Welcome to Gaia! ::

First off i would like to say i am not much of a writter and that i put this down almost a year ago. It has only been recently that i have gave it any though. oh and i am posting it all in one post so it is long ._. be prepared.





Some people say that vampires are ones who kill without any remorse nothing but a ruthless pursuit for the life altering substance that is blood. While that maybe all true, there is still more to it, more to this accusation of so called killers. What makes it wrong to want to live? though living forever, soon the idea slowly dies with the light when you realize your alone. Or should I say stained in blood the vampire rages on until the time they themselves are devoured...

Triangle

I remember I woke that day on the ferry. It was well passed noon. The winds caressed my skin plunging me into a state of cold. The blanket of ice seemed to follow me to the deck. As I wobbled back and forth struggling to keep my footing there appeared to be a crashing pain in my stomach much like someone making butter out of my intestines. The pain struck me like a storm, but I had been a very sickly child, some days better then others so it was to be expected. I grabbed onto the support beam, latching on much like a leach would. The smell of fish had been worn into the old wood. There had to be people bailing out the water constantly, the only thing keeping the boat from sinking into the dark abyss waiting for us below the water's ever shifting surface. They had been the ones who awakened me I believe.
There were a lot of immigrants here, all desperate to get away from their old life, to start over new, fresh. I myself was there for that reason, though also for that reason we were force to sleep piled on top of each other as well as work on the ferry. Due to the large amount of people some were compelled to live off the many rats that ran around below deck, because of that fact many died, never able to get that new life they were so desperate to see, to have. The other passengers tossing the dead over the boat similar to tossing away an empty carton of milk with a missing child's face pasted on the side, just like that with no emotion, no concern, no guilt of throwing something once living, still cherished over a cold rusty old railing into the water for the millions of fish to nibble at. Letting it sink to the bottom of the darkened blue waters much as a ornament at the bottom of a fish bowl. It confused me at first, this action, but then it dawned on me later that they didn't care for anything besides their own self, not the little child huddled in the safety of the damp corner feasting on the corpse of a rat because she was too weak to push through the crowd of people before the portions of food was gone. Or perhaps the mother sitting on the stairs watching her husband eat her infant alive. Tears flowing from her cheeks as she hears her baby's last shrill scream for help before it chokes on it own blood. That is when I realized that humans have a strong will to live, so strong that they discard everything that is not in their best interest. If that is what you want to call it, a will. Stepping through the water that raised just above my ankles I made my way to the thin row of stairs. I had been below deck for a few days though it seemed like months, tossing about on the floor too sick to stand. I hadn’t eaten so my mouth watered even at the smell of the old fish. There were still people sleeping, there always were, I had a feeling that some wouldn't wake. I could see the skin rotting already. They would probably be thrown over today or in some case eaten. No longer could I stay down there with the sick and the dead. Pulling myself out the last few steps by seizing the two sides of the opening, using all my strength just to thrust myself forward into the light. The fresh oxygen was refreshing to my nostrils. Even the salty air made my mouth water, but I understand that everyone’s mouth was indeed watering. Though the ray’s of the sun were dull at the time it still made my eyes sore. I was stiff and needed to move. Walking over to the railing I leaned over looking into the “deep blue” as they called it. So many times before had I thought about throwing myself overboard. Rather do it myself then have others do it for me after I’m dead, right? I could see the propeller at the angle I was in. The images of the people getting tossed over the front railing crashing into the speeding blades made my stomach cringe. They had stopped that now, I hoped. I was brought back to reality by the sound of a boisterous noise of water breaking. The sound of a child crying made my head spin. I felt dizzy, almost to the point of collapsing. Gasping for breath I fell back inside the safety of the ferry. The crying didn’t cease. I couldn’t catch my breath. This was a good place as any
I woke many hours later. It was dark, blue had turned black. The crashing of water on the side of the boat soothed my stomached. I was afraid to move, fear of losing consciousness again, I probably wouldn’t awake. My head hurt. Swimming with a pain, threatening to split my skull open, letting the blood slowly trickle down the boat into the water in which I would be thrown soon enough. Placing my hands on my throbbing forehead I let out a long sigh. Was this all worth it? I didn’t know. I came from England, Dover to be more exact. Being on this ferry for god knows how long, I could only hope it was almost over. I had really no reason to run from my country, merely running away with the knowledge that I could not stand living as I had been.
Being a older brother and a rebellious son to a working widow just didn’t sit well with me. My father died when I was thirteen. I was there that lonely night that I would surly regret the rest of my life, or until I lose my memories to some random disease. Father and I didn’t have the most close relationship I image, but still. He had taken me out that night, just me and him. Sometimes he just needed to get away from everything and that night he asked me to go with him. I was quick to accept his invitation. We lived in a small apartment, two bedrooms that were too small to fit anything other then a bed inside. Though me and my little brother shared a room most of the time I slept on the floor in the living area because I was sick a lot and didn’t wish him to catch it seeing as we slept in the same bed. I would watch my mother run bout in the kitchen trying to keep herself busy, anything to subside her suspicion about father having an affair at work, which, I still don’t know if he even worked. Though the money had to come from somewhere, mother usually stayed home taking care if me.
* * *

