the beginning is the end (Myk)

[Bella Rose (DELETED 7820)]

Introduction

Bella had spent her entire life stuck in one place, not receding, but not advancing either.

Her mother, whom she had been told was just some poverty-stricken whore, had died after giving birth.

So she was sent to live at a home for girls, a large foster home of sorts (though the outdated name of the place still read Orphanage).

The thought which haunted her the most, was the fact that she had wasted almost 18 precious years of her life doing absolutely nothing.

She went to her lessons. She did chores. She wrote in her journal. She ate. She slept.

She was a solitary child, she didn't have any interest in interacting socially, and so, she rarely did. She always had that about her. That look of otherness, of eyes that see things much too far, and of thoughts that wander off the edge of the world. She was an old soul, and had no desire to participate in the meaningless chatter that made it's way through the orphanage walls. She only spoke when she felt it was imperative for her own wellbeing to voice her thoughts. She blended into the shadows, the way she liked it. But as she matured, she gained more experience in manipulation and using her charm to fulfill her own desires. For example, she seduced one of her fellow wards (another girl of the same age) into sleeping with her at around 16, mostly just as an experiment to see what she was capable of. Therefore, she’d evolved her own social skills as she got older.

So this had been her routine. And she felt nothing.

She felt nothing.

She longed for any feeling whatsoever. Excitement; to feel her stomach drop and her heart rate accelerate. Pain, even. Deep, excruciating pain. Heart-wrenching sadness. Anything. She would take anything, do anything, to feel something other than the nothingness that had consumed her.

The last time she had felt anything of significance (other than when she first engaged in sexual conduct) was when she committed murder. Murder. There were no words to describe what the feeling was. But it was feeling, nonetheless. It had felt unreal to her at first. Almost as if she was dreaming. But she wasn't. She had taken a life. All that was left, of the girl who had been tempted to reveal her secrets, was a cold, lifeless body.

(It had been an assumed suicide thereafter).

And she had no regrets. What was this girl to her? Nothing but a threat. And now she would spend the rest of forever in an infinite slumber, away from the vile, filth that was this earth and the scum that inhabited it.

Sleep was peaceful.

She was doing her a favor.


Bella was always cold, as if condemned to life in an eternal winter. It was a mystery, to her, as to why, it just was. No matter how many blankets she slept under. No matter how close to the flames she got. Always cold inside.

She could feel herself decaying, and if she stayed there any longer she would become a shell. A corpse with a beating heart.

It was these reasons that eventually led her to come to the decision to run away.

She had yet to even live. She was alive, but not living. Just barely surviving.

It was her time to live.

Or, so she thought.
______________________________________________________________________________________________

London, England
January 24th, 2016

Bella lied still, listening, waiting.

And finally it came, what she had been waiting for.

Brrrung.

Brrrung.

Brrrung.

Brrrung.

Brrrung.

Brrrung.

Brrrung.

Brrrung.

Brrrung.

Brrrung.

Brrrung.

Brrrung.

Twelve chimes.

Time to go, she thought to herself.

Bella slipped quietly out from under the covers, already in her jacket and boots, which she had gone to bed in to save time now. She crouched down and slid underneath her bed, delicately lifting a loose plank, which appeared to be perfectly normal, to grab the small, leather journal that held her deepest musings and introspections since she was eleven. This very journal had been the motivation for her crime, due to the incredibly dark things she'd written inside of it. The girl had found it and read it, and threatened to reveal her secrets. She'd had no other choice. She placed it into one of her jacket's inside pockets, and then, after glancing around the room to make sure that everyone was asleep, she slid the window up and open. A cool breeze traveled into the room, and she watched as one of the younger ones sat up, rubbing her eyes, which soon after widened at the sight she was seeing. Bella put her finger to her lips, and the girl just stared, bewildered, before eventually lying back down. She climbed out and onto the fire escape, swiftly shutting the window behind her. She quickly began making her way down the stairs until she reached the ground.

She felt a surge of gratification run through her as she started walking hurriedly down the road, finally free from the confines of the old, decaying building that had kept her trapped for 17 years.

It was just past midnight. Few windows were lit across the apartments above, and the light from the lampposts cast shadows down upon the street of old architecture. The wet pavement glimmered under the soft glow of the moon, and the air carried a fresh scent due to the passing rain. Bella felt oddly at ease, despite her situation.

If she was to be caught, she’d be in serious trouble. And besides that, it probably wasn’t safe for her this late at night, with nothing to protect her but her bare hands. But she felt safe. Serene. Untouchable.

There was hardly anyone around.

As she walked along the sidewalk, hood up, trying her best to keep her face concealed, she began hearing sounds of commotion up ahead of her. She quickened her pace, her boots clacking against the brick and creating an echo. If she could get to an area where there were a lot of people, she would have a much better chance at successfully stealing. Everyone’s distracted.

Finally coming into view was the crowd she had been hearing further down the road. Was it some sort of block party, parade, or a festival, she wondered?

It didn’t matter what it was, she realized. There were people. People had money. She would get what she needed, and then make a quick dash for the train station.

As she approached, she pulled once again on her hood to make sure it covered as much of her face as possible, and let her hair hang down in front of her eyes, starting to appear almost as a phantom, a silhouette, a shadow, as she often had in this life. Staying quiet and going unnoticed was one of her specialties. She began maneuvering her way through the crowd, not making a sound. It was more tightly packed closer to the center, but there was also more light there. She made her way closer to the sidewalk, where it was darker, and she had a better chance of not being seen. Within her line of vision was a peculiar looking man standing, so perfectly still, observing whatever event was going on. She couldn’t see his face, as she was looking at him from the back, but he appeared almost like a statue, or in a trance of some sort. She could hardly see him breathing. He didn’t appear to be particularly “wealthy” but he also didn’t look like he was struggling economically. Out of his back pocket, she eyed a wallet. Reaching down, she slipped off her noisy boots and set them up against a wall. The ground was damp and cold, but hopefully she wouldn’t be shoeless for long. There was a thin alleyway to the right of the man, so she slid up against the wall closest to him and crouched down, stealthy and quiet. She took a quick look around to make sure that no one was watching, which of course no one was, before reaching her hand out to grab the wallet.

