♦ Repent ♦

[Rion]

Rion's journal is a black book with blue skulls on the cover. It will be (for the most part, depending on approval for RP purposes) locked in her desk drawer or in her messanger bag. There will be more than just words, it'll probably be filled with sketches as well.

All information read is to be OOC knowledge only, unless I have given consent otherwise.

[Rion]

February 1, 2015

I personally find the thought of holding a journal ludicrous.

Why should I leave my personal thoughts where others can find them? It’s not their business, especially if I haven’t chosen to reveal them.

However, Teacher demands it of me. She says it’ll help my ‘aggression’ issues. I didn’t realize being honest was considered aggressive. Maybe that’s why so many people hide behind lies and catty, childish remarks. The human race (yes, I’m technically a ‘vampire’ but I’m still human) has gone to hell.

I had a body brought to me today. Five years old, just a little girl. She’d been beaten and raped by her brother. The mother swore it had only happened once, like that would matter. When I examined her I found years of abuse. This little girl had never had a moment of peace from the day she’d been born. I nearly lost my head. If it wasn’t for calling Micah, I would have.

That man has been my rock from the moment he killed me. He’s abrasive, temperamental, and harsh – but he’s honest. I’ve noticed that people can’t handle him, believing him to be some kind of monster, but they don’t see him for who he really is. Or maybe they do, but they are too weak to handle it. He’s got walls thousands of miles high, but he’s never let me down. When I need him, he’s there, but others take advantage of that. I’ve seen how cold he can be, how quick he is to shut someone down.

And every single person has been someone that deserved it.

I honestly don’t know what else to say here. Am I supposed to ***** about my day? My relationship? I’ve sat here for at least fifteen minutes, staring at this half-filled page and wondering where to go. It’s supposed to be helpful…

But I don’t feel the least bit ‘helped.’

- R.G.H

[Rion]

May 15, 2015

I had forgotten that I was supposed to be writing in you.

I tucked you away under my mattress and completely disregarded your existence until Salem decided it was time for me to put my thoughts into order. It must be desperate times when that cat will lift his grotesquely fat *** off the chair. He usually just sits there and stares at me with a glare that would wither a weaker person.

When he retrieved you from your hiding place, I thought about tossing you. You have done nothing for me so far, and I still cannot fathom why anyone would think writing in a journal like some love-sick teenager will benefit the intellectual, but I couldn't bring myself to. I'm not sure if it was that one entry that spoke volumes of my psyche, or if it's simply because I need someone to vent my frustrations to. All I know is I have grown to act as if you are actually something of importance that deserves my time and commitment.

We'll see how this lasts.

Either way, I haven't written in you in a while, so clearly you weren't as therapeutic as you were supposed to be - or I lacked the attention span to keep up with you. You haven't missed much, really.

Micah, despite my independence, has helped me a lot. I'm reluctant to admit that I might have feelings for him. No, not those thigh quivering, heart fluttering, childish 'take me now' feelings. The kind of feelings where I dare anyone to **** with him while I'm around. The kind of feelings I haven't felt since my mother passed, like there is someone out there that I can connect with on a deeper level that isn't sex and romance. It's good to know there's someone out there that doesn't want to **** me just to go home and say they banged the weird goth chick.

Though, as my mother always said 'with the good, comes the bad.' The bad in this case, being his wife. I get her issues, I do. I have to deal with Osiris and his desire to rip the throat out of anyone who comes within in a fifty foot radius of me, but even he has the decency to back the **** off when it comes to our sire. I sometimes believe that it has nothing to do with jealousy, but insecurity. I watch how she clings to him like a wet blanket, and snarls like a rabid dog when anyone of the female persuasion moves towards him, like she fears he's going to abandon her.

She's supposed to be regarded as some strong leader, but anytime I see her, all I see is a adolescent little girl afraid that her prom date is shoving it to the next hot piece of ***. However, I've decided she's not worth my time or my effort in befriending her. She continues to make remarks whenever I say something in regards to Micah, and I overlook them. If she makes a catty remark to me in public, I will tune her out.

The high road is a place I'm not familiar with, but in order to keep my relationship strong with my sire, I will learn the navigate it. If it becomes too much, I'll just write it all down in here.

Enough of that.