When he asked me to go I was feeling better. As when we go anywhere we walked, we were to in debit to afford a car, but still we managed to live fair enough. It was cold that time of year, I usually don’t get as sick when it is time for the colder weather. As we walked down the streets twisting and turning I made sure to stay close to my father. Occasionally he would put his rough hand around my shoulder pulling me close to his side as people passed, but soon after would release me to as I was. We stopped outside a local pub, I had been there only once before. It had change since that time. He walked in without even looking back to me, I made sure I was at his heels. Wouldn’t want to get caught without an adult. The smell of cigar smoke was overwhelming to me. My eyes began to water. I strained to keep up with him. Weaving though the crowed. There was an empty spot at the bar. He sat on the stool with a grace as if he belonged there. I stood by him silently until he turned to me handing me a small glass of brownish color liquid. I took it out of his hand and he turned his back on me. Closing my eyes I sipped on the glass. It tasted bitter un sweet making my face wince. I didn’t complain nor make a sound, just regretfully sipped on the brown un welcoming fluid hitting my stomach like a brick falling from a five story building to the ground below, shattering. I heard my father’s voice. He wasn’t talking to me. When I looked up to him he was conversing with another man sitting in the barstool next to him.
The man was a bit younger then my father from the looks of things. He seemed like he wasn’t from Dover from his accent. His black hair and blue eyes amazed me almost in a seductive way. My father seemed to be falling under his spell as well. The way they talked so casually it implied that they had met before. He put his hand on my father’s lightly kissing him on the cheek. I assumed it was a thing from were he came from, but my father replayed to this action by tenderly thrusting his lips into the man’s, relieving my mother’s suspicion. I could see their tongues entering into each others mouth moving around like some ancient tribal dance. I stared wide eyed at the two, quickly diverting my gaze as my father’s lover looked my way. He smiled sheepishly in my direction. When father figured out what his play mate was staring at he turned to me surprised as if he had forgotten I was there. The expressing on his face lightened as he turned back to the man sitting next to him. I figured he had explained to him that I was his son because the man got up from his seat walking the few steps to greet me.
He bent down so that we were the same height. His smile grew friendly, he bared his beautifully whitened teeth. This man was a real peace of work. If I had been older I might have taken his smile for granite. Placing his hand, which were soft to the touch, on my head he told me that his name was Claude. I answered him with a “humph” and turned my head like a spoiled little boy would if he didn’t get his way. Though I did in fact have a lot to say to that man, but I knew if I had opened my mouth father would take me out back beat the s**t out of me so that I would have no strength to move, leaving my carcass in a nearby garbage can for the stray dogs to find and consume. The corners of my mouth forcefully raised, the man being satisfied with that returned to my father’s side. With a suggestive look to them Claude and my father continued their conversation as each one took a turn touching, fondling, kissing the other as they told stories of their life’s. I stood obediently alongside the bar patently for a good hour or so, as they did this. Afraid I was to fall asleep there waiting, I kept my focus on Claude’s long boyish hair shifting back and forth as he moved his hand further up my fathers thigh.
My father stretched standing up. Claude putting his hand on father’s chest and stood as well. As I waited expectantly for them to part each going their own way, they moved closer together, Claude leading father, to where, not a single idea came to my mind. My feet automatically began to move until I unwillingly took over the action of rushing through a crowd of people that seemed to intentionally block my path. with their fast pace I had lost the two within seconds. I decided to back off leaving the crowd, returning to the empty bar that my father had abandoned me at. Sitting at the empty stool I finished the drinks that he, the man which had stolen my father, and my father himself had disregarded as their were more important matters to attend. Apparently so, more so then his own son.
Nothing much came of the next thirty minutes of my life, no sign of father. My face grew warm from the laughter of the people around me ringing in my head. I stumbled slightly as I raised from the bar stool, rubbing a hand over my sore bum. Navigating my way through the thinned crowd I looked wide eyed for anybody really that resembled father or Claude. All shades of blonds, like father and myself, danced around me putting me in a place of awe. There was not another with such midnight hair as Claude in that setting. I felt a hand come lightly down on my shoulder. I spun around with such speed I almost lost my balance sending me in the arms of a woman.
Instinct told me to pull away, but the woman’s grip was to much for me at thirteen. She could have suffocated me in that bosom of hers. From what I could tell she wore a red dress, the kind of red you would only see in a horror movie. Her voice was harsh on my ears. Gradually I squirmed my way out of her threatening grip. Frightened I took a step back to view this new found enemy of mine. She was beautiful beyond any doubt, long legged beauty with a face of a murderess. Pure beauty nothing else. There was something behind her eyes though a sort of glint I was too young to understand. I was intrigued with this woman, standing my ground as the mysterious woman followed my moment, closing what little space there was between her and I. When she bent down to me that was when I noticed the severe green of her eyes as they pierced through my skin to the me in my dreams. Her hand came to my face. The coldness sent a acute pain through my skull, I flinched she smiled at me as I did reminding me of Claude and father bringing me out of the dream-world that the woman had invited me to. Looking away from her as if she were Medusa herself I tried to focus on my mission of finding father and his companion, she wouldn’t have it. I could feel her cold hand traveling down my arm, sliding on my stomach.
Soon I became uncomfortable as she began caressing the bulge in the front of my pants. I uneasily placed my hand on hers pushing with all effort away from me. When I looked around for anyone to call out to there was no one, somehow they had been replaced it seemed with puppet all wearing masks as if in theater. The groping proceeded I felt the button on my pants give. I continued to gaze in the crowd of dolls hung by string all attaching to the ceiling. She moved her face closer to mine whispering in my ear as her hand clasped on my p***s “ hush my child, don’t look away.” she used her free hand to force my face toward her own. I could feel her breath move down my neck, it sent a chill down my spine. I was left paralyzed, wanting to scream out to the nothingness around me. The sweat began to roll down my face like a leaking faucet. My face hot, every muscle in me clenched up. Gasping for the air that seemed to abandon me I put my hand on her face closing off any oxygen from coming to her. She pulled back realizing me. I fell back on the floor.
Gathering herself, she came at me forcing herself on top of me. I was almost crushed underneath her body as she pinned me down with her thighs. I could feel she was not wearing anything under her devil red dress. I wiggled to get myself free, to no avail as she soon robbed me of the old t-shirt that was a couple sizes too large, a hand-me-down. I let out a cry a sort of plea for the woman to seize her actions. The smile on her face grew dull. The room became still as she retreated from my body. I scrambled to my feet. She came at me again. Flinching I drew back. She gave me a light kiss on the cheek, “perhaps when your older” she whispered in my ear. Bending down she grabbed my hand putting it to her lips. She nipped at it causing a small line of blood to show on the palm. I watched as she drew her tongue, licking the cut her eyes locked onto mine. “remember you are mine little one”.
I could feel my energy being sucked from my body. Trying to pull away I fell to my knees. My eyes began to deceive me, locking me out of reality. The images fading until I could no longer see. With my free hand I touched my face, my eyelids remained open yet I could not see. I began to panic my breath became heavy gasps. The woman’s grip that had held firmly to me started to release, suddenly I no longer wished for her to leave, she was the only thing that I was sure of. I tightened my clutch on to her as to tell her not to let go. She none the less realized my hand without fail. I felt her brush by me. I was alone nothing as if I had been swallowed up by a black hole Lucifer himself had cut into existence.