[Myk]

Psychology is the scientific study of mind and behaviour. As a science, it attempts to investigate the causes of behavior using systematic and objective procedures for observation, measurement and analysis, supported by theoretical interpretations, generalisations, explanations and predictions. With its broad scope, Psychology investigates an enormous range of phenomena: learning and memory, sensation and perception, motivation and emotion, thinking and language, personality and social behavior, intelligence, child development, and mental illness – to name but a few. Psychology is concerned with all aspects of behaviour and with the thoughts, feelings and motivations underlying that behaviour. It is both a thriving academic discipline and a vital professional practice. Applied or practising Psychologists use the knowledge gained from this research in a wide range of settings. Applied Psychologists help people with all sorts of problems, working with them to bring about change for the better. They come in many forms, from Clinical to Counselling, Educational, Forensic and many more. Each type of Psychologist will work in a particular field or use their knowledge for different purposes, but they all work to the same end goal: they want to find out what’s wrong with you and fix you so that you better fit in with the society and culture in which you are living.

The history of man teaches valuable lessons about war, and the pursuit of Psychology is just another means to identify anarchy, deviance, and defiance, and learn how to rectify or even remove these behaviours in the first place. Mankind wants to understand the unknown in order to control it – this is the source of science in all its forms. As much as it has always pained him to realise that he’s considered broken and needs fixing, Myk has never blame his father for trying. The man has worked in the field of Clinical Psychology for thirty years, and when they realised their son was on the other side of the spectrum of normal, it made sense to find a way to fix him. It’s natural to want to rectify a wrong, to discover the part of the machine that doesn’t work in the way it should, and try to make it better or replace it. Man pursues perfection because it is his biological urge; nature instils this urge into every living creature – whether they realise it or not. Each species and each individual works toward the same goal: to secure a legacy for itself, and in order to do that, it needs to be bigger, faster, stronger, smarter, or whatever else it takes, to defeat the opposition. Nature is about conflict and conquering, winning and losing, and nobody ever wants to accept second place.

Myk’s relationship with his parents had always been strained for these reasons. They wanted a trophy to show off to their friends and yet, for all their refinement, the result of their coupling was disastrous. It wasn’t that Myk was devoid of any particularly admirable talents and traits, but that those fascinating personality features were hidden and suppressed by a more remarkable deformity. Myk’s mind was not well. With all the wondrous imaginings the boy had – incredible leaps of logic, intelligence and wisdom that would make philosophers and scientists perk up with interest worldwide – there were also the worrying signs that Myk was never truly alone with his thoughts and breakthroughs. Something was always lingering in his shadow, stalking him, speaking to him from the silence and making pictures out of nothing. When Myk was sixteen, he was old enough to be diagnosed as schizophrenic. Whether it was true or not didn’t really matter because the symptoms fitted well enough, and by then his parents were so desperate for an answer that Occam’s razor was well within reach. They would hold it to his throat for the rest of his life, and he would always run from them out of fear of what that razor could do to him, only to return out of basic obligation.

Why Myk felt the need to honour family clauses was completely mystifying. Even in moments of clarity, Myk understood the nature of their family unit – that it was a controlled environment centred on learning and development rather than affection and adoration. His parents were not nurturing figures of unconditional love, they were scholars and scientists. They looked to the world around them with unceasing curiosity and were always trying to explore, study and consume as much as they could. In their efforts, they also reserved the time to educate anyone who could be educated. Myk had never rebelled because he resented how they rarely hugged him, how bedtimes were colder when you weren’t tucked in by your mother or read to by your father, it was purely their need to make him better all the time which had forced him to flee. Sometimes the weight of expectations, and not forgetting the pressure of inescapable failure, can be more suffocating and abusing than words of endless hate, physical brutality, and even neglect. Their fear of inadequacy and their determination to fix what they deemed was broken, made the man choose his flights of fantasy over reality at every turn. It wasn’t long before he’d stopped taking the pills, and years of dazzling sights and sounds came rushing back at him, compelling him to explore their insights.

Long before Myk was a Vampire, he was already a devil. He indulged his sins and encouraged the sins in others. There were more than seven sins inspiring Myk, but it was most certainly the eighth sin – curiosity –which had had the most effect. Above all of his personality quirks and longings, it was Myk’s inquisitive mind that was always leading him down rabbit hole after rabbit hole. He carried these memories with him as he wandered the streets of London again – a first in almost five years – yet the sights and sounds seemed as vivid now as they had done when he had lived them the first time around. Of all the characterful places in London, Myk liked Soho the best. The people there were far more open and experimental, and were definitely more willing to indulge a pretty face. Although, Myk was no infallible predator who had never followed the whimsy of his heart – or other organ – into the jaws of pain… Sometimes, Myk had even invited pain. The scars on the inside of his forearms, running vertically up from wrist to elbow, were proof of that. Myk had done those shameful things people do when they are desperate and bored – he’d sunk into the bottom of bottles, he’d injected escape into his veins, he’d openly provoked the anger of monsters, and he’d found peaceful emptiness at the base of long drops.

Myk remembered the time when things had gotten suddenly worse. He stopped on the corner of Soho Square, his back shamelessly open and welcoming to any predators nearby, as he remembered the incident with uncertain clarity. Pewter eyes were locked on the small patch of green that was practically a park between the minor residences and shops. Myk only remembered glimpses of that night. There had been screams. There was blood. The next day they’d discovered a body in the bushes. Myk had been questioned, but, there was little to no evidence to stick him to the crime. He kept his mouth shut – partly because that was the best thing to do, but also because he didn’t know what had happened. Good old British police work could sum up little more than that the killer was probably motivated by rage, but people were found dead so frequently in Soho that nobody ever batted an eyelash. It was uncomfortable to question it – as was the nature of the time. This account had been no different and nobody even recalled the poor boy’s name. Myk’s parents were not so convinced of Myk’s innocence, however, and had decided that it was best if they shipped their problem abroad. Sending Myk to Harper Rock City in Canada had not solved the issues, but exaggerated them. Now, not only was he as nut-filled as a Snickers, but he had the kind of inhuman strength, speed and senses that would make Spiderman weep with jealousy.