There was something today, a fracture. I don't recall what set me out to find it, but when I did, I was nearly brought to my knees. The power that resided inside beckoned me closer, and I felt as if I could take on the world, if only I were to touch it. Of course, Micah being the fat pain in the *** that he is, has filled my head with more than just giving in to my lust and greed for knowledge.

Instead, he was that nagging little angel that twittered about in my ear until I simply opted to seal the thing. I felt bereft without the darkness inside, but I think he might have saved me from myself. Not that I will ever allow him to know. He might never allow me to live it down.

I think I've written all I care to for the time being. I'll try not to forget about you this time, but I can't make promises.

-R.G.H.

[Rion]

May 17, 2015

No one can say I didn't try.

There is no getting through to Velveteen, even though I've tried. She can sit there and be a condescending little ******* ***** all she wants, but I know she's wrong and I think - hope - somewhere inside, she does too.

I don't think she realizes this isn't on me anymore. I reached out to her, I ******* tried. I can't stand her, but for his sake I tried. I honestly don't understand how she's a leader of anything. Her attitude leaves a lot to be desired, and frankly, she's hideous. I mean, by looks, she's gorgeous but that means nothing when inside she's as black and cold as the darkest void. Literally, reading her latest e-mail made me feel sorry for her.

She thinks I'm a cheap, imitation knock-off.

It was enough to make me laugh. I laughed for a good five minutes before Rebecca asked if I was on drugs. I am nothing like her, and I am so ******* glad for that. She's abrasive and a *****, yeah, so am I - but I know how to feel, I know how to care, and I can see when this **** is putting Micah through the ringer, which is exactly why I stepped up and was the adult, the bigger person to try and offer resolutions.

Clearly, I should get her a dictionary.

'You haven't offered a resolution.'

res·o·lu·tion
ˌrezəˈlo͞oSH(ə)n/
noun
1.
a firm decision to do or not to do something.
2.
the action of solving a problem, dispute, or contentious matter.


In the e-mail, I clearly stated both of those things. I repeated myself countless times, and I've gone back and re-read the e-mail again to make sure. She's throwing tantrums because I touched him. I'd get it, if I actually shook my *** in his face or bit him, but I touched his goddamned arm and I gently poked at one of the wounds he had. I'm a ******* doctor for crying out loud, it's what I do. The one thing that Every pointed out was I pinched his hip. Even if I did do that, that's not a 'come **** me' advance. It's pinching a goddamned hip.

But, that was my resolution. I would stop, I would stop touching him because it made her ******* rave like a psychotic school girl, but she wasn't pleased. She instead ripped apart my entire e-mail with insults that a toddler could pull out of his ***, and got even more upset because I wouldn't change my personality to appease her. I swear, I think she might be a little mentally handicapped, or just refuses to accept that someone is doing something she should have done a lot time ago.

I care about Micah, and I ******* want to slit her throat for implying otherwise. I'm the one that tried, and she's the one that stomped all over it. I know now she won't be satisfied until I'm gone.

******* sucks for her, because I'm stuck by his side for eternity. I won't leave him and I won't leave Andras. I know for a fact he won't kick me out or tell me to leave, either. I'll just go back to my own personal resolution and ignore her completely. She doesn't exist to me anymore.

This is all on her from this point out.

**** you very much indeed.

- R.G.H.

[Rion]

May 21, 2015

She called a mediation.

By she, I mean Velveteen. At first, I wanted to avoid it. I think I made that clear from the moment I walked in the door, but I stuck it out. I didn't know what to expect when I received the text message from Micah. Was I going to leave Andras? Would she try to attack me again? I was still reeling from the disease she put on me a few nights before. God, that **** sucked. I've been at low points in my life, but I had never felt something like that before. It took all of the strength I had left to keep Osiris in check, which didn't help matters.

I digress.

When I got there, I couldn't even look at her. If I had needed to breathe, I was sure I would have suffocated. My social skills - or lack thereof - refuse to allow me to handle normal, everyday occurrences. The entire hotel was secluded to the three of us, and I still felt as if I was crowded. I had to count to one hundred four times before I could even find my voice to speak. It didn't help that she knocked me clear off my ***, either.

