.:: Alone Time ::.

[Momento]

I wish Lizzy was here.

I understand that she is there, of course, but that isn’t here with me. To talk to me. To make me feel better. I miss her little quirks and the way she would roll her eyes at me. Playful antics between sisters. I miss Nirvana too. I know the girl is just someone I happened to **** up in my overzealous actions, but I care for her a little bit, you know? I’ll get to see her soon enough though, whenever I get out of here. This place is horrific. It is death and decay and the more that Hans says that he likes it here starts to worry me.

Still..

I love him more than anything, no matter how stupid that may be, it is what I feel. I believe there is a part of me that knows he is, well, deranged I suppose, but I can’t seem to care. It is the things he does with me and the way his eyes light up just for me. I think he is faithful to me, but I don’t know. I know he leaves our home while I am here and I have no idea where he is going or what he is doing. It is driving me insane. I wish that stupid camera would just break or get stolen. At least then it wouldn’t torment me like it does.

I always thought my fear of death was the worst fear that I had, one that could be over compassing and horrific, but this is worse. This I lose sleep over when I am alive and dead. This I can’t stand the thought of. This I can’t help but cry over. This I know isn’t true but it doesn’t matter because it has taken over my entire existence.

I’m going to go home and he’s going to be with some ***** in our bed. And I will kill him with my bare hands. Watch his blood pour from his veins and play in it like fountain water. He doesn’t know these thoughts, or I don’t think he does, but sometimes I think he sees it in my eyes.

Maybe I will invest in contacts.

[Momento]

The more time I spend in here the darker my thoughts seem to get. I try not to smile, but I can’t help it, there is just something about it that seems to please me. The things in my mind that I have determined I would do to the man that I love have become a bit disconcerting, but who’s going to stop me? Even when I am back and look upon him I’m sure he will know. That tell-tale look of murder written in the eyes is something to hide. All those psychos in movies have it. Killers from around the world have it. People who sit there and meditate on just how exactly they would do it. The problem for me is the story always seems to change, the things I want to do always seem to change, but there are always specifics.

In the end, I always drink his blood. Lick it off my fingers, drain him dry; there were a few times I thought of giving him all of me only to kill him during or just after. Watching the life fade from him. It all brings me such joy. Such complete pleasure to dream of destroying him just to feed my own passions, to sate whatever demon seems to be inside of me. The first of these would always start with me catching him cheating on me. Catching him with some other girl who I would impale with his scalpel over and over, leaving little red lines all over her body as I watch her bleed from every pore, every orifice, bleeding out all over my bed and after I would destroy Hans completely in varying ways and drink of him as I lay in blood soaked sheets in my bliss.

Now though, well, my dreams, fantasies I suppose one would call them, need nothing of the sort. One in particular I enjoyed. Coming home to find him resting in bed, simply looking as if he is waiting for me to return and yet it isn’t enough. Doesn’t seem to be enough. In the most loving of ways I stroke his cheek, brush my fingers through his hair, place a kiss to him, and then tell him something to make him stay still for me. Maybe it is a ritual or a curse or something I don’t understand but he does not move. Sometimes I think it is purely because he trusts me, which makes me grin and giggle at the thought. I want to rip him open with his own weapon, I want to drink every last bit of him and take him into me, I want to feel his power coursing through my veins.

I am sick, I am twisted, I am broken
And I don’t want anyone to fix it.

[Momento]

It is almost morning. I can smell the dew in the nights air coming down to rest upon the grass, the shift in winds that has taken in my absence. Fall is near, the leaves will turn soon. I’m not sure why these thoughts pass through my mind as I walk the hall to our bedroom, but they keep me preoccupied until I see him resting there in our room. In my bed. A thought of love and adoration passes over me and I feel a pull upon heart strings as I enter and lay my cold, not yet even completely regenerated fingers on his skin. They look so broken in comparison to his own, pieces of flesh falling off the bone and fragments of muscle still showing through. I am just risen into this world from that of shadows, not even an hour has passed, and yet I am here with him. I think I smile, but I’m not sure he even notices I’m here. I can think of nothing else now though as I slip my fingers along his arm, brush over the curve of his hip.

How does one not see what I see when I look at him? How does one not feel how I feel? The sliver of light from the hallway illuminates the room enough to see every bit of him though it hangs with glee upon the glint of metal he holds so dear. To this I place my fingers and stroke it lovingly, caressing this blade like it is the most important thing in the world. Nothing stops me. Nothing.

His eyes look at me with something I can’t tell, pity? Love? Happiness? It doesn’t register as I slowly cut him open. The pitch black of dark blood like ebony cracks on pale alabaster skin. Those along his arms are first and my lips kiss along these as my tongue licks up the wounds I have caused, but that isn’t enough. Before I can control myself I have ripped into his throat and shoved this blade through his chest and into his heart, his blood curls against my fingers and I bathe in it, smearing it over my skin and pressing my face over this wound as blood pools out to drink from him, straight from the source. Those words whisper from my tongue. “I love you.” As he fades into shadowy nothing to leave me laying upon our bed covered in him, his power coursing through me, his blood making me stronger.

It is the happiest I have ever felt.

And then I wake up.

[Momento]

I am almost entirely healed from the faint wound of death, which means soon I will see you.

I hope that you are ready for me, that you are ready to deal with me, because things are going to change between us more then I think either of us will like. I still don’t know if I will tell you my thoughts, dreams, and fantasies, but I may show you a few. I am not sure I could actually help myself now. They are so deeply imbedded into me, every part of me.

Soon, my love, my precious, so very soon we will be together.
Forever.