When footsteps approached him, soft and slow like dropping snowflakes, Myk tried to pretend that he wasn’t aware of the presence. It was distracting really, pulling him out of space and time and magic, calling him back to Earth and to darkness. Pewter eyes blinked twice then narrowed as he felt the air shift, heard the footsteps had closed in behind him, and some other movement – something slow and purposeful – had closed the gap. The wind was in front of him, blowing back the scents of the world, so the identity of the predator remained obscured for now. Myk only got a sense of height and delicacy from the way they moved, and in the denseness of the public streets, it was probably just a pick-pocket who had targeted him. Myk didn’t feel particularly threatened. Myk also didn’t despise thieves seeing as how almost everything he owned had either been a gift or had been stolen. This person’s technique was a little juvenile, however, and that thought did annoy him. It was a little insulting to be targeted like he was some common John. This thief was unskilled and needed to be taught a lesson.

It wouldn’t do either one of them any good for him to make a spectacle of this, and since Myk could cause a scene standing in an empty room, he had to be careful. Myk’s cold, pale hands were secreted in his jacket pockets and he wondered if it would be best that he just stay still and let the little pest do what they had intended. He could pretend that he hadn’t noticed them approach, he could pretend he hadn’t felt the hand slip into his back pocket, but it was so contrived. Myk couldn’t bear it. The thought of being stolen from by a street urchin was devastating to what little pride he had. Plus, he was the merciful sort – if someone had just come to him and asked for cash, he would have given it freely. That was when the Vampire had made up his mind. In one motion, Myk had turned the upper half of his body and caught the – young girl – by the wrist. His grip wasn’t overly sharp or punishing and had a kind of merciful softness to it. It was almost like they were lovers, fooling around and playing games and she’d just been caught tickling him and had to be stopped. Once Myk had a steady hold on her, he turned fully to greet those grey eyes, his mind playing tricks on him, convincing him that he had reprimanded his own reflection before it had caught up. Undoubtedly she would try to pull away from him and as she would, he would release her. He would tut at her, shake a finger of chiding, and let her fall on her behind. She would get up and run, and he would follow.

Oh how good it felt to be back in London; the city that never changes.

[Bella Rose (DELETED 7820)]

Bella froze as she felt the bone-chillingly cold hand grasp her wrist. It wasn’t a tight grip, surprisingly. The man, she realized, as she looked at his face, though it was slightly masked in the darkness, was more peculiar than she had originally thought. He looked young. Definitely older than she was, probably mid to late twenties, but young nonetheless. He was beautiful, in a twisted sort of way. His hair was of similar color to hers, a pure white that could be compared to freshly fallen snow. The pigmentation of his skin reminded her of porcelain. His eyes were dark, but gentle. She was confused. She couldn’t tell what his intentions were, which was curious as she was usually able to detect emotion by examining certain body language and facial expressions, but his didn’t exactly match up. He didn’t look angry, but he still had an ominous look about him that made her uneasy. If he wanted to keep her within his grasp, he could easily do so. He was certainly stronger than her. She was slightly toned, but still thin enough to where most people could hurt her, which irked her but as for the time being there was nothing she could do about it. And besides, she certainly hadn't grown up with the means to build much muscle, or learn the art of self defense, or even properly pick a pocket. The world outside the walls that suffocated her was a mystery. And this put her at a great disadvantage, she came to realize.

The thought of grabbing a knife from the kitchen before she left only now occurred to her, and she felt like an imbecile for it. What had allowed her to be so confident, so foolish, as to believe she was safe just because she felt it? Since when did emotion play a factor in her decisions? And of all times to have forgotten something, why now? Something so vital to her safety, something so easy to get a hold of, neglected and consigned to oblivion.

F****** idiot.

And there it was. The feeling. The numbness had become so familiar now that anything that got her blood pumping, even just a little bit, took her by surprise, and thrilled her, in a way. Her heart rate sped up immensely, and her stomach was in knots, but it was exhilarating. Though she didn't particularly want to die just yet, she did not fear death the way most did. It was a part of life, and she would be ready for it whenever it decided to greet her. Not that this man's intentions were necessarily murder, but she welcomed the possibility into her thoughts. Though she was not fearful of it, deep down, she did hold a small desire to experience life before going into an eternal slumber. Even she was not completely immune to human emotion and desire, though she understood that often her apathy to things such as death and pain were sociopathic. The thought didn't perturb her. She had visited the darkest corners of her mind in all of her free time at the orphanage, and she had come to learn not to fear it. It was just a part of her. It would remain unchanged, so why waste time trying to fix herself? She didn't feel she was broken.

Though the logical part of her brain, the part of her brain containing her self-preservation instinct, was telling her that this was not a thrilling event. It wasn’t a “good" situation to be in. She wasn’t safe. It was telling her to run. She wouldn't hide from death should it come nearer, but she wasn't just going to run into its arms either. She would put up a fight (a symbolic one, of course), if for nothing but her own pride.

The flight or fight response. Something she had learned during a science lesson a few years ago. She couldn’t remember the context, but the psychological reaction itself wasn’t difficult to recall, to bring forth to the front of her mind. It was as if the memory was triggered by her circumstances.

The flight or fight response, also called the "acute stress response" was first described by Walter Cannon in the 1920s as a theory that animals react to threats with a general discharge of the sympathetic nervous system. The response was later recognized as the first stage of a general adaptation syndrome that regulates stress responses among vertebrates and other organisms. There are some that, when confronted with a stressful situation, are inclined to stay and confront whatever the situation is. There are others, whom she came to realize were like herself, that when put into a stressful situation, are inclined to run away. Surely this didn’t make her a coward? No, of course not. She was being smart. Logical. Anyone of her age, experience level and physical attributes would be idiotic to try and confront the person in this situation.

She attempted to pull herself from his grasp and just as he let go, she lost her balance and fell backwards due to his unexpected release of her wrist. She quickly picked herself up and began running down the street, opposite of the way she came. The alley had been very close to her but it would have been stupid to start heading down somewhere where there were no people, and it also would’ve been stupid to start heading towards the place she was trying to get away from. She’d rather die than go back there. Literally.

Bella was unsure of whether or not the man was following her but it was instinct for her to keep running. The crowd was dwindling in size and as she turned a corner, the unnerved feeling returned to her. She was alone again. But this time, she knew she wasn’t safe. There was no one around to save her, should anybody try to hurt her. And as she felt the danger growing, so did her desire to experience human life and all of its wonders, even the not-so enjoyable ones. So she just kept running. But she was losing her breath at this point and she knew she would have to stop soon anyways. Her feet hurt from running barefoot and she was pretty sure when she had fallen, she'd cut herself on a piece of broken glass or something of that nature. She could feel that her hand was bleeding but obviously didn't have time to properly observe it. She turned into another dark alleyway and hoped that the lack of light would conceal her should he be nearby, or come looking for her. There wasn’t any sign of the man following her, so she stopped and leaned against a wall to catch her breath, hoping she was safe, but knowing deep down that this hope was erroneous and naive.

