A/N: Ok so, I am completely rewriting this as of 11/05/13, and this is the amount I have edited so far. That is the reason this chapter ends so abruptly. I just didn't want anyone else to read the mediocrity I had written and decided to undergo some extreme editing.

The pale light of the full moon seemed to flood the room, it illuminated everything, and for a minute it seemed that there was nothing that could hide under its watchful gaze. It was a spotlight, and it was his, just as tonight would be his night. He waited for this hour for what seemed like too long now. His cold, piercing blue eyes darted around his familiar surroundings, daring someone to break the solitude he had encompassed himself in. He waited, almost in anticipation; anticipation of what was to come. He knew what he had to do. His eyes finally came to a halt as they found what they had been searching for.

His muscles tensed up and he tried to focus on his now shallow breaths. It was during this time that he often let his ambitions soar, and in the meanwhile he would lose sight of the constraint he needed to possess in order for everything to come out clean and proper. Oh, how the thought of making a mess made him shiver. He could feel her breaths crawling down his back now, hoarse and uneven. His throat tightened up and he struggled to swallow as his feet lurched forward, carrying him to his inevitable duty. Right foot, left foot, and right foot again, the slight taps his feet made echoed loudly as the sound bounced off the walls. He couldn't control the movement even if wanted to, and there was only the slightest doubt in his mind now that he didn't want to.

The constant ticking of the clock buzzed in his ears. Time was running out. He needed to complete the ritual, and he needed to do it now. It was times like these which he detested; he had made a vow once to spend time with them, to cherish the last few minutes he had with them, and under these restraints were when his shortcomings presented themselves. He reached the bed and the slow beats of his heart turned to fast deadly thuds that slammed against his chest.

There she was.

The cold distant exterior of his melted away, as the dark, decrepit depths of his eyes in which so many others had lost themselves in, glimmered with the passion of a million embers. They revealed so much in that one moment: longing, raw desire, there was anger and hatred but there was also love; so much that even now, in his moments of ultimate power and control, he couldn't deny it. And for this, he hated himself. He hated himself because even if he knew they would all leave him eventually, and that what he was doing was merely a favor for both them and his sanity, or what was left of it anyways, he couldn't help but feel the gaping void they left behind. He hated what he'd become in their midst, or lack of, anyways. He hated the animal he was.

His eyes stung now, as droplets formed in the corners of them. They were hers; he would not cry: not for anything or anyone. But these tears, this form of human expression, they were not his; he was merely a messenger delivering someone else's message. Nevertheless, this alien form of expression hurt him. He could not understand the message that was being passed on to him, but it was lonely, and even with the possibility of her return, so was he, and so he quietly let it be heard.