Bruises decorated her neck; circling it, faint mauve, pink. Fresh. His throat tightened at the sight of her, and he leaned over, cradling her to him, wrapping his arms around her body. He began to cry into her neck, burying his face into her hair.

Jared lifted his head, tear-filled green eyes gazing helplessly around Freedom Court. The sun had risen, fending off the darkness and giving birth to a new morning of striking red rays bouncing off the Freedom Corps and the stone statues of hero worship around it, but none of this mattered. The Hive-Mind was no hero. He knew he had been too late. He felt them pass by all around him, their early-morning ponderings free to him, as usual their unknowing of the evils awaiting them, the Hellions and Skulls, the Vahzilok and The Clockwork. But none of this mattered. He knew he had been too late. Kayla had died in his arms, in her own apartment, her skin paling away, her once-beautiful blue eyes suddenly milky white, as blood� thick and red� free flowing� poured from her eyes like crimson tears. He had been too late.

He wept openly, a grown-man without pride now that he had failed on the one person who mattered to him. Tears sprinkled onto the concrete block he sat now, the same concrete block on which he had shared so many words with her. Final words to him, for he would never be able to enjoy that privilege again; she was gone and it was his fault. His fault! He knew he had been too late. So lost within grief was Jared that being in plain clothes and without his mask did not matter to him now, of course it didn�t, nothing mattered. Her words kept repeating over and over in his head like a broken record� �You don�t understand! You never would; he was everything to me. EVERYTHING! And now he�s gone; you have no idea what that feels like.� He knew now� he had every idea. She was everything to him, even in the short time she had been in his life, unknowingly putting a perspective on the life that had been shattered and lost for so long. She had returned to him his name.

The tears caught in his throat but he did not swallow them down, allowing them to block his windpipe, to choke him and consume him. There was no use running or hiding from the agony that twisted in the pit of his stomach, the haunting feeling that made him want to be sick; the image of her lifeless form would not leave his mind. The old woman had prophesized correctly; he had made everything worse. Everything. It was his fault, he had distracted her for his own greed, and his own hunger� and he had been unable to save her when it mattered most.

It took Jared a moment to realize the fingers gripping his shoulder, fingernails uncut and sinking gently into his skin. When he became aware of the grip he coughed back the blockage in his throat, blinked tears from his eyes and turned slowly to gaze over his shoulder. Ice blue eyes, without the blood shot streaks, clear. With a whimper he turned back, taking a deep breath and murmuring softly. Her eyes. The fingers still gripped him, and he tried to ignore. A moment passed and he looked back, his eyes landing on the crimson mask, it had concealed for so long all he wanted and that longing had been what ended her. He turned back, swallowing down a new wave of sobs that he could feel erupting in the pit of his throat. The fingers did not release. �Jared?� His name. The name she had told him. How long would she torment him, the voice, muffled behind cloth? To his side her saw the boot step down, black leather and with straps from top to bottom.

�No!� She was gone; dead in his arms, by his hands. He heard her voice, whispering almost, on his ear, and he shuddered away from it. I�m so sorry. You have to go. The voice echoed around his head. You can�t. Stop� please.

He leapt up from the spot, diving over the side of the concrete block and dashing away. Away. Anywhere but here, with her haunting him. His bleached hair falling over bleary eyes, Jared moved away, taking the first back-alley he found.

Kayla watched him leave so abruptly, a frown playing her lips beneath the crimson mask that concealed them; it was unusual of him to not want to talk; the night�s events must have hit him harder than she thought.

Jared found himself frozen to the spot the moment he left her sight, unable to take another step �lest it be his last. The air was cold, chilling him to the bone and making his pale skin break out in goose bumps. Somewhere in the distance church bells chimed six times, but the sound fell on deaf ears. Two Hellions saw their prey stood frozen in the back alley, and moved in for the kill, sadistic grins marking their lips. Their luck was out though this morning, and within several feet of the tearful man they felt their minds ripped to shreds, plagued and torn by images of a fallen girl, blood seeping from every gap in her body. Two lives ended.

A hand took his and he closed his eyes, letting the liquid of his sorrows fall freely down his face. Pale fingers wrapped around his hand, guiding him forwards, and he followed, unaware of everything but her image, dying� �When I killed him � I killed a part of me. I KILLED HIM!!�

Her whimpers reached his mind as loud as if she were shouting his name, screaming for him, his assistance, and his aid. �Jared! Jared! Don�t you dare die on me!� He wanted to tell her there and then that he was not going to die; he wanted to tell her to hold on, to wait for him. She would not have long to wait; he would be there for her in this time of need. Enough time to throw on a shirt and yesterday�s pants; though even the mask lay untouched.

The door swung open and he met her eyes, a look of shock painted on her beautiful face. She lacked her mask; he saw her unique markings. So different. �Jared?� Her mouth fell open. He rushed past her, no time for explanations. What was wrong? The room seemed so empty now. �What are you doing here? It�s four in the morning, Jared.�

He looked to the clock, small green blinking numbers on the VCR. 06:00. He turned back to her, his breathing picking up, his eyes landing on her in time to see her body hitting the floor, the front of her robe falling open, the kitchen knife protruding from her chest. He let out a gasp, the tears springing to his eyes, and rushed forward, his heart pounding in his chest as hers had stopped in hers. The almost see-through chemise she wore now began to stain red, the crimson liquid flowing from her blood-shot eyeballs and the corners of her mouth, matting the fabric to her curved body. Not again� not this time. Hastily his emerald-like eyes scanned the room. The capsules. The capsules, where were they!? Knowing he had mere seconds, Jared rushed to the coffee table, shoving it over, ignoring the sounds of shattering glass and the childish laughter somewhere in the background. He pulled up the cushions of the sofa; the capsules, where were they!?

Forgetting the lost cause, hopeless, useless, he hurried back to her limp form on the carpet, bleeding without intention to stop until her body was drained, small whimpers and whines escaping her dry, clogged throat. He tugged the kitchen knife from her gut hurriedly, tossing it aside. Damn it. Even his large palms could not cover the wound to stop the bleeding, and no amount of hands could bring back the blue to her eyes as milky clouds shifted in front of them. �Kayla�� Not again. He had been too late.

Suddenly, her lips captured his, her entire body arching off the bed, and he moaned out against her. What was she doing? He couldn�t let her do this� he couldn�t let her seal her fate, but he wanted her� he needed her� just one taste. One fatal taste. He felt the warmth of her blood as it clung to his chest, her body pressed down under him on her bed, the thin white bed sheets wrapped around her slender legs, the scarlet curtains blowing absently in the breeze. Even as her tongue stroked along his, her lips possessing his bottom lip, suckling on the soft skin, he felt her fists colliding with the side of his head. He wanted to release her; she wanted freedom. But he couldn�t; he wouldn�t. His lips would not leave hers. Tears flowed freely from his eyes, matting themselves to her lifeless cheeks and she fell still beneath him, pallid eyes glaring into his, white, without pupils. Jared? You�ve just only made things worse. Heed thy warning. I killed a part of me.

Two bodies fell dead before their intended victim in the back alley of Freedom Court, their last images of a dying woman, her auburn hair and pale skin crimson-matted, the life-giving cruor spilling from her tear-ducts, from her mouth and chest. And before the limp and never-moving bodies of the Hellions there lay another, a middle-aged man with bleached hair, free and unkempt, his eyelids closed over heavy eyes rimmed by dark skin, tears flowing freely like a leak from his closed eyes.