[Myk]

Since she did not struggle immediately to escape, Myk allowed himself a moment to appreciate the sight of this conspicuous little vagabond. Her porcelain skin, though fair and dazzling by dim light, paled against the platinum veil of her hair and the mottled darkness of her eyes. She was dressed so simply that she could vanish in darkness, but more than that, the look in her eyes suggested that she was so used to going unnoticed that it was a shock to have been discovered, least of all caught red-handed. Pewter orbs found themselves staring at how familiar she was, convincing him that she must have been some sort of hallucination of his fragile mind. After all, how could it be true that two strange creatures would find themselves on the same street at the same time? Myk’s was not a common look, and in fact, he made a name for himself as being a freak wherever in the world he’d been. London had never proved itself to be an exception to the rule, and so, it must have been some strange figment of his imagination that he’d found her. How else could it be true? How could he come home after years of skulking, and the minute he reminds himself of a past life, he finds this young thing that is uncanny in appearance and behaviour to himself? She must be a late reminder of Christmases past, Myk decided – evidently there was a back-up in the Karma department in God’s little workshop.

The fact that the woman had not screamed – although refreshing and convenient – did nothing to sway Myk’s conviction that she was simply a mirage. If she had screamed, it wouldn’t necessarily have converted him, but it most certainly would have been more difficult to stalk her once she’d fled. A few of the citizens had cast Myk and the young woman a glance anyway as she’d scuttled off and made a run for it, but thought nothing more of it as Myk’s countenance was so cool and collected. They didn’t suspect a thing as the white-haired male shrugged his shoulders and began to step nonchalantly in the direction that she’d run full pelt at. Although the Vampire was very capable of high bursts of speed, there was no need to race after her. If she were an illusion of his sick mind, or maybe some kind of spirit, he would find her due to his mind’s need to meet whatever conclusion it was trying to come to, or he simply wouldn’t. Fate was predefined, after all, so if he was destined to find her, he inevitably would. There was no point running around the city, causing a fuss or a commotion, when he could stick to the shadows and pursue the girl from there. If she was real, she would tire eventually and he would corner her like a rat.

The accomplished tracker had noticed that the figment had left a very Human scent in her wake. Her unique perfume was easy enough to filter through the grime and the smog of the city, but it wouldn’t last for too much longer. Clouds had started to gather in thick clumps, growing over one another like corals seeking new ground. The darkness got heavier as the moon, which was only a silver crescent in the pitch sky, suffered through the layering of cloud. Myk could feel the moisture in the air clumping together too before a speckled breeze perforated the veil of stagnancy, stirring the weightless and the unrepressed from their slumber. As Myk continued on the path the ghost had left for him, he realised that there were far too many distractions. He crossed a street and then another, but even though the volume of people dwindled each time, he felt overwhelmed by the scent of life. Myk took in a breath as he closed his eyes; the oxygen wasn’t needed of course, but the habit was there. The inhale of damp, sweet air was also calming and it focused his senses on that scent of blood. There she was again, as clear as if he could see her platinum locks shining in the sallow light. He followed her to another alley, feeling the scent was so much richer as he continued. Myk was definitely on the right track, and it wasn’t long before he was sure he could hear her.

Another turned corner opened up the world again; the walls spaced out almost as if Noah had been around here parting buildings instead of large bodies of water. Myk smiled to himself, happy for this new found space; not that he was claustrophobic in the slightest, he just liked having enough room to breathe now and again. It wasn’t too much to ask, he felt, but fresh air was clearly in short supply throughout the city. The pollution was ripe, tingling his nostrils and causing him to wish for a retreat from all that stench. The strongest of the smells in this particular alleyway was, naturally, cat urine – or at least he really hoped was cat – which effortlessly provoked a low growl from him. Upon hearing the noise, a few dozen cats had fled from their secure hiding places and disappeared into the night, which was something of a relief. Now that the overwhelming presence of a mass feline orgy had vacated the area, silence flooded in and Myk could focus on the sound of the mortal. The source appeared to be none too far away and despite its frailty, spoke volumes of an avid soul. Myk approached with caution and curiosity, each muted footstep bringing him closer to the perfume of Human blood, the music of a fearful heart and sharp breaths. Leaning gently to the wall as he came around a dustbin, pewter eyes spied a familiar crown of white hair.

For a moment, Myk thought to conceal himself in darkness, to disappear from sight, but what would the security of invisibility bring him if his intentions were pure? He had no reason to harm her; the crime was minor and superfluous in the grand scope of things, and since he’d caught her anyway, deterred her, she’d done nothing wrong. Pursuing her was something he’d done because he was prone to following his instincts; just as dogs will chase anything that will run, Myk followed his curiosity to wherever it took him. Generally the mutt wouldn’t know what to do with the thing once it had caught it, which was exactly where Myk was now. He could scold her like she were an unruly brat, he could scare the ever-living daylights out of her with some empty threats, he could eat her, or he could question her a while and see if she really was a figment of his imagination. The choices were slim. Likewise, the girl had few options. She could try to run again, but no doubt her mortal form had come close to exhaustion, whereas Myk had the stamina to chase her across the city without tiring. She could try to attack him, and the attempt would likely crack a few ribs as he laughed himself into a stupor rather than receive her as a genuine threat. Alternatively, she could converse with him a while and wait until his interest had died, because honestly, that was the only way she could actually escape him.

After giving it some thought, the white-haired Vampire hummed to himself and decided to lean across the dustbin. The metal creaked with his weight as he rested on his forearms and looked down at her; pewter eyes shining like molten mercury.

“My, my… You do run quickly,” he said, his voice so velvety and tuneful that it sounded as though one of those stray felines had turned into a man and had started speaking to her. Myk’s accent, being as anomalous as it was, gave no real hint to his nationality, but there were definitive lilts of French and English lingering in the rolling vowels and sharp consonants. “But then you would, wouldn’t you. You had been caught breaking the law… Lucky for you I’m not the police.”