* * *
The cool night wind brushing against my face brought back the empty feelings I had at that moment that the devil herself had let go of my hand. I sat up from the moist deck of the boat. Glancing down at my hand where the devil lady had bitten me. Rubbing the scar that haunted me even now I felt someone’s beating eyes burning their way into the soft of my back. I leaned my head back to observe my surroundings and there she was. A small girl brunette hair messed tangled. It reached to her little elbow. She slowly approached me. I turned to meet her, a bit confuse I must admit. She sat in front of me so that our knees touched, sitting crossed-legged so that her pocket-sized bare feet were tucked underneath her. It was only then I noticed she had a diminutive piece of meat in her hands, to her it must have seemed like a feast. She looked at me wide-eyed, innocent as a child would be. I peered at her with cosine. The silence between us was in an odd sort. Remembering I had neglected to eat for a while now my stomach turned with pain. I placed my hand through one of the holes in my tattered shirt to calm the angry organ. Her hands came up putting the meat within my grasp, she held it in an offering sort of way with her hands cupped.
I was hesitant to snatch the food from the child. Only after she continued to hold out her hands did I take the portion of red meat. plucking it out of her hands with my fore finger and thumb, holding it delicately. I placed it to my lips I could taste the blood it had been freshly killed no doubt. Biting lightly down on the meat to extract the blood I placed it back in the girls hands. I needn’t the nutrients from it as the girl did. It would have been wrong of me to take her prize. “do you have a name girl?” I asked her, my lips chapped . I attempted to moisten them waiting for her response.
She placed the meat in her mouth chewing on the rough hide. I could hear her tinny heart’s beat. The blood had woken me up more then I had thought. “do you?” I repeated. Then it occurred to me that a she might speak in a different tongue. I glanced her over, she must have been at least eleven maybe older. Wearing a dress pink now faded into an off white. My tongue rubbed itself on the roof of my mouth, the taste of blood after so long awakened more then I had wanted, much as on the night the devil in the red dress claimed me as her own.

