Your Pain is my Pleasure.

I heard I was missed.

Olivia could feel his power pressing her harder and harder. Just hold on a little longer, make him work for it she told herself. She knew he was right, that was the reason for her provocation wasn’t it? But her inner pride would not allow him to win that easily. She couldn’t let him be pleased with himself that easily. She wanted him to get angry, to get frustrated. Then the pain would be worse, and maybe, just maybe, she’d be redeemed in the end.

She wanted to retort, tell him off. She had plenty of sassy comments to dish out, but she feared if she tried to speak she would lose what little control she’d mastered to keep. She had to hold on. She had to make this worth something, instead of just a quick and easy end.

"Relax," March crooned, his face taking on the expression of true sympathy. Such an actor he was, every aspect of his physical form suggesting he felt truly terrible for her anguish. It was all part of the game, it was part of the danger that a man such as he possessed. "Just let go." It sounded like it was a promise of paradise, like the light at the end of a tunnel. It's simple, give in, every part of him bade. Uncrossing his arms, the boy shifted to the wall and pressed his back to it, lifted a foot for balance against the surface, rose a hand to his line of sight and inspected the nails. His eyes, all the while, remained the taunting red, effectively pressing the desire to feel emptiness towards her.

"Once you accept that you are alone you can heal," he continued on, tone shifting to that of a counselor, or true friend, rather than master manipulator, "You can begin the path back to redemption. You can feel whole again, instead of empty and pit-less. Like a spoiled peach. You're better than that, right? But not now. No, admit to your faults and then you can heal." It would not be simple. He wouldn't just grow tired. This was his livelihood, moment like these...he cherished.

I heard I was missed.

Olivia clenched her fists. She knew what she had done, what she was doing, was utterly and completely stupid. But what did she have to lose. She’d already made a mess of her life. Sure, her brother would miss her, but he had Ariel. He didn’t really need her. And her father would be better off without her. It was her fault her mother was dead. It was her fault he had to spend a lifetime without her. The world was better off without her.

As much as death failed to frighten her, she refused to give in without a fight. She wouldn’t let him win so easily. She could feel a sense of loneliness. pain, solitude envelope her, but she held on. She wouldn’t let his power completely overtake her. Not yet.

"Just question it all," March continued, a slight pace coming to his body now. He moved, back and forth, red eyes still on her all the while. The amusement evident in the corner of his lips. He wanted to watch her give in, to crumple into nothingness. He wanted it to be believable, for this little episode to continue, draw out. "If you died in a week, would anyone mourn over your grave? Or have you gone so far into your destined future that you're already utterly alone? Surely, a singular soul in the world cares for you, right? Or...would your grave go unadorned with roses? Would anyone remember your birthday? Your name?" His tone was pitying, almost as if he was going to extend his own condolences for a loss she had yet to experience. Still, he pushed out the anguish and let it nip at her.

"I will be here, though," like a light at the end of the tunnel, with false promises. The shimmer of water in the imagined oasis of a desert, so close to the collapse of exhaustion, he allowed himself to be a lie. "To remind you that everything ends."

I heard I was missed.

No one tells me what to do. And I mean NO ONE. I’ll go away when I want to. And I’ve done enough crying for a life time so fat chance the likes of you will make me even produce a tear.

March said nothing, merely narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over the broad expanse of his chest. He needn't make any steps toward her, nor any physical contact. He didn't even blink. The gradual change of his physical features, slipping into the darker aspect of his mind (if such a thing could properly exist). His eyes usually shaded black, no pupils, no sclera...but not this time. This girl deserved something more than the blatant pricks of imagined pain. She deserved to feel the mental projection of such real emotional pain that nothing but emptiness grasped at her heart. And so it was done.

With the smirk on his face, with eyes as red as the Devil's, March began to speak. It was as if his words sewed the tale of her ache, "Have you, though? Have you cried enough for your lifetime? A girl like you...so easy to imagine your suffering more. So easy to see that you will be alone. Eventually, we all are, but isn't yours going to come sooner? Hasn't it already started?" He could feel it inching off of him, his ability. It was invisible, like vectors reaching out and enveloping the redhead in a caress...one that pressed the illusion of utter emotional anguish onto her. "It's alright, girl. You can cry." His tone was oozing sweetness, the believable concern in it a horrific masquerade that contradicted the pleasure wrought upon his features. He waited for her to bow, to fall. It would be delightful.

pinkworld256-blog

27/100 pictures of Taylor Kitsch

#gallery

I heard I was missed.

