“Make me bleed – do it all. Whatever desires you’ve had, spill them here, and now. At me.” All the light leaves his eyes; his facade skins off of him and his body is bare. “Let me bleed.” The request is too dire. He envisions himself with his jaw pressed up against the ground, with his bones aching to finally feel something. His mind is too lost in the very bleak vision of his knees skinned against the rug, burning pink before the first layer would start to give in and peel. The image was beautifully grotesque. He could taste the life it brought along his tongue – for a fleeting moment, he could breathe.
The fist comes straight forward, and it plays in lag for him. He sees the hellfire spent in her eyes, in the way her pupils dilate more and more when her hand gets closer to contact him. It lands right against his nose – his bones groan in pleasure, although they do not crack. It isn’t enough yet. Not nearly enough.
Time slows a second time when the glass caresses the air. It comes to his right shoulder, and both of them listen in to the song of the shards. They piece away and they fall into gravity, letting it take control before they shatter away to only lay helpless against the floor.
That should be me, he thinks.
Underneath the skin there’s a human, buried deep within there’s a human – even with such differences in their genetic code, he still bleeds the same as her. And more importantly, what they share in common is their complete difference to indifference. He reads it in her eyes, and in the way her hands are overwhelmed in delight, shaking for more, screaming for more. More, more, more – more until it’s enough. They held that insatiable urge together, and he reveled in her company because of it. Animalistic, beastly – but still human, still weak in the need for something to boil his blood. Weak, a familiar voice hushes to him from behind.
That’s all he needs, spurred by one word. And soon he knocks the girl from her feet, with his hands doing the same to knock away at the wind barely left in her lungs. Hungry fingers wrap around her throat, famined in the need of someone trembling in their very grasp. “That’s all I’ve wanted to do to you.”
It takes a moment for her to take in what she had just done, though her mind wandered elsewhere once again as the sound of the shattered glass echoed throughout the room, the same noise repeating in her head. She wishes to see more blood, to feel the thick, liquid-y substance on her fingertips. Just the thought made her heart beat faster and her head pound harder. The need and want to inflict pain on the other grew with every breath she took, inhale, exhale, it only grew. If it wasn’t for the dark, red blood trickling down her wrists, she would’ve forgotten she had cut herself on the shards of glass. The combination of adrenaline and the feeling of being alive was a great substitute for painkillers.
Why she wanted to make him bleed, tear him apart and burn his flesh was unknown to her, only knowing that it gave her the best feeling she could possibly imagine. Her hair would stand straight, shivers would run up and down her body and a smile would grace her face. It was the feeling of living, a human feeling, the reason why humans had nerves, but she couldn’t just feel it in her nerves. It was all over her body, it could be seen, read, the expression on her face as she threw a fist earlier. Her head, her hands, her feet, she could feel it all over. A fire would come closest to describing it accurately, one that had spread throughout her body. But instead of hurting her, it felt like paradise.
A dark, gloomy paradise painted red with blood and adorned with bones and human carcasses.
The hands around her neck burned as much as her body did, gasping for air as she wrapped her own digits around his wrists. She wanted to hurt, she wanted for him to destroy her, but not this easy. There was a fire in her throat and it burned more and more. More. It gave her satisfaction, to the point of bliss. There’s the smile from earlier, present on her face once more even as she tries to peel his fingers from her neck. With so much strain on her vocal chords it became difficult to speak, though she did manage to voice her opinion. “You’re... coward. You’re a coward. Weak.” Sputtering, she managed to cough, kicking him where she could. She was pretty certain she hit him somewhere, so she kept going. “Hurt me more.” It wasn’t enough. Though very close to God’s gates at this point, it wasn’t enough. Be hurt and hurt, that’s all she wanted to do. Make someone suffer. Make them ache, make them bleed and bruise them.
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