* * *

My heart raced at such a fast pace I though it would soon burst forth from my chest. The music from the club brought me back to some sort of reality. The voices of those around me became my new priority. Focus on the voices, the only thing that mattered. I heard screams in the distance. Struggling to see with my widely open eyes. I felt my way around. No matter how hard I wished it there was nothing but the flat surface of the dance floor below me. I stood wobbling at first, it was my instinct that told me to look up. The way to heaven. As I did this I was faced with a blinding light that sent my head downwards towards the darkness. holding my head buried within my hands, clenching my eyes shut I was rewarded with silence. Confused by the abrupt quiet I peeked out from the space between my fingers. For a moment my vision was blurry, not being able to make out the faces that surrounded me. At first I wasn’t even sure they were faces, looked more like a jumble of colors. It reminded me of the long days I would stay inside reading the books my mother had collected over the years, though a small compilation I had read them over a few times already, listening to the rain. Waiting for the sound of uplifting quiet to reach my ears, so I could gaze beyond the windows that kept me from the word, the majority of the time, to the rainbow. I found it most mysterious.
My vision return to me like I had never lost it. The dull lights of the dance-floor welcomed me, I was grateful to them as they flashed on the dancers. The hot sweat rippling down their bodies, as if nothing had happened at all. I peered around me, unaware. I was huddled under the bar latching on to the stool nearest to me. I felt as if all of a sudden my stomach would and could force it’s way up my throat, out my mouth, spilling onto the floor. The acids flowing through the cracks in the wooden floorboards, like a river abundant with fish that would feed a family. I was suddenly convinced I was to die here, neglected underneath the busy bar. A tingle ran through my body, a sad sensation calling to me. Starting to hyperventilate I pulled my hands close to my chest, prying for the lord god to swoop down and pick me up, end this confusion, this suffering I was forced to endure in this purgatory, this hell. I cupped my hand over my mouth as if to ease the gasping. Inhaling deeply I could taste the blood from the cut the woman in the red dress had given to me. From the sip came a craving much like someone using tobacco or cocaine. My tongue pried itself from my mouth. With my head screaming “no!”, but everything that I was shouting “yes!” I gave into my addiction. In a mental orgasm I roughly licked the cut savoring the sting.

* * *

The sound of feet skittering across the boat’s deck brought me back to the present. I looked up to find that the girl had run off. Watching as she jumped down the stairs leading to the lower level. A strange one, that child. Peering out over the ocean’s calm, it was almost as if it were asleep I took a deep breath inhaling the night air. A cold sensation filled my lungs. Feeling refreshed I pushed myself up from the moist deck. The breeze had died down, now only gently grazing against my Barbie blond hair. Stiff, I grabbed onto the railing. My bones popped as I stretched. Too much of a good thing can become bad, I would have shivered if I could. My bare feet were becoming uncomfortable with my body. There seemed to be an eternal struggle between by brain and foundation. I toiled to even just to shuffle my feet across the deck of the boat. I reached the small staircase. Balancing myself I began to take four steps needed to reach the bottom. the smell of sick and sweat once again welcomed me as I squeezed my way through the sea of people who smelt of urine and feces. I almost questioned coming back down there. The cold winds and ammonia began to sound like a day at the park. I sat down with my back to the side of the ferry a splinter getting caught in my shirt. Taking a long breath I closed my eyes. This was lasting too long.