[Bella Rose (DELETED 7820)]

As the man approached, Bella considered running again but he didn’t come across as threatening, at least not judging by his demeanor. Not that this necessarily meant anything at all, but she wouldn’t be able to run much more anyways. So she surrendered and would accept whatever fate was to come to her. There wasn’t much she could do at this point, anyways. It was strange, though her lack of options, her lack of control over the situation calmed her. She didn’t need to make any hard and fast decisions or risk doing anything rash. What would be would be, and that was the way of it. Should this be the end, than this was the end. It was very black and white, surprisingly enough, as most things in this life contained many shades of grey. But then, she supposed, perhaps she was missing something. It couldn’t be black and white, could it? Nothing ever was. Why should this, something so seemingly significant, be so clear cut. But perhaps that was what made it so significant? The lack of any vagueness whatsoever? Bella contemplated this as the creak of the metal garbage can echoed through the alley, breaking the warm silence.

As he spoke, it was is if honey dripped from his tone. His voice was soothing though it conflicted with what she had thought his intentions were. He could be toying with her, for all she knew. Playing with her a bit before he killed her. It didn’t matter. She would play if that was what he wanted. “I’m not sure how lucky it is.” She spoke in nonchalant tone. “I don’t know what your intentions are.” She drawled. Bella held a traditional English accent as a result of growing up in London. Her voice could be compared to that of smoke arising from a dying fire, combined with small gusts of winter wind during twilight, waves of chilling beauty and frosty darkness dancing across the quiet earth and through the air, coming to life in the first few pages of the book of day, the evanescence of the rising sun making it all the more precious, as the foreword often does in literature. It was light and sweet, silky even, yet had an anomalous darkness to it that created an almost haunting feel when combined with the slight hint of smokiness that slipped through now and again.

In reality, it was lucky. Had he been a police officer, she would have had to return to the home for girls. And as already stated, that would be a far worse alternative than anything this man was going to do, which was part of the reason why she had chosen not to cause a fuss when he had caught her. It would have only drawn attention to her, and then someone would have inquired as to why she was alone this late at night. And seeing as the home wasn’t very far from there, surely someone would have figured it out and she would have been taken back, in worse circumstances than before she'd left. Yes, whatever this night brought her it would most certainly be better than returning to that morgue. It would be death in a different form, worse because she would have to live with it.

Bella was tired. It was late, the physical activity had exhausted her, being so out of shape, at least in terms of cardio, and now she was feeling her mind grow weary as well. It was as if she was coming down from a high. The exhilaration had been short lived, as it usually was. Now she was just bored. She just wanted whatever this was to be over with. If he only wished to scold her and send her on her way, she wished he would do it so that she could focus on where she was going to go and what lied ahead of her. If he was going to hurt her, or kill her, she wished he would hurry that up as well. She wasn’t feeling playful, not anymore. She wasn’t a very patient person, and so she turned to look at him, straight into his eyes, which were twinkling under the moon, solely for the purpose of showing her lack of dismay. “Are you going to harm me?" She posed the question as one would asking where the silverware was kept. Not accusing, nor fearful, just matter-of-fact.

[Myk]

Her question was highly anticipated. The victims were always asking the same things:

Would he hurt her?

Would he rape her?

Would he kill her?

Females had to face those questions more often than men did, Myk figured, because it wasn’t like he’d been regularly threatened by all three. Though, honestly, it was rare that a threat ever preceded a beating or attempted murder in his experiences. They used to just come out of the darkness, usually from behind, and there was no time for questions. Sometimes Myk had been luckier than he realised, but, he couldn’t exactly appreciate that, couldn’t include it in his great calculations when he was ignorant of the sum. These things had happened when Myk hadn’t known better to predict them, or maybe, just didn’t care to. Things were different now, not merely because he could hear how the air shifted when objects and people approached, or how a heart would pound when it was excited or anxious, but because he was just more aware of intentions now. Myk didn’t require supernatural insights to know that sharpened eyes and clenching fists meant danger. He was naïve then, and not so much anymore, which was why he was smirking to himself at her question rather than trying to comfort her. Well, that and he was also a little insane. Obviously if he’d wanted to kill her, he was perfectly capable of it, but sometimes predators do like to toy with their food first, meaning her question was perfectly valid even if it was hilarious to him.

Myk shifted atop the dustbin to get himself a little more comfortable, feeling his back aching under the pressure of the angle. It shouldn’t have felt as uncomfortable as it was; bending over something at waist height wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to the Telepath, but perhaps it was just the circumstances that made it weird. Honestly, he did feel a little stiff in the joints for being back in the cold, damp wrappings of England, but there were a plethora of reasons that could account for this feeling. The Vampire hadn’t eaten in a day or two simply in the effort to avoid suspicion, and perhaps there was something about being away from the place of his supernatural birthing that made him twinge with pain and discomfort. Myk hadn’t left Harper Rock too often since his turning – not out of fear of the great unknown and what could become of a Vampire outside of their hovel, but for a basic lack of enthusiasm to leave. Many Vampires refused to exit Harper Rock on account of the Rift that was protecting them, but Myk had never been afraid of permanent death and so hadn’t found that to be a deterrent. Myk hadn’t left Harper Rock – despite being something of a gypsy in his youth – because the city was a world all its own; there was always so much to explore and so much to learn that leaving felt like it could be a detriment to his knowledge bank. Myk was only here in London at all because, well, it was his mother’s birthday in a matter of hours…

Brushing a stray lock of white hair behind his ear, pewter eyes watched the cold, accepting face of the youth beneath him as he mused quietly to himself. Myk was still uncertain about her composition, whether she was a phantom, a wisp of his imagination, or merely a ghoul of a girl living on the streets. Her attitude was providing no real weight to any argument because she could just as easily have been cold on account of not being real as she could have been because she was just like him. The girl looked like him, so, maybe she had suffered and experienced and characterised herself in a similar manner – or maybe she was just like him because he was supposed to learn something here about himself. Myk couldn’t know for certain, not just yet, and if he really wanted to test the nature of her substance, he might have to lure her into the public and analyse their reactions to her. In order to do that, he would need to have her be amicable toward him because it would do him no good to drag her kicking and screaming through the streets. For one, the general public in London tried to ignore violence and confrontation the best they could, so it was unlikely to stir a reaction. For two, if by some miracle that they actually found some police walking the street tonight, it could end horribly; they could try to catch him and he might have to dispatch them. Once again Myk felt his options close around him like a noose, so he opened his mouth and let the first birds of thought fly.

“Are you hungry at all?” Myk asked curiously, avoiding her nonchalant yet imperative question. “There’s bound to be some place that’s still open even at this time of night.”

