{kill me? or kill me not?} [Kiah]

As soon as had stepped out of the house this evening I knew that tonight was going to be a good one. I could feel it in my bones, I could feel it in the way the gentle breeze danced over my pale skin. No one needed to hold up a sign telling me that I was going to get lucky, no one needed to whisper into my ear that tonights prize was going to be a prize worth ten thousand of the prizes I already had tucked away safety in the compartments of my chest of draws. A smile dances on the edge of my lips I round a corner that would lead me to the place where I knew my prize awaited me.

How many times had I walked down this exact street with exact thought flying through my mind? To many for me to count. So why did I always think the same thing when I was out, uh, hunting- dare I say? Because I knew that if I thought that I was going to get what I desired I was going to get it. I knew that if I told myself that if was going to be worth double anything I have in my possession- I knew it was going to come true. It was revere psychology, or something like that. My sister had droned on about it once, saying to me that if I told myself that I hated torturing and killing people, then I would actually hate doing it. Usually if a family member talked to me in that way, I would slap them over the back of the head and snarl some sort of threat at them… But this was Summer- one of the few family members that I could actually tolerate- so instead, I just smiled at her (a cold smile, but one never-the-less) and told her that I couldn't do that. Because truth be told was that I loved it. I loved to hear their screams as they begged me to stop, I loved the way they struggled against the restraints as I taunted them with the blood stained clamp and told them numerous stokes about women- and the occasional man- who had been in her exact same position.

Once you saw that fear in their eyes, that pain that went beyond just physical pain, you couldn't stop. It was power, and so little people know that feeling of power until they have tried it, until they have that person wrapped around their finger, a toy in their toy box. Once you have felt that power, that feeling when you know that the life of a person was in your hands, you could never go back. You feed on that power until it consumes you. After that, she never asked me again. I knew that she didn't understand, she was one of the few Blackmore’s that tended to avoid killing, she hated it, she hated her dysfunctional family, but she stayed all the same. Maybe it was fear? Fear that if she left one us would go and hunt her down. Or maybe it was fear that if she left she would not survive on the streets on her own. Or maybe she still del safe enough here and it was just uncomfortable for her to be around her flesh eating siblings.

A scowl replaces my smile as I think about the cannibals that lived under my roof. As I think about the sense of joy these sick kids get from ripping the flesh of other human beings and consuming it. It was disgusting. Killing and torturing I could handle, but cannibalism? Cannibalism was something that even disgusted me to lengths that I could barely contain. It was sicken to wake up in the morning to find a fresh stomach in the fridge, or a dying heart. Each time I see it, it takes all I have not to grab the termites by the ears and kick them to the streets, after all if was my mother leaving wish for me to keep them safe, keep our secret hidden. There were very few people out in District two who knew what was really hiding beneath our cool, collected composure.

Sighing I try to push the thoughts of my family to the back of my mind, into a file that says “do not open — ever again.” But then I hear a gentle, inquisitive voice hiding beyond the shadows. I freeze, my eyes scanning the darkness around me. "Mr. Blackmore? Beautiful night, isn't it?” Instantly my eyes catch the slim figure of the girl I know to be Eirwen Birch. She was dressed all in black a hood pulled up so that most of her face swam in the shadows. Instantly I feel as though someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over my head. The Birches were one of the few people who knew about us, making me feel slightly uncomfortable in her presence. But despite my lack of comfort I kept my face smooth, there was no way in hell that I was going to let her know how I felt. I was Aragorn Blackmore, and small pretty girls, like her, weren't going to intimidate me.

“Ahh Miss. Birch,” My voice is almost like a purr as I take a few steps closer to her, all intentions to remove myself from clear view if any pass buyer may have the urge to pass by. “It is Miss, right?” My voice is mocking, but I knew that this girl was not innocent- I mean everything about her seemed to scream trouble. “the night is one of beauty,” I add, addressing her earlier question. I allow my eyes to scan the sky, stars winked down upon us and I smile, turning my attention back to the Birch my mind suddenly flourishing with a marvellous idea. What was the saying? when you could get rid of two problems at once, two birds, one stone? A Birch was a problem, not only to me but to the rest of my family. And her stopping me, from what I presume, to be a successful night, was also another problem. But that was ok, I could fix this… maybe I just had to look somewhere else for my prize tonight… Maybe at my prize was standing in front of me right now. I smile and tilt my head to the side slightly. “Well aren't you looking stunning tonight,” my voice is no longer tainted with an edge, but flourishing with a new found goal.