Instead of her usual '**** you, ****', I was met with... kindness. It stunned me, and at the same time, comforted me. I was able to look her in the eye when I spoke, and we were able to come to a conclusion. Every said I should write down everything that happened, word from word, but I might spare you the details. To sum up the entire meeting, we both have boundary issues that we need to work on together. She doesn't know me, I don't know her. What she sees as disrespectful, is me being me. I don't mean **** by it, unless it's deserved. I just have issues, we all do. I'll work on it, though, I promised her - and him - that much.

I'm not seeing us braiding each others hair and trading gossip in the future, but... something.
We'll see.

[Rion]

July 10, 2015

I used to say that I am only human.

Is that true still? Even though the life has faded from my eyes and my heart has ceased to beat, does that make me any less human than when I was alive? I am a creature of the night, the thing that lurks in the shadows. I cannot go into the light, I have no need for food, and I live off of the vitae of living things.

Does that mean that I am not allowed to blame my humanity for my mistakes?

It has been a troubling thought recently, one that I have yet to push aside. It started the night that I had found her. She was sitting alone in a booth, her head down as she scribbled furiously on a piece of scrap paper. She hadn’t known that I was watching her, that there was someone studying her every movement. I hadn’t missed a beat – from the way she bit her lip, to the say she shifted her leg when she grew agitated. She was to be the perfect specimen. She had a willingness about her, an air of confidence that I sorely lacked. It wasn’t those things that made me want her, however.

It was the fact that she had been alone.

For hours, no one called her or approached her table. No one even looked her way. When she had finally stood to leave, I knew that it was time to make my move. She didn’t gather a coat, she didn’t pull out her cell to call home or a cab. She was the perfect target.

I should have known it would be too easy.

I could blame it on the long hours I worked that day. I could blame it on the tension I felt every time I walked into the hotel I shared with my lineage. I could even blame it on Velveteen, but it all boiled down to one simple thing. On horrible transgression that I will never be able to take back.

I made a mistake.

When I followed her into the alley, I didn’t realize that she had begun to slow. I was too focused on the moonlight as it danced over her raven locks, bathing her in a warm glow that made her look eerie and… perfect. The hunger I felt only increased when she tossed those curls over her shoulder, causing her scent to hit me with enough force to bring me to my knees. It took away the last of my control, and I found her pinned against the wall, her chest pressed to the brick as I held her hair in my fist.
She didn’t make a sound.

When I had taken my fill, the sweet delectable taste of her blood lingering on my lips, I had been satisfied. My experiment had paid off. I had spent days finding the perfect victim. It was going to be my one and only time feeding on a human, after all. I had been told that their taste was addicting, that I was not a true vampire until I had human blood in my system. I wanted to know if it made me stronger, faster – of if it was all just part of the hype.

I should have realized that nothing ever worked out that way.

I had forgotten about her. I had thrown myself back into my work, and I hadn’t felt any different. I wasn’t able to control my urges for murder when Rodriguez would breathe down my neck, nor was I able to walk in the sun like some myths claimed. I suppose I didn’t care too much about that. I was never one for the daytime – it was too bright, too loud, with too many people awake and bustling around. I had accepted that my studies had ended, and then I saw her again.

At first, I planned to walk past her. There was no way she could know who I was, even as she stared at me as if her eyes could pierce my soul. I am an intelligent person. That is one of the two things that I’ve always had going for me – my intelligence, and my wit. I knew before she even began to walk towards me that she knew who I was – what I was.

All I could remember thinking was that Micah was going to kill me.

That has been a few weeks now. A few long, agonizing weeks as I tried to piece together where I went wrong. No one can understand how I managed to turn her. I did everything I was supposed to do, and I had left her with that dazed, lost look in her eyes.

So how the **** did she end up a vampire and I end up her murderer?

I made a mistake.
A grave, horrific, perfect, mistake.

After all, I am only…
Me.

- R. G. H

[Rion]

Though her handwriting is usually precise and neat, the words she wrote now were barely discernable. Her hand trembled as she put the pen to the paper, each word written hastily as the fear and pain ran rampant through her mind.

July 28, 2015

I saw Abraham today.