It would only be natural to now assume that this would be her last meal before the inevitable. Dismissing her question did not mean that he had no intention to harm her and Myk really didn’t want to build up any expectations on her behalf. The truth was, he couldn’t promise anything for her safety and she shouldn’t trust him to either. Myk certainly appeared out of the ordinary; he dressed in an alternative style, wore his bone-white hair big and long, painted his pale skin an even paler shade, and even wore mascara on the days when he wasn’t being feminine. Myk didn’t look unattractive or filthy or bad, but he didn’t look right. His mannerisms were also highly questionable. Regardless of the circumstances, the Telepath was friendly, sometimes chatty, sometimes flirty, or he could be cold, matter-of-fact and a little irritable, sometimes mocking. He could be spacey and unpredictable and just odd too; his mood swings were as volatile as the changing weather and often made just as little sense. Although Myk wasn’t purposefully hostile, he could be aggressive and he most certainly was capable of violent behaviour. Myk had killed on impulse and instinct before, he had slaughtered and butchered and brutalised many people in his life time simply because he’d felt like it and couldn’t find a reason why he shouldn’t at the time. Often the Telepath wouldn’t remember his crimes, and just as often he would regain consciousness only when in the face of the consequences. Those were dark, confusing times, and they were not always foreseeable.

Control was one thing that Myk lacked, and yet he was compelled to control everything. Losing that grasp on his emotions, his actions, and of those around him, was unsettling to say the least. To look on the bright side, Myk could say that it was an adventure and at least he was never bored. The girl, on the other hand, looked bored. That dead gaze she gave him was apathetic, reminding him of fish that had been on ice for far too long. It was possible that she had just built her walls so high around her emotions that it was difficult for her to feel anything: happiness, sadness, grief, fear and excitement were all locked away. Just as likely, however, was that she was simply not right in the head either. Maybe death was a release to her, or, maybe she just understood it for what it was and so didn’t run when it came down to it. A lot of people worried about death and a lot of people tried to push those thoughts to the back of their mind and never want to consider it, but death comes to all whether they are prepared or not. So when its shadow loomed over people like her and people like Myk, they were just open to it, accepting, nonchalant. It either took you or it passed on, there was no point fretting or feeling anything at all. You live or you die, or you live.

“We’ll… call it my treat,” Myk offered after a moment’s hesitation. “Since you seem to have a money problem.”

There was no guarantee that she would agree and follow him to a small take-out joint, which was likely to be the only thing still operating at this hour, but Myk had to try. He felt not unlike a social worker as he straightened at last and looked to her expectantly, though curiously more so. It was strange to be the Samaritan, out on the streets of London picking up young vagabonds and offering them food. What was next, would he offer her a place to sleep? Would he call her parents and make them give her a telling off for being out so late? It was preposterous that he should even care if she was a real girl; plenty of people lived the same damn life that she was and he hadn’t cared before. People, whether alive or undead, were all inherently selfish and perhaps the real outcome of their meeting would be that once he was bored of her, he’d probably eat her. That dull, throbbing pressure at the pit of his stomach wouldn’t relent until he’d fed and if he really was going to visit his Famiglia, he couldn’t go hungry. Not after the last time…

[Bella Rose (DELETED 7820)]

Bella examined his expressions closely. She watched his lips curve upward into a smirk at her question, and became almost certain that his intention was indeed to harm her. She suddenly came to the conclusion, however, that perhaps she was thinking with a narrow mind. Murder had been her first thought, but certainly that was not the only possibility. There was of course the incident of kidnapping, which she supposed could be for purpose of ransom, unless he really was just a complete lunatic. Of course, thinking logically, he’d be an idiot to to assume that any family she had would have much wealth at all, considering their reason for encountering one another had been her attempt at stealing money. And though she did not know this man personally, she was under the impression that he was not in fact an idiot. So yes, the possibility of kidnapping for ransom seemed almost out of question. If it was to take place, it would probably for reason none other than his own sick mind. Bella was no stranger to a sick mind, though she wasn’t all that interested in being taken hostage. He could also just severely injure her and leave her bleeding onto the cold pavement, and she’d be forced to stay there until A) She died, B) Someone else found her, or C) She was well enough to rise and continue on her way (the last one she highly doubted). Bella had never known much physical pain, having never endured it at the home, so she would not deny that the thought was a bit unsettling. Fear of the unknown, or whatever. Her thoughts brought her back to the present as she remembered how her mind had journeyed to this subject of thought. Ah, yes; possible outcomes of her confrontation with the strange man, aside from murder. The other possibility was rape. This thought disturbed her more than anything else but of course she had to consider it, being young and somewhat attractive. She allowed this thought to flitter into her mind for a moment before forcefully pushing it out. She had little to no control over this, so it was best not to ponder it too much.

She could still feel blood dripping more furiously from her hand and attempted to put pressure on it by grabbing onto her sleeve to hold against it. She hoped that in the darkness this small movement had not been visible.

She took a moment for her eyes to graze over his attire. He was peculiar in appearance, but then, she supposed, so was she. Dressed in a dark, hooded, dress-like cloak, he was probably curious of her persona just as much as she was his.

As he inquired about food, Bella realized that she was indeed hungry. When was the last she had eaten? 4 or 5 PM? She couldn’t very well remember, but she knew it had been at least 5 or 6 hours. But that was not of much importance, given her current situation. She supposed that complying with his offer could allow her a possible escape, but that felt like a long shot. Even if she was able to get away from him he would surely follow her and probably had much more stamina than she did right about now. And most probably wouldn’t be very suspicious due to the fact that they could very well pass for family. Every possible series of events she could come up with in her mind still seemed to lead to the same ultimate ending. She now had little doubt that she would not live to see the next sunrise, which did not put her at unease. At least she’d be away from here. Regardless, going out and about at this hour on purposeless adventures did not sound particularly pleasurable, considering her state of fatigue. No. She wanted this to be over with. She would not go with him.

