Heaven knows I’ve been bad. I’ve killed. I’ve watched blood drain from their eyes, men and women alike. The way the light in their eyes drain is almost more delicious than their flesh. Almost. I glance at the mirrors that line the club’s wall. My image distorts, and a grin skull flashes under the skin I’m wearing. A new face, a new life, a new way to kill. For a moment, my eyes gleam red, but they slide back into the brown-black my skin has. Light caramel skin gleams under the flashing lights, sweat already prickling the edges, though inside, its frigid.
I run my hand through black hair, watching it fall in heaps over my shoulder. My hand flashes, and nails as sharp as daggers show, before melting back into my hand. Someone glances, but their attention is turned back to dancing. The skin is rejecting me. It occasionally happens. It tries to push the demon out of its body. I shove back, and it quiets. I throw myself into the dancing crowd. Energy thrums through my body, and I can practically taste the sweat that gleams on their skin. Someone grabs my hips. Another gropes me. I push them away. Hips slam against mine, arms waving in the air. I can still remember when people actually danced, instead of jumping up and down or dry-humping each other. It was when people feared the true me, and I didn’t have to hide behind fake skin. They would send me offerings to my caves, and I’d gobble them up happily. Usually children, asking for a blessing for a good year.
Foolish. A flash of white makes me turn