Broken Hearts Can't Be Fixed? (Frerard)
Chapter Two- Hemophilia
“Please! I’ll do anything! Anything!” His body shook with sobs as the stranger reached his palm down upon his head.
He jerked just out of his touch, shuffling back across the floor in a desperate attempt. His dress shirt ruffled, buttons missing, hair flipped in varying directions. It was almost funny. How they were all the same. Every single one of them had the same look on their face, the same terror in their eyes. Their pupils becoming so dilated, so massive that the man could see it’s prize just a breath away. He had slowly backed him into a corner in the unlit apartment. The soft grey pulsing of light in his enlarged globes was so tempting, the stranger hadn’t consumed such a rare color in eons. He stood at his feet, towering over him. The stranger had a bored look on his face, but nonetheless, he was calculating every moment. Every millisecond, since the stranger had met Richard Thorn, as though he could see the very hands of time ticking away. No doubt, that he could. He could see the thread being pulled tight, rising to the great crescendo that was the moment nearing.
“Please! Is it gold you want? Money? Women? I could get them for you! Please, just give me more time!” Richard cried out.
The stranger let out a breathy, humorless chuckle and leaned down until he was almost nose-to-nose with his newest interest. He lifted his prey’s chin up, pointedly starring into his eyes. “I don’t want your gold, I don’t need your money or your women. In fact…Nothing can satisfy me… Except…” The stranger saw the desperate flash of hope in Richard’s eyes.
“E-Except what?!” His breathing was ragged, sweat was trickling from every orifice in his body. This was his chance, he could get out of this!
The stranger curled his fingers into the man’s soft brown hair. Intently focused, he took in a slow, calm breath. “Except…your soul.” With a single motion, his hands slashed into his veins, letting blood flow. This was the only part of his endeavors that he coveted. The Reaping was his favorite, he got to take his time with it. Devour the blood and drink up his luminous soul. Losing his mind in the satisfaction that he received. Oh yes, it felt good to have the warm, slippery blood that nourished and maintained his flesh and kept it a nice, porcelain white. It made him whole again, made him stronger. Though in truth, he didn’t have a need for the actual blood itself. He was in it for the guts and the blood, and the gory mess that the police had to clean up. He dropped the empty shell almost immediately after it’s owner’s soul was felt wriggling upon his tongue, passing by the rows of needle points that were his teeth. He thoughtlessly drew his latest tormenting love note next to the body……..
“Life is but a dream…”
He jerked just out of his touch, shuffling back across the floor in a desperate attempt. His dress shirt ruffled, buttons missing, hair flipped in varying directions. It was almost funny. How they were all the same. Every single one of them had the same look on their face, the same terror in their eyes. Their pupils becoming so dilated, so massive that the man could see it’s prize just a breath away. He had slowly backed him into a corner in the unlit apartment. The soft grey pulsing of light in his enlarged globes was so tempting, the stranger hadn’t consumed such a rare color in eons. He stood at his feet, towering over him. The stranger had a bored look on his face, but nonetheless, he was calculating every moment. Every millisecond, since the stranger had met Richard Thorn, as though he could see the very hands of time ticking away. No doubt, that he could. He could see the thread being pulled tight, rising to the great crescendo that was the moment nearing.
“Please! Is it gold you want? Money? Women? I could get them for you! Please, just give me more time!” Richard cried out.
The stranger let out a breathy, humorless chuckle and leaned down until he was almost nose-to-nose with his newest interest. He lifted his prey’s chin up, pointedly starring into his eyes. “I don’t want your gold, I don’t need your money or your women. In fact…Nothing can satisfy me… Except…” The stranger saw the desperate flash of hope in Richard’s eyes.
“E-Except what?!” His breathing was ragged, sweat was trickling from every orifice in his body. This was his chance, he could get out of this!
The stranger curled his fingers into the man’s soft brown hair. Intently focused, he took in a slow, calm breath. “Except…your soul.” With a single motion, his hands slashed into his veins, letting blood flow. This was the only part of his endeavors that he coveted. The Reaping was his favorite, he got to take his time with it. Devour the blood and drink up his luminous soul. Losing his mind in the satisfaction that he received. Oh yes, it felt good to have the warm, slippery blood that nourished and maintained his flesh and kept it a nice, porcelain white. It made him whole again, made him stronger. Though in truth, he didn’t have a need for the actual blood itself. He was in it for the guts and the blood, and the gory mess that the police had to clean up. He dropped the empty shell almost immediately after it’s owner’s soul was felt wriggling upon his tongue, passing by the rows of needle points that were his teeth. He thoughtlessly drew his latest tormenting love note next to the body……..
“Life is but a dream…”
Notes
Oh yes, I'm back. With something sorta short, but nice. I have not been really getting feedback on any of my stories recently, and that is a bit discouraging, so please make an effort to tell me what you think in the comments.
Comments & Subscriptions are very much appreciated.
Also, I may be moving to wattpad.com, so I will let you know about that later if you are interested.
@Just Ghosts
No problem! Like I've said before, you produce some of my most-anticipated novels on here. :)
10/13/14