Bella scoffed and raised an eyebrow at him. “You must think I'm dead from the neck up. I’m not just going to go willingly with some strange man I’ve never met before, who’s followed me from the main streets all the way down to this alley just because I tried to pick his pocket. And besides-“ She rolled her eyes. “You never answered my question, which leads me to believe that you do indeed intend to harm me. As expected, of course.” She said this with a sort of acquiescent sigh. "No, I’m not going anywhere with you. If you’re going to do something, you ought to do it here, because unless you allow me to leave in peace, I’m not moving. Not complacently, anyway.” Her eyes fell to her fingertips at this moment, growing more weary by the second, though she was struggling to conceal this. She did not want to appear tired, because doing so would reveal her to be even weaker and less of a threat than she probably looked at the present time. After a moment's silence, she added "No purpose in delaying the inevitable, hm?"

[Myk]

It was when the girl refused to go with him that Myk felt himself come to the realisation that everything around him was exactly as it should have been. None of this was a dream or illusion or ghostly encounter; the girl was flesh and she was blood and she was far more sensible than him. Finally, the lines of commonality were split and the differences began to announce themselves like cucumber in a fruit salad. She was bright – which they had in common – but she was certainly more wise than he was, or maybe that was just sensibility again. She at least gave a damn about her safety enough to avoid following this weird man into her inevitable death. She was perceptive too, recognising that he had failed to make the effort to answer her question and relieve her worries, but she obviously hadn’t considered every possible scenario for that reason. Not that he could blame her. Really, prey were better suited making escape plans rather than wasting their time trying to talk their predator out of hunting behaviour. Although, with that being said, that hadn’t necessarily stopped some animals from trying. Just some days ago Myk had read a story about a tiger in captivity that had befriended his meal – an unsuspecting goat. Despite being the tiger in this scenario, it did give Myk some hope about the true quality of the natural world.

“I have no problem with assumptions,” Myk announced somewhat out of the blue. “It is a perfectly rational way in which we Human beings learn to adapt in our environment. We learn from our experiences, we adapt our learning to further overcome any troubles in the future. We learn that those berries are dangerous to eat, that those berries are red, so therefore assume that all red berries must be dangerous. But holly berries and rosehips are hardly the same things. So while we assume to help us live a little longer, invariably it is the leap beyond the assumption and into fact that evolves us, and is what we should be aiming for so we are doing more than just surviving.” Myk paused to let a wide, confident smile find a permanent place on his features, but also to allow her to find peace within his rambling. “Just because I didn’t say I would not hurt you, my dear, doesn’t mean it’s my intention to cause you harm… I just can’t predict the future, you see? I already inadvertently caused you injury tonight. Who’s to say I won’t do so again? I’d hate to make a promise I can’t keep.”

The white-haired male had spoken a rather large amount in a short space of time, but it was a controlled speech frolicking in a tone that was light and neutral, and within an accent that was steadily becoming akin to Oxford scholars. Regardless, Myk never liked to preach at people and he certainly never spoke in such volume as to bully people into submission with a kind of self-purchased supremacy. Myk never really thought himself capable or justified in telling people what they should and should not believe, but he did feel the need to insert his opinion. People deserved to be enlightened, people should want to better themselves and learn more, and if Myk could help with that, then he felt like he should. Sharing his knowledge just came naturally to him and if someone felt that his opinions were incorrect or inaccurate, well, it opened up the opportunity for him to consider their argument and shape his opinions over. Such trivialities like time or place for such debates never really mattered to the Telepath; he was quite comfortable talking to some wounded urchin in the back alleys of some rain-soaked city as he would be to students in a lecture hall.

“We don’t have to go anywhere if you don’t want to,” Myk said softly, though still possessed that assertive grin. “I figured you’d be hungry though and… well… to be quite frank, I wasn’t 100% certain that you were real. I had to follow you and find out of course… My curiosity wouldn’t let me not,” Myk said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “So, do you have a name or should I continue to refer to you as the girl who looks like me for the rest of time?”

[Bella Rose (DELETED 7820)]

“I have no problem with assumptions,” Myk announced somewhat out of the blue. “It is a perfectly rational way in which we Human beings learn to adapt in our environment. We learn from our experiences, we adapt our learning to further overcome any troubles in the future. We learn that those berries are dangerous to eat, that those berries are red, so therefore assume that all red berries must be dangerous. But holly berries and rosehips are hardly the same things. So while we assume to help us live a little longer, invariably it is the leap beyond the assumption and into fact that evolves us, and is what we should be aiming for so we are doing more than just surviving.”

Bella listened as the man began to condescendingly lecture her. If there was one thing she despised, it was being patronized. But she still was unsure of his mental stability and therefore thought it best not to try pushing any buttons. “I wouldn’t call it an assumption so much as an educated guess. I don’t think it’s completely batty of me to think that you’re going to hurt me given our circumstances.”

“Just because I didn’t say I would not hurt you, my dear, doesn’t mean it’s my intention to cause you harm… I just can’t predict the future, you see? I already inadvertently caused you injury tonight. Who’s to say I won’t do so again? I’d hate to make a promise I can’t keep.”

Bella rolled her eyes at this comment. She realized she was becoming extra snarky at this point but couldn’t resist. It was second nature to roll her eyes at failed attempts at lies. “Don’t you think you’re stretching it a bit with that one? It seems highly unlikely that someone who was not at all even considering bringing me harm would stop to pose the theoretical question of ‘but what if I accidentally or indirectly hurt her?’ You knew very well what I meant, that I had been speaking about purposeful harm. There’s no need to act otherwise. I can’t read your mind, sir, but I do have common sense. And I would appreciate it if you would refrain from making it seem as though my suspicion is juvenile and uncalled for. I may appear young in years but believe me when I say I am much wiser than most would assume me to be."

Bella came to realize that he had nonchalantly pointed out the fact that he knew her hand was bleeding. He wouldn’t have been able to see it after she had got up and ran. No, she was much too fast. And she doubted it had even been bleeding by that time anyways. She supposed he must have seen her attempt to cover it up, but the alley was so dimly lit that it had to have been nearly impossible to see. Suspicion trickled into her mind but she would choose to ignore it for the time being.

He wasn’t sure if she was real? Was he schizophrenic?

Bella relaxed a bit as their conversation grew more casual and turned away from the matter of personal harm. She still didn’t trust him, of course, but perhaps this was good. If he truly was mental, maybe this would provide him with a distraction so that she could manage to escape, casually flit off without him realizing he’d let her go? "What would I be if not real? A ghost? A trick of the light? A figment of the imagination? A figure in a dream?"