* * *
My mind was swirling with the bright colors that surrounded me. I knew I had to move, I was convinced if I had stopped that I would perish. Leaving the safety of the bar I pulled myself up with the stool beside me, forcing my finger out of my mouth. I felt like a baby that lost it’s pacifier. Suddenly my mouth was dry, I tasted chalk. I had to find father, Claude anyone that brought to me some familiarity. A strong pain hit my head as I fought with gravity. My knees trembling underneath me as I took small steps away from the barstool. No one seemed to notice me as I moved through the dancing bodies. The acted as a wave, gently guiding me through the sea of perspiration. I began to feel dizzy, a bit dazed. I could no longer see the walls. The heat getting to me. A jolt of energy surged through me body at that moment. I became more forceful, breaking away from the wave, going against the flow. Closing my eyes I pushed with, as it seemed at the moment, unlimited strength. My hand grazing over the sweat soaked bodies moving in synced with each other.
At long last I felt the hard of the wall underneath fingers craving. My eyes shot open as I gasped for the sweet fresh breath I desired. I walked slowly almost hugging the human waist smelling wall. It seemed queer how much it comforted me to have something solid within my grasp. The music in which was a dull hum in my head before began to pressured my brain into melting. I could just about see the sound waves coming at me to devour what I had left of my sanity. The door knob approximately ten feet in front of me was my focus point, couldn’t look down, if I had the ground itself would swallow me eating me slowly as I screamed for release. Just keep looking straight, just keep breathing, Step by step. Finally my hand closed around the cold metal of the brass knob. I inhaled deeply.
I pushed the door open with such speed I don’t think you could see it even if you were staring at the door when it happened. Jumping through the doorway I shut the door behind me with a sigh of relief. I was overtaken by the sudden darkness of the room. It was quiet, I sighed once more as I laid my head back against the hardness of the wooden door, I could feel the knob pressing against my back. I waited for my eyes to adjust in the dark humid room. The adjustment of my eyes had not yet complete when I noticed the foul smell that made my head jerk forward in the dark. The smell was gagging still so alluring. Pushing myself off the door I took a step deeper into the unexplored room. That is when I realized just how humid it really was, felt like I was lost in a rain forest. The sent was drawing to me, calling for me to find it. So I went to it, searching in the dark, wishing for light. Occasionally peering at the ceiling looking for some kind of window. Before I knew it I was lost in the room not knowing which way was the door. The heavy breaths continued though I wished with everything in me that they would subside. I kept my hands out in front of me as to prepare myself for a confrontation with an unseen object.
It went quiet, I could here a breathing other then mine. As my eyes widened to attempt to see what I could hear. I felt something hard hit my hand. Scared I jumped back holding my hands close to my chest. My heart was beating so fast I had thought it would burst. I could see faint objects in the dark, like tall boxes leaning against the wall, yes the wall. I headed for the wall my feet sliding across the floor and my eyes fixed on the wall for fear of losing it . All my attention was poured into me looking at the wall, that’s when I stumbled. Falling so quickly in the dark, yet I felt like I would never hit the ground. My face hitting the cold cement floor. I felt my nose began to bleed. Something had tripped me, I was definitely not alone.
I had no time to care about the blood pouring from my nostrils. Pushing myself off the floor, I almost slipped in the small puddle that had formed. I was now gasping for breath as if I was being suffocated, choked. The blood dripped into my open mouth. Sliding down my throat as I raced to the wall. The only sure thing was the wall. Hitting it hard I slid down huddled, knees up to my chest. I was almost too scared to breath. the blood how I wished it would stop, reminded me of the woman in the red dress, almost a shudder. I couldn’t smell the mustiness of the room anymore the only thing filling my mind was the blood running down my face, almost forgetting that I was accompany by something, or someone.
