|
I roam the streets again tonight. My shoes hardly make a sound on the pavement but the streets are teeming with people and it does not matter. I am alone. I've given up on picking minions off the street because they all drift away sooner or later; they all end up the same. Angry, resentful creatureswho hate the sight of me. Maybe I am destined to remain alone. Nowhere have Ifound one that truly understands me. One that I can be honest with, to unload my heart. One that I can love, without being judged. I wish to find someone who would love the cherubic monster that I am, without wanting something in return. One who would not be frightened by the predator in me. I do not need someone to feel sorry for me, nor do I want to be used. I want to be accepted for who I am and not what I look like. And I don't need to be hurt again. But maybe it is not meant to be. I move through the throngs of people on the street. New Orleans at its busiest has a certain flair, a certain feeling. No one cares about my youthful appearance. A teenage girl drunk on absinthe bumps into me and kisses me on the cheek. "Come home with me, my angel." she slurs, as she runs her hand through myauburn hair. "My sweet..." Her lips are pink and lush and she is almost irresistible to me. I wonder what absinthe-tainted blood tastes like. But I am not going to kill tonight. I am not going to kill a young girl who has her whole life in front of her. Just a taste... I wrap my arm around her waist and kiss her neck. Her head tilts back and I can see her blond hair hang like a waterfall. As I take her blood, as I compress all her thought, dreams, life into one image, one colour, one pastel pink haze, my mind and my body are melded into one great longing for this. This syrupy red life that fills me and makes me happy. It's been so long, so long since I... And as I pull my mouth away and make sure I don't spill a drop, I know I've gone too far. She slumps onto my shoulder; her breath is the faintest whisper. "You *are* an angel, aren't you?" she murmurs. This is not supposed to happen. I'm not supposed to care about my victims, accidents or not. And with a breath, I plunge into her again, losing myself in the crimson oblivion. And as she dies, as I tell myself I don't care, her fingers slip through my hair and hangs slack. I don't care. I've done this a million times over. I've never cared before. I *am* Gentleman Death. "Is your girlfriend all right?" The husky voice startles me. Something I haven't felt for a long time. I turn my head to see a man in a leather jacket. "You seem to have done her quite well. Not a scar anywhere on her body. Did you poison her?" This is not right. I can handle this. There's nothing a little telepathic razzle dazzle can't fix. But as I look into his eyes to *tell* him that everything is all right, he takes the girl out of my arms and slings her over his shoulder. This is wrong. His green eyes sparkleas he grins at me. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone. I may need you someday." I open my mouth to protest but he cuts in before me. "The name's Krycek. You and I shall understand one another. Eventually." The crowd closes in on him as he leaves. What's the matter with me? I *cannot* be drunk on absinthe. End Part 1 |
Innocence And Deception
|