So what? Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is. You’re some scary god? Prove it. Do something. I’d love to see what the big scary God can do.

#Olivia #(His proving it would be torturing her. And I need to ask before he does that.)

Scary God? No. Beautiful God. Perfect God. A God that needs not prove a damn thing to a piece of meat who doesn't know how to shut her fucking mouth. You are boring. You are boring and fruitless, frivolous, worthless. Go away now, go away and cry. Cry to your friends, cry to yourself, cry your little eyes out. But know that while you cry, I win. I always win.

I heard I was missed.

There may not be anyone around, but I can promise you, if anything happens to me… well let’s just say you won’t like what happens. And some God you are. And for the record my intention wasn’t to give you an erection, sorry to disappoint.

#Olivia #(There is no good in him. xD)

I'd love what happens, actually. You should desist in your attempt to surmise anything about my person. You've been dead wrong every step of the way. Or do you need to be reminded? From your allegations, you have some kind of mystical, magical scream. Congratulations, meat, you can do what every girl can when they feel threatened. So what, yours hurts a little more? Let me give you a hint: I can take it. I'll bask in it, I'll breed in it, and you better hope to your higher power that it kills me because when I defeat it, I will tear you apart, with my mind and my hands. It will be bloody, it will be beautiful, and it will be satisfying. The only hope you have of arousing any part of my being is constituted of being a twitches mass of simpering limbs and bones. Yes, some God I am. Wonderful, aren't I?

I heard I was missed.

You’re not a nobody. No one is a nobody. And I’m not afraid of you. You won’t kill me. I bet you don’t have it in you to kill anyone. Deep down you’re a big softy. You just put on this act because you don’t think anyone cares. People would care if you let them. And stop threatening them

#Olivia #(You read him wrong. He killed his family. And he has a god complex.) (lmfao)

First of all, I know I'm not a nobody. I'm somebody, I'm the best of anybody. Second of all, I was referring to how alone we are in this hall. Nobody to save you, nobody to care, nobody to rescue le damsel en detresse. Third of all, I have killed before. I'd do it again, I want to. Check the juvie records, meat, go ahead. You'll love me. The only thing that's softy about me right now? Is the severe lack of an erection your would-be carebear speech is giving me. Save it for someone who cares. Your words mean nothing to a varitable God, peasant.

I heard I was missed.

I’m… I’m not afraid of you….

She says with terror in her eyes. Words are meaningless, it's all in your gaze. You're practically trembling. And you should be.

But if you want to lie to yourself, save face in front of the nobody, then go right ahead. I won't tell if you won't. After all, two can keep a secret...if one of them is dead.

I heard I was missed.

That might not be such a good idea. One scream from me and you’ll be sent through that wall. So unless you have a form of inflicting pain that doesn’t involve screaming you’re out of luck

Is that supposed to put me off? Is that supposed to scare me? Put me through a wall, please. I'd love the little sensations, the pinpricks of pain. Then I can return it back to you, have you in such sincere pain that your vocal chords don't even work. Don't play the whose cock is bigger test with me, girl. You'll lose every time, every way.

I heard I was missed.

Ok… you’re scaring me. I feel like I’ve just made myself your new target or obsession . Curse my innate friendliness.

Obsession? Please, do not flatter yourself, fire-crotch. There is nothing in this school worth obsessing over, not unless it's writhing on the floor in a coiled mess of nothingness. No, you are a momentary promise of amusement. Your uneasiness alone is befitting, though I wonder, how loud can you scream? Mind if I prick around in that head of yours, feel around for a while until you hit the right notes that make my spine tingle? Oh, can I?

I heard I was missed.

Um……. I’m just going to… inch away now

Cours, petit lapin, cours. I enjoy the chase. I can find you. I can always find them.

Alive, in my head. Writhing, singing, bleeding, crying.

I heard I was missed.

I’m not exactly sure who you are, but I guess welcome back? I’m Olivia. I’m new.

What's that? Who did you say you were? Fresh meat? Oh, yes. I can see that, I absolutely can see that. What to do, what to do, whattodo. Should I toy with you? Should I pursue my next meal? Are you worth the effort? Tell me, meat, how deep does your naivety run?