mortistwo

Her drowsiness was driven away as a firm hand latched onto her upper arm tightly. Her strength seemed stifled and her limbs felt as though they were liquid. Fingertips dug deeply into the skin on her arm inside of her shirt and coat. The man jerked on her arm violently, and as her shoulder popped out of its place her legs locked. She tugged against him and lie on the ground, her muscles twitching and spazzing. Rippling waves of nausea tossed inside her stomach and she moaned. He pressed the heel of his boot into her spine and she rolled over reluctantly on her side. Tears pushed past her eyelids and skipped across her temple and to the dirt.
He leaned over and pressed his thumb into one of her eyes threateningly.
"The poor, helpless little girl is going to cry for help, eh?" he said in voice that reminded her of a jackass, "If you cry I'll scratch your eyes out." Her mouth dropped open, and she sucked in a huge breath. The man laughed into her face as she pressed the back of her head into the dry ground. As he was leaning back chuckling just as merrily as a mourner would, she swung her hands up and caught her fingernails in his left eye. He cursed and took hold of her neck, pressing his index finger and thumb into one of her main veins.
With his free hand he grabbed onto the pocket of her jeans and tugged furiously. The denim tore with a sickening rip. His hands slid into the vacant place where her pants were torn and fingered the rim of her panties. Catrina's muscles stiffened and she tried to raise her arms. To her wonderous surprise they stayed in their places, though they were free. His hands pushed under her undergarments and he kept moving. Quickly she thrashed her head from side to side, then lowered her head, her chin against her neck. Opening her mouth widely she slipped her bottom teeth under his fingers and bit down through the tip of his finger and into her lip. As she was shifting her neck around, she bit down on her inner shoulder deeply.
He reached up and held his finger for a moment, and swore against the pounding moonlight, "You wench!" Catrina let her head fall back and she lie there, waiting for him to go after her again. Unsurprisingly he did just that. His hands fumbled with the clothes she was wearing, ripping at the bottom of her shirt and pulling out the button to her jeans.
Hatred filled everything in her and mixed itself with her pumping adrenaline. She kicked her knee up and back as far as it could go and struck him in the small of his back. Her leg cracked heartily, as if to laugh at her. Catrina let it drop down again and her mouth trembled frightfully. Tears painted themselves in her eyes and she started sobbing loudly. She could hear him grunt and scream barely through each cry. The visions she saw became twirling, yet gloomy, colors.
He huffed lightly then stood up, rubbing his lower back carefully. He reached down and grabbed her hair and Cat winced while his fingers burried themselves in her open wound. He yanked her up and leaned down into her face. His breath seemed to stain her nostils with a stench of alcohol. As she felt herself being dragged up stairs, her back went numb. Silently she fainted and went unoticed.
Catrina's eyes groggily pryed themselves open, and to their horror, she realized that she hadn't been dreaming. Her head throbbed and she could still feel his touch adding more and more pressure to her injury as his fingers tried to dig themselves to her brain. Slowly she thought of death, and her mother. She knew if this beast of a man were to take her life away right now, she could see her mother. Well, if she went to heaven that is.
Heaven. Such a place to wonder and ponder on. It felt so warm and close to her. Her heart weakened, and her lungs felt thick and raspy. Yet, though she felt the dismay so near to her, her soul seemed to expand heartily within her. She remembered everyone always saying that your life flashed before you when you die. She didn't think of life, though. She could only concentrate on that warmth that heaved itself into her. Her ears were ringing and a light purring sound ripped into her.
Suddenly, the sounds of the man�s footsteps stopped harshly, and a terrifying silence soon followed. Her thoughts echoed into the corners of her mind. Catrina was tossed against the floor, and she found herself smashing her temple and the side of her skull against a wooden floorboard. The only thing she had that shielded her from breaking her skull open against the ground was her already crushed shoulder bone. She tensed her body for a moment then went into her own world, which lay between the worlds of pain and death.
Catrina�s spine felt as though it was twisted in a large knot. She groaned almost silently, for her throat was dry and the horrid noise that followed sounded as though it was a whisper through the tree�s in the valley of death. She contorted her limbs for a moment, then contained herself from being strained. The man laughed wickedly and, with his foot lashing out, he jabbed his heel into her side. Catrina rolled over onto her stomach and her nose smashed against the ground.
