to make me faint. Everything comes rushing back with astounding clarity, from the strangulation to the neighbour's house where I lay on a table as a little child played with my eye. The blind rage as I pummels and eventually devoured the despicable man and cleaning up his remains. Digging the hole until I practically collapsed from exhaustion, throwing up the foul contents of my stomach repeatedly. At the thought the appendage starts to ache, as if the emptyness is not only a physical pain.

"Hello?" That was real, right? I've heard that voice before. Who is it?

That's the voice of your ex-lover.

I don't have an ex-lover. I have a current lover, but...

Oh.

With that sobering thought in mind I force my eyes to open, flinching back from the sharp quality of the room. Bright lights and neon colors flash in front as it takes a moment for me to adjust, dragging my gaze up to her. Almost at once I notice she's pretty much naked, prompting another brief memory flash of stripping her down and throwing a sheet over her. Wait, why?

Still, something isn't right. Her face isn't concerned or disgusted or anything that it should be, merely curious. But despite the relatively light tone of voice her body speaks something different, coiled like an animal and poised to leap at the slightest hint of hostility. Her eyes are slightly clouded and her stance unsteady, which makes no sense. She didn't take any drugs, did she? Wait, no. She saw me, backed up, said something. Staggered, tripped and... fell.

"Who are you?"

Fuck.

More than anything I wan't to get up and shake her by the shoulders, scream that you know me, I was your first friend, first girlfriend, first time but I lack the energy that would need, so I instead grit my teeth and haul myself up to a slightly more upright position. It prompts a pathetic whimper from a throat that feels like sandpaper but I still lick my lips and try to formulate words. They come out rough and broken, but hopefully it'll get the point across.

"I'm..." I'm tempted to say Flight, however perhaps a more familiar name would aid her. "Tammy. I'm Tammy." Swallow. Wince. Afterthought. "Your girlfriend." I hope.

It seems to drain away whatever reserve of energy I harbour, because I slump back down to watch her through half-lidded eyes and pray that something, anything, jogs her memory. I'm too battered to deal with this.