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Victory by HarrietHopkirk
Chapter 1 : I sense you.
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 17

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I briefly wonder where you are.

I taste victory on the winds. I sense you.

Our first meeting haunts my memory, like some obstinate ghost. It claws its way into my brain, snarling and biting, until I am forced to relive it - to relive you.

You were younger then. Not as cold, not as manipulative. You pulled me into the safety of your imagination with your light, your dancing, your so wonderfully free spirit. I was jealous of you. I hated you then, for a moment, before you smiled at me. I hated you because I would never have that. I would never have the parents or the family or the love that was bestowed upon you in great showers. I would be alone if hadnít been for you.

Sometimes I wish I had never met you.

My life has changed to fit you in it. My entire being has been crushed and altered, simply so you could have room to enter my existence and swirl and dance around in the mess that you have created.

Of course I know where you are... I know where youíve been.

I know the hidden cave in which we shared our first kiss. I remember the way the shadows fluttered around your face, and how I was stunned by the beauty of you, and of your allure. I remember the way the cold water crept up my ankles, the way your cold hands crept over my skin, and the way your cold lips caressed mine in a manner that should have been warm, should have made my numb toes tingle with the anticipation of you.

The dark, star-ridden night had washed over us. It had bathed us in its comforting warmth, its comforting privacy, until the harsh light of morning revealed us and opened us up for all to see.

Of course, in the light, you were in your element. I was at my weakest.

I know where youíre going. I know where you are now.

The clouds are rolling dangerously overhead, revealing the bright white light of something that shines nearly as much as you do. Whereas the stars comfort me, their companion destroys me, changes me. It changes me almost as much as you did, my poppet, my doll. It turns me into something that hates you almost as much I do.

I walk out of the house, the path winding in front of me. Walking seems difficult now, seems harder, but I can feel your pull and I push towards it, like I always do. Your coldness soothes me, eases the pain caused by the heat that tears through my body like wildfire. Your light and your brilliance still eludes me, but I am drawn to it. I am attracted to you. I want you.

I call out to the darkness. Itís a low, mournful sound, but I am not crying.

I dodge and dive to avoid its light, to keep away from the rays hitting the rooftops and the windows of the sleeping houses. I keep to the shadows. I keep to the darkness. I cling to it, and it clings back, protecting me.

I begin to run. Great, lengthy strides, and my feet hit the ground with satisfying thuds. I can see people pulling aside their curtains, their small eyes squinting at me as I move through the deathly quiet streets. It seems the only sound is my footsteps, and the screams of my muscles. No one dares whisper.

I inhale deeply, the cold wind stinging my throat.

I remember you stepping off a scarlet train, bag in hand, hair whipping around your face in the steam and bustle of the platform. You smiled at me, your lips taught and tempting and the colour of blood. My fist clenched at the sight of you, but I still walked towards you, I still fell into your arms. I still wanted you.

Your lips were fatal, your caresses were venomous, and yet I continued to return to you, desperate to be spared a fleeting glance in my direction.

A cat darts out from behind a tree and I panic. My feet slip on the already damp ground, the rain - now falling heavily, painfully, trickling into my senses - confuses me, rendering me sightless. I trip. I fall. The ground swoops up beneath me and catches me achingly. The concrete embraces me and I am left, stranded and abandoned, in the open. In its path.

For a moment, I am in pain. I revel in the fact that it is not caused by you.

For a moment, I wonder where you are.

It emerges. The clouds are suddenly disappearing and the moonís brilliant white light is spilling over the houses and over me. The light that fuels my life, my dark side. I cringe at its beauty. How could something so beautiful cause so much terrifying agony?

For a moment, before it happens, I liken its radiance to your hair, to your smile. I remember your face, your lips and your soft, pale neck. Brilliantly white, shining, holy. Pure. You said youíd stay pure for me.

That was a little white lie.

That's when it happens. I fidget uncomfortably and I feel my skin tighten. My breath is quick, ragged and disgustingly human. I can hear my heart beat ferociously against my chest. Itís always the same, this pain, but it is nothing compared to what you have done to me.

The people watching me look away: delve back into the safety of their homes, to the warmth, to the cosy and snug interiors of their rooms. I am left alone in the street, like the dog I am, snarling and biting at the memory of you.

My nostrils twitch as I search the street, my eyes creeping out into the moonlit night. I am still the same, if I someone was to see me. I am not like my father. My motherís blood diluted it somewhat, so that the pain is less excruciating, so that I am less dangerous, so that I still look like myself. I am still a dog, snarling, panting, biting. I simply look human. I can blend in. I can surprise you.

I remember a time when you took me for a walk. You patted me on the head and said everything would be alright.

I was your pet.

You will look like me too, soon, I hope. You will be beautiful.

I still have all my body, my arms and my legs. I flex them experimentally, my muscles screaming in protest. Veins are protruding ominously on the backs of my hands, vividly blue against my drained, unhealthy skin.

They remind me of the sea, and of the summers spent in your arms.

I call out to the darkness. Itís a low, mournful sound, but I am not crying.

I am running.

I taste victory on the winds. I sense you.

Did you think I was going to let you get away? Escape? No... you're much too clever for that... Why not try to face me head on? My doll, my poppet. We are one and the same, after all. Two pieces of the same bloody puzzle. Alone and together. Unified forever. I know this, no matter how far I may try to run from it. Sometimes, I feel like I'm no better than you.

I know where you are.

And I am coming.

Edited and sorted out by Stef from biggerandbeta! Seriously, check them out. Hope you enjoyed it... I thought this story needed a little revamping, so here it is (hoping it'll help my muse get onto WIPs instead of editing old stuff :S).

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