The young man bowed in a generally polite manner, though no politeness was visible to the naked eye. Another young man inside the room, though he was diffenately hidden by the tossing shadows, perched with pride in a large chair. The red velvet which cloaked iself over the furniture and his pillow, seemed rusted and broken. Fringe dangled lifelessly and reached down toward the floor.
"And what sort of whore have you put before me today?" he breathed furiously, "I told you never to bring one back here. What if someone comes looking for her, eh?"
Grunting, the burly man crossed his arms over his chest, "Then it's your problem. I brought her here, because I did what you asked me to. I killed off the family, and then she came bursting onto the scene. I tried to have a little fun with her, but she's a bitch. You can deal with her, I'm sure. You've killed many in your time, haven't you?"
The man sitting as though he were a perfect gentleman stood, his posture precise. Alicard�s redish-brown eyes flared out of hatred, yet his short body seemed nothing toward the large towering man. Smoothely he approached him, his foosteps disturbing Catrina's train of praises to the life that she thought would soon be over. He pressed his hand against the young man�s chest and his fingers curled onto their tips, digging slightly his muscles. Slowly he shifted his body weight heavily and moved his hand back. Thrusting his fist forward he slammed his hand against the lower-middle part of his rib cage.
The man�s eyes bulged out of his head and they gleemed with a eccentric child-like wonder, though his eyes held no sense of a child�s delight. Catrina tired to push herself up on her elbows, yet she could hardly feel her arms. His eyes formed glassy orbs and he tilted his head back. His jaw became loose and it flopped downward, and his tongue rolled out like a red carpet waiting for death to dance into his body.
Alicard punched his chest again and the young male fell over himself onto the floor on his back. His spine arched and his muscles performed vigorous spasms. The elegant, yet cruel man drew a small dagger from within his long, flowing coat. He flung his arm up into the air then brought the pointed blade down into his mouth. The dagger sunk into the back of his throat, and blood flooded through his wound. He spit his blood into Alicard�s pale face with his last breath and movement.
Growling with frustration he slapped the dying human�s cheek. Alicard pushed the corpse over onto his stomach and his face pressed against the floor. The tip of the blade poked through the back of his throat, tickling at his horrid delight in the action. He pushed his fingers through his hair leaving a small trail of red. Shaking his head, he pressed his face into his own palm.
�I hate you, Father,� he whispered almost silently. His words aroused Catrina�s thoughts and she pulled her fingers into a fist. She went into a limp stage once more and gasped in a breath, trying to make sure she could still breathe. Her lungs let out soft chops of air. His face rose and watched her body closely.
Cat coughed and the film in the back of her throat made a weird taste enter her mouth. Her elbows propped on the ground and pushed her upper body off of the floor. She let out a soft choke of pain and closed her eyes tightly. Her muscles bulged from within her skin and they reveiled themselves from inside of her pathetic appearance. Her veins carried her almost still blood through her body as she forced herself to move.
Finally, while pressing one hand down to support her weight she lifted her upper body up. Catrina felt her lower back�s strength weaken and she moaned softly. Alicard knelt against the floor near her and pushed her gently back against his knees. He barely touched her head and she twitched in pain, yet she did not dare cry nor shed a tear. A man, whom she knew without seeing the action, that brutally slew a man was now cradling her.
He let his aggressive expressions soften even more and she let her eyes open. Cat�s gray eyes blinked and she appeared almost helpless, yet she seemed as though she was physically capable. Alicard set her down against the hard, cold floor again and stood upright. He walked out of the room and Catrina was surrounded with a grasping silence. The quiet atmosphere dripped with a sense of dying comfort.
She closed her eyes and let out a soft breath, letting her weariness engulf her. Sleep swayed over the time and her body heaved with every tiring breath. She felt herself being lifted and it sent an uncomfortable feeling into her mind. She could vaguly remember the last time she was picked up that day, and she felt a sweeping fear cross over her.
As Catrina drifted in and out of drousiness, she finally felt the walking stop. She opened her eyes just before she ws carelessly dropped on a bed, it's materials becoming astray from her contact.