My eyes more adjusted now, I looked around for some kind of light switch, anything to let me get a clear view. Rising from the floor I placed one hand on the wall, I was not going to leave it, not now. I almost couldn’t feel my heart as it was beating so fast, almost as if I had no pulse. For a moment I was contemplating weather to even move from my safe spot, but realizing I would not be safe for long I took a step. As my foot hit the ground I could feel a numbness take over my body. I almost collapsed my feet taunting me, my stomach hurting from the drinks at the bar. Biting my bottom lip I dared for another step. Walking blindly with my hands outstretched I felt the wood of the door and me fears fell from me for a moment, I had been saved. attempting a sigh of relief I was cut short by the deliberate heavy breathing on the back of my neck. Fear once again took hold of me squeezing my chest. I felt at that moment like I was caught in the grip of a constrictor, the predator smiling a smile of victory over the prey. One that will leave you staring in the face of death as the oxygen leaves your brain , shutting down. That stale smell seemed to linger, almost gaging at first but now almost coming something normal to me, almost sweet.
Without warning my hand darted out blindly flicking the light switch that I had passed up when I had first regrettably entered the room. The light was blinding almost more then the dark itself. Squinting I fell forward to try to escape but my attempts were unsurprisingly foiled my a tight grip on the back of my neck. Pain I could feel nails began to dig into my skin. It was painful but bearable, more preacupied with getting away. I honestly believe that I would have gladly ripped the flesh off my bones to escape and I am afraid that would have been my fate if not for the grip lifting me off my feet.
“And this is why I try to avoid men with children.” the voice scoffed. It was familiar, annoyed, but there was no doubt I had herd it before. I had not the time to peer around me before I felt the crack of my back against the hard floor. I was numb couldn’t move, though no pain coursed through me I hand a feeling that something was indeed wrong. The overhanging glaring was nothing more then a light bulb on a metal chain. It burned into my retina making me want to flinch, though no movement came. I could see the room now was nothing more then a storeroom, boxes piled in the corners of what I assumed to be more alcoholic beverages. The movement drew my attention. “And here I was trying to spare you” the man now was standing by my face. Their shoes black, made from more of the fancy materials, though scuffed a bit from traveling. He crouched so that I could see his face, as I gazed up in horror at the man that would soon come to terrify me into something close to the edge of insanity.
Blue eyes stared at me studying my appearance as if meant to dig into me to find what really lied deep within the mass of humanity that I was. At first no person came to mind as I gazed back at him until I caught the sight of a few black strands of hair falling over his forehead like bangs and noticed that the rest of the flowing locks were tied back; that is when it hit me and I was almost to shaken to speak his name aloud. I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came of it, mouthing the word “Claude” though pointless in itself after all I am sure he knew who he was, this was only at my benefit. He must have gotten the point when I did this because he then smiled down upon me laying that alluring touch, once again on my head this time letting his hand slide down the side of my face, ah how soft and for a moment I believed I wanted it to stay there forgetting about where or what position I was in. His finger tips ran down to my chin slowly guiding my gaze away from him and to the mound past him laying in the middle of the floor where the light shone the brightest.
At that very moment I swore, in the distance, beyond the walls, beyond the vastness of the city; deep in the wilderness a wolf cried in triumph. I could in vision the mass of fur tangled, matted with blood of it’s victim. Merciless eyes. A mouth full of grinning teeth. Tinted in red. Shrouded in the shadowed, but was defiantly there. Shaking my head free of the though I now peered at what was before me. In absolute terror, for that is all it could be, my mouth dropped open. Claude’s hand clapped over it to quell the scream that he and I both knew would have undoubtably come.
The face staring back at me, the stern look I had known all my life. The look He used to hide things from mother. Tears, not necessarily those of sadness, came to my eyes. Perhaps they were more of shock then actual morning; for the man staring at me resembled my father in a minimal amount. His eyelids had been ripped away from his face leaving two waterfalls that ran down causing a oasis to form under his cheek in which his head rested. I could barely make out the rest of him. Marred as if he had been through a meat grinder, Like I had seen done with cattle in the butchery. There was definitely no clothing on his person. It was all flesh. His p***s, which had been brought to my attention when we bathed together, appeared to have been castrated. As my eyes scanned over the bloody corpse of my father I could feel Claude’s thumb wipe at the trickling tears I had not cared to notice. Again, his touch was soothing, though I knew he was soul-ly responsible for the abomination before me. The moment after I tore my gaze away was when I noticed, his lips were untouched.

you know i will just get to that when i decide to pick it up again sweatdrop like i said i am not much of a writter.