Bella would not include her last name. She no longer even considered it a part of her identity. And when the police started looking for her, well, she didn't want to take any chances. Though she supposed her first name and her appearance would be quite enough to identify her. It didn’t matter. She would hopefully be out of London tonight anyways, if things actually ended well with this man. Making and/or severing ties seemed irrelevant. “Bella Rose. But you can just call me Bella. And yours?” It felt silly to be conversing so freely and regularly with this man who could very well end up leading her to her end, but yet, here she was.

[Myk]

Watching the young lady get more and more agitated as he spoke gave the Vampire a warm, fuzzy feeling at the pit of his stomach. She must have thought he was condescending to her, patronising her obviously superior intelligence, but how superior could it be when she was incapable of looking beyond her perceptions? Irony was the feather tickling his ribcage and it took all his willpower – of which he had a small amount anyway – to stop himself from throwing his head back and laughing at her like one of those mad scientists who’d just invented their first death ray. She rather reminded him of Rutherford in that moment too; that prissy feline who quickly devolved into a hissing alley cat whenever Myk said something he didn’t particularly like. Myk enjoyed watching – or rather hearing – that stuck-up Wraith swiftly lose his cool, lose his pomposity, his composure, and fall to Myk’s level, engaging him in an endless squabble that only served as amusement to the Vampire. Rutherford had been at Myk’s side for around two years now, summoned from the Shadow Realm on a whim, and yet he hadn’t seemed to learn his lesson in dealing with the Vampire. This left Myk to assume that either the spirit was dense, or he actually enjoyed their squabbling too. It was, of course, possible that there were other reasons, but Myk wouldn’t be able to know what those were without someone feeding this back to him.

Myk may have wanted to point out to the young mortal that an estimated guess was, essentially, no different from making an assumption, but he couldn’t be bothered in the end. He was merely trying to tell her that, while he found no problem with making assumptions, he was actually trying to say in his odd little way that he wasn’t necessarily a toxic red berry. Yes, he did look poisonous and his actions were certainly worth suspicion, but it wouldn’t give her a stomach ache to be in his presence. In the end, the girl could make her own assumptions about him – like everybody else was entitled to do – and he wouldn’t bother to change his ways to suit them. Besides, it was much more fascinating to watch how they responded. In time, and if Myk bothered to stick around, these patients might learn to adapt their current knowledge bank with future evidence and evolve their thinking, or they would stay in their caves marvelling at the fire they had made by rubbing two sticks together. It didn’t really bother him – it was all data for his curiosity. While Myk was happy to try and help anyone he came across, he would not force that help upon them. You can’t educate pork, no matter how hard you try to stick one in a schoolboy’s uniform, and besides, in the end they do make good bacon.

When the mortal began to pick up on Myk’s comment about thinking she wasn’t real, he quickly realised that he was now some giant, throbbing, glowing toxic fruit in her eyes – one that might as well have been nuclear as well as poisonous. Was he schizophrenic? Well, as a matter of fact, his father and many other psychologists seemed to agree, but that was an assumption made more than four years ago! That was also an assumption made without any knowledge of the supernatural world. Just because Myk heard voices and saw things that others didn’t, did that necessarily mean he was crazy? He could also walk on water, did that make him the Messiah? The mortal’s list of possibilities for what she might be if she was not real sounded so familiar to those tests they had performed all those years ago. The Telepath couldn’t help the look that manifested on his face, his nose scrunching and his eyes narrowing as if she’d just walked a platter of dead skunks past him. Maybe he should consider her question to be patronising, and even if that was her intent, Myk decided to ignore it and focus on her subsequent words.

Finally, a name to assign to a face; Bella Rose. Connotations of Latin seductresses followed that name, but most of all, she reminded him of his mother. Although Myk’s father was French, he spoke enough Italian to his wife and often referred to her as bella, meaning beautiful. That was probably about as romantic as things had ever been between his parents, or, maybe that was what Myk chose to believe. Nobody ever wants to think about their parents having sex, even to the point where one might fondly consider a miracle – Immaculate Conception, perhaps – rather than face the ugly facts. As Myk was so absorbed in his introspection, he almost missed what the girl had said next. She’d asked his name and he blinked at her, features blank and still like she’d just said the magic words to freeze him in space and time. He supposed that it was only natural for her to ask for his identity – the British were really quite polite like that, even if it didn’t serve them any good to be. It wouldn’t serve her any good to know his name when he was obviously some psychopath that had pursued her into some isolated alley. Was she trying to appease him, then? The very possibility had the Telepath released from his stony cage, and a dark smile crept onto those otherwise pale expressions.

“My name? Why, I am Myk.” He never gave his surname and nobody aside from the authorities had ever bothered to pursue the matter at any rate. “Believe it or not, Bella,” he said smirking. “I have met far more people in circumstances more curious than what we’re facing tonight, and those people appear to like me just fine.”

And maybe they did, but those other people were probably just as psychotic as he was. Certainly not all of them were Vampires, as Myk had snared quite a number of mortal friends, but the common denominator was no doubt a slippery grasp on sanity. Come to think of it, did he have any normal people listed as a friend? He couldn’t think of a single one! Jezebel was just as dark, twisted and wise as he was (in all the fun ways). Noelle was so supportive and kind that she simply couldn’t be considered normal by any stretch of the imagination. Her boyfriend, Ripper, had certainly been struck on the head a few too many times since he talked in riddles (Myk wondered whether he should call him Mr Riddler rather than Mr Ripper). Skylar was a firecracker and could give him a run for his money in the bold, foot-in-mouth, and not-giving-a-crap department. Dawn was certainly believed to be out of her damn mind for thinking she was a Vampire, and they were often so alike that they referred to each other as being twins. Alexandrea was quickly proving herself to be an eccentric little tear away – as likely to cuddle you as a shiv you. The Lady was a few sandwiches short of a picnic basket too – in a loveable, adorable way that kept Myk enthralled. Sean talked to himself and saw things (and Myk pretended he didn’t notice). Fable was probably the male equivocal of Noelle (and damn he was pretty too). And those were just the people that sprung to mind on a dime. Myk was sure, if he thought about it some more, he could name a few more names…

“So… You must be from around here, Bella. London, that is. Not the dank alleyway. Unless you are, and in which case, the offer of food still stands.” There was a nervous tone in his voice, but, that was always there when he was rambling; he actually wasn’t anxious in the slightest. Bubbly perhaps, but not anxious. “As a matter of fact, my parents live in Covent Garden. I’m here on a visit. I think it would be rather fun to introduce you to them.”