Revenge

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Ashen and immaculate white petals fell to the ground, blotching the otherwise heavy and guilty sea of redness. A silver glint glimmered from the cast-aside blade some distance away. And the soft petals were stained too. Those petals, of a color lacking in intensity, blushed involuntarily. He tenderly caressed the remains of that single white rose. A flower that had looked innocent, but now, only flaunted damage.

A sardonic smirk lurked upon his lips, and his eyes glinted as always, like sapphire. He scattered those unattractive remnants upon the same pool of red, which shimmered delicately in the sensitive moonlight that glanced through the crystal windows. It was not self-indulgence – not an approach to rid the solid bitterness in his core.

He exhaled elatedly, relishing his sole appreciation of this embellishment. But he was not yet satisfied. It was not enough. It will never be.

His victim stirred ever so imperceptibly and he whirled around, a frosty expression set upon his sharp features. Panic did not arise in him yet. He thought that he was in control - this was his game. The painstakingly fabricated lies that he wanted to hurl angrily back at the other who had whispered them so soothingly.

A low, raw hiss reverberated around the dim room. Scathed by self-inflicted misery, revenge smoldered in his mind. “Don’t touch me.” He clenched his fists. The feline grace and elegance he exhibited a few moments ago had vanished into thin air.

The scorn and disdain in the other’s smirk made him stricken with blunt and scarcely concealed angst. “No. I’m not afraid of you. Just get away from me!” His voice carried more than terror, expressing more than just apprehension.

Again. The same relentless curl of those lips. Mocking him.

“Why wouldn’t you leave me alone?” Hatefully, he was near, approaching and teetering precariously on the edge of losing domination again.

“What do you fear?”

What did he fear?

Soundless screaming pulsated everywhere. The heat and uncertainty of the moment forced him to clutch his neck impulsively. Tightening his grip, he choked as he endlessly imposed pain upon himself. “It’s of no use.” The faintly murmured taunt made him halt.

And then his intense eyes brightened with an eerie glow. The other had faded away rapidly again. He stared blankly at the many gashes and cuts upon his body, and the dried blood clinging to the damp skin.

Stumbling towards the bathroom, he dared himself to look into the mirror. A pause. He exhaled his relief and grinned shakily, willing himself to believe that everything would be fine. But the mirror clouded, and he watched in revulsion as a familiar leer replaced the gutless smile of his reflection. “Don’t miss me too much.”

This time, he reached for arsenic.

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