�Who are you?� he asked harshly as he sat down at the foot of the bed. The mattress sunk under his weight, though he himself seemed as though he only weighed as much as a feather. The dignity inside of Alicard�s elegance was extravigant and beautiful. The slight sound of his deep, soft voice could calm death and mezmerise it.
She parted her lips and her shoulders shivered for a moment, then went still.
�Why am I here?,� she managed to force out, and she felt ashamed of herself for sounding in so bad of condition. She didn't even know this man, and his appearance pleased her. Oh, Gods, he pleased her and he had just commited murder. She was helpless. He'd murder her too, for snapping at him and the only thing she could do while he killed her was let out a sound that cracked and wavered in pitch.
He smiled slightly and he reached down and patted her cheek softly. With an uncomfortable realization she shifted. There was blood on his fingers. There was blood caked under his fingernails. There was dry, human blood on his gentle, humble hands. He tried not to frown, for something about this woman made him feel important for the first time. Seeing her regaurd him in such a manner saddened him, and his lips fell into a sober frown. Inside of him his own soul flickered.
"Alicard, who are you? Are you going to lead a life after a God whom doesn't exist, or will you follow me as your God. Your light," his father had spoken to him once when he was younger, "You are not good, boy. You weren't born that way, and as long as I'm alive you will not be. You don't feel love; you feel lust. Do you know what lust is?"
He had shaken his head, since he had been a young boy at the age of merely five. With that his father had taken hold of his wrist, and held it tightly, his fingers bruising his skin.
"You've seen girls your age have you not? No? Ah, you are not allowed to be social, I remember. They are not formed, yet, though. So, that shouldn't concern you. But soon, women. They shall become devils with breasts and a luring sense of actions. You, though, you won't be lured, will you? Willingly, yes, but even when they have taken you, you will have taken them."
Alicard let himself smile wickedly, and he put his hand against her cheek. Alicard rubbed her cheek gently, and Catrina squirmed, turning her face from his hand. She wouldn't have him touch her. She didn't want him to.
�Forgive my horrible actions before, I am not normally violent,� he stated, though a hint of the devil played ontop of his words, "I am only violent when people need to be punished or they turn from me." He took her cheek and tilted her face back toward his.
�Forgive my intrudence, I did not come here by choice,� she said mockingly, "So what will you have of me?"
He chuckled deeply in his throat, squeezed her face, then let it fall free of his grasp, "You speak of me, as though I am going to kill you." She turned her face from him and groaned softly.
"What will you do with me now that I am intruding your life?"
"If you tell me your name I might spare your misery." She hissed inwardly and mumbled her name to him. She should have lied. She should have told him something false, yet she felt truth in him. She felt... comfortable.
She could feel him looking at her. Not just as her, but she felt his eyes warming the torn places on her clothing and the skin that was so decently exposed. Her face darted back to his, and she swallowed. She studdied each line around his mouth. Catrina let herself wonder about his lips. Their pillow like appearance. Oh, Gods, he pleased her. Catrina breathed uncomfortabley and looked him in his eyes.
Alicard�s eyes seemed to glow, and though they seemed brown they showed signs of yellow trails being led around his pupils. The devil danced inside her own pupil, though through the moment she hardly noticed. A flash of red rippled through the seas which circled the inside of his eyes. Catrina let herself drown in that minute and gave in entirely.
"Catrina," he said softly and looked away, as if to hide an unfortunate grin, "Where are you from?"
"Why does it matter?"
"It doesn't," he said slightly harsher than last time, "Where will you go, now?" Her eyes filled with fear slightly, and she hand't thought of it. Where was she? How could she go if she didn't know where she was going from?
"Where am I?" Catrina asked like a lost child. Her eyes played their parts fully, speaking for her.
"Why does it matter?" he toyed with her. She turned over on her other side so she wouldn't have to face him. Closing her eyes, she felt tears again. She was going to die, soon. She could see it in his eyes. Those yellow rivers flowed with something over the boundaries of evil.
"It doesn't," she said quietly, "I just want to go home." Oh, she'd never heard that come out of her before. This must be a dream. Yet, dreams often were comforting. This one was not.
"We'll discuss this later," he said and got up from his place on the bed. He walked over toward the door, looked over his shoulder for a sort moment, then continued out of the room. Catrina pressed her face into the cold cloth of the pillow and fell into bitter sobs and sleep.