A/N: Hi! I'm back. Sort of. This is something I wrote at school, just because. My friends said it was good. Yeah, I know, who cares? Anyways, enjoy!

He is beautiful when he cries. The bright red handprint on his cheek, outlined against his pale white face. The shocked look on his face, tears streaming. His beaten body backs away from me, whimpers escaping his bruised lips. I hold my arms out to him, my palm still red. He shakes his head, backing away further, eyes wide.

I reach out and grab him, clutching him against me, not letting go. I feel him relax a little, arms finally wrapping around my neck, his warm salty tears hitting my skin. I bury my face into his sweat-soaked hair, whispering sweet nothings to the trembling, sobbing boy in my lap.

He is asleep, my bruised and battered trophy of desire. Little sounds escape as he sleeps, twisting and turning. I slide off the bed and head for the living room.

Sobbing moans echo in the house, his screams making it shake. Blankets strewn on the floor, his sweat-covered body arching off the bed, my name being torn from his already raw throat. Small flecks of blood glisten on his lips as the light shines. His hands, bruised and bloody, claw at the sheets, droplets of blood covering them.

I stand in the doorway, watching, listening. I smile as I hear that the name being forced from his lips is mine. Having enough, I go towards him.

And the twisted carousel begins to spin once more.

A/N: Weird, huh? I know. My friends thought so too. Don't forget to review an have a nice day!