At first, I wasn’t certain. After all, what would he be doing so far away from home and how the **** would he have found me? Then, he turned. He turned, and if my heart still beat, it would have jumped into overdrive. He has always been attractive. He has always had that smile that made my knees weak. The truth, however, was hidden behind those sparkling eyes that caused my breath to catch in my throat. The monster inside of him lurked beneath that easy-going, charming façade…

… and I realized how much I hated him.

The rage rushed through me like a blazing inferno, burning everything I have learned to control to ash. It had taken every ounce of strength that Micah had imposed on me to not pull my gun free. It would have been such an easy shot. It was so easy to set him in the target of my rifle’s scope and pull the trigger, despite the crowded streets – but I didn’t. I allowed him the freedom to walk away, and I’m not sure what would have been worse. His quick demise, or giving him the time to do whatever damage he has set out to do to my life. His appearance within the city limits will not go over well with my family.

No, once Osiris catches wind, there will be nothing I can do to stop him.
Especially if he calls in the cavalry.

I haven’t a clue what I’m supposed to do. Our marriage is still as legal as the day I said my vows and listed to the lies that fell from his tongue like turpentine. His promise to love, respect and value me turned to dust the moment we stepped foot into our honeymoon suite. He had received what he wanted – my hand in marriage and all of the perks that went along with it. He no longer had to keep his charade going. The door had been closed, and the monster that lurked beneath was unleashed.

If Osiris or Micah knew what I endured at his hand, there would be nowhere that Abraham could hide.

I’m not sure how to proceed. I’m at a loss for words, my mind that’s usually so quick with the next step has shut down. He has someone managed to take everything I have worked for myself since walking away from him and rip it to shreds. His words have once again started to haunt me and I’m suffering phantom pains of his hands against my flesh. I need to find out what he is doing here and what his plan is. I may not have all of the facts at this moment, but I do know one thing…


… He has to die.

- R. G. H

[Rion]

July 28, 2015

I thought writing it all down would have made it easier.
Perhaps even disappear, but I was wrong.

All I do now is sit here and re-read my previous words as if my mind cannot wrap around the bitter truth. He has returned. He has found me – and there is nothing I can do to prevent the chain of events bound to happen from this knowledge. I tried to convince myself that I could save him, but then the strong part of me, the part that has been born from the ash of my previous existence, puts up a fight that I don’t believe I will be able to win. Why would I wish to save him? Why, when my father has already perished at my hands? I can hear his voice in the back of my mind, torturing me, reminding me of the murderer that I have become. What else can I do?

I cannot believe that I have been put in this situation.
I cannot believe I have fallen this far.

Osiris came home a few minutes ago, and the second he saw the state I was in, he tried to help me. I couldn’t let him near me. His touch caused my stomach to twist, and when I jerked away from him… I saw it. I saw the pain in his eyes, something that I have never seen before. Neither of us handle our emotions well, and I had to watch him walk out the door as my jaw seemed to be cemented shut. He's gone now. Perhaps forever. It's possible, right? It's possible that I'm just going to lose everything I've worked so hard for. If I lost him, if he's gone - he'll leave without ever knowing how much I actually cared for him. I should have told him. I should have said something. I should have done so much, but perhaps if he's gone, it'll be better this way. He thinks me an angel, someone caring and capable of not monumentally ******* up every step of the way. He sees the good in me when no one else does, even though I have tried to warn him so many times I'm not that girl.

Maybe now he'll see the truth.
Even though it'll kill me.

Already, I want to apologize, to reach out for him, to explain to him what’s going on – but the words won’t come. Instead, I sit here, curled on the couch and try to fight the battle I know I’m losing.

I’m slipping again.
I know these words won’t make any sense to anyone but me.

The darkness is coming in.
My world is being ripped apart.

I have to fight it.
I have to.

Goddamnit, Abraham.
You should have just left me alone.

- R. G. H.

[Rion]

October 31, 2015

I remarried.

Even as I write those two words, I cannot believe them. I cannot believe that I fell into the same song and dance that I swore myself off of. I cannot believe that I allowed myself to risk being hurt again.

Yet, I also cannot believe I did not find Osiris sooner.

I do not do romance, nor do I do sweet talk. I do not understand the need for love, the need to be with another person. I do not condone that desperation, that feeling that if you were to be without another, you would be unable to be complete. However, I believe in Osiris. I believe that he is the better fit for my needs than any other man I have been with. He understands me, he understands my madness. When I wake up in the middle of the night screaming, tears streaming down my face, he simply holds me. He does not speak, he does not coddle me. He waits until the terrors fade and I fall back asleep.

He is a liar, a criminal and a ********.
But, he is mine.

Abraham never had a kind word to say to me. When he wasn’t insulting my style or my attitude, he was insulting my intelligence and my weight. If he couldn’t break me down with words, he took lessons from my father and brought me to my knees with blows. I still remember the look in Osiris’s eyes when he heard the truth of my marriage with Abraham. I still remember the rage that burned those depths and sent electricity through my veins. This is a man that would kill for me and die for me. I’ve seen it, I’ve witnessed the monster inside of him, the curses he battles each second – and how ******* bad it really gets when I’m involved. He won’t let a single ****** near enough to hurt me.

It is not a healthy form of love, but what form of love is? What love is healthy and truly happy?

I admit, I did try to get out of this. I tried to run from him, to tell him that it was stupid. We didn’t need to be eternally bound or what the **** ever to know we belonged together. We didn’t need the dresses or the ceremony and we definitely didn’t need the rings. I haven’t even put it on, and I can already feel the weight of it on my finger. It feels like an anchor, and I told him as much. I told him I couldn’t do this again – that I ******* refused. I couldn’t – and wouldn’t – go through this again.
His words?

“Shut the **** up, duckie. Anchors are what see you safely through the storm, so get the **** over it and let us weather this this together.”

And that is why I chose this man.

He doesn’t smooth talk and he doesn’t hold back. He gets me where I need to be, and he doesn’t let me fall. If we’re going into this clichéd storm, I cannot imagine anyone else by my side.

****, he’s going to be my ruination.

- R. G. H

[Rion]

[quote="Rion"]

November 4, 2015

My thoughts are so erratic, I'm not sure this post will make any sense, but I need to get it out. I need to say something before I ruin everything.

I saw Abraham again.

However, I know that logically, that isn’t possible. It isn’t possible that he was outside of our hotel, nor is it possible that he said my name. Osiris walked right past him, and yet, he stared at me. He watched as my husband pinned me to the wall and kissed me, he laughed as he slid his hands beneath my skirt. The laughter sent ice through my veins, and I couldn’t begin to explain it. Not wanting to ruin our first night together, I kept it to myself. I told him I was uncomfortable with the publicity of his actions and we left it at that. I know that he didn’t believe me, I could see it in his eyes as he watched me all the way to the elevator.

How could I tell him that my ex-husband is haunting me? The very man that he and Micah worked to rid me of? It made it seem as if all their efforts had been moot. They only want to protect me, but I don’t think they can. Nothing can save me, can it? I haven’t seen him since, but I still feel that chill on the back of my neck, as if he still watched. What is he waiting for? He can’t hurt me anymore. Hell, I think at this point, I’m in the position of power. I think I read somewhere that I could rip him from this world and he wouldn’t be able to return. It was supposed to be what they had done that night, but maybe this is the final step. They did most of the work, and now it’s my turn to rid myself of the figurative – and literal – ghosts of my past.

The real question is…
Will I be able to?

The thought of him remaining in this realm frightens – and entices – me. He cannot hurt me as he is now, at least physically, but I can hurt him. I suspect that he can still feel, he can still think. He can still process what is happening when I take my husband to bed. He still hears when I tell him I love him and he still sees in the rare times that Osiris manages to make me laugh. He will be able to witness everything that he could never do for me, those things that he constantly blamed me for. Though I am still unwilling to believe that I am fixed, I know now that I was not the only one at fault. Osiris has managed to wake me up in ways that Abraham never could. The only thing I felt with my ex-husband was the sting of his words and the abuse of his fists. I want him to see that I am better without him.

Of course, the look on his face when I send him straight to hell is promising, too.
I will have to weigh my options for a few nights.

For now, I guess I need to return to Osiris before he levels the hotel. We promised Micah that we would behave while we were away, and I highly doubt that includes having my darling husband hunted for numerous homicides. Sometimes I’m not sure who’s more fucked up between the two of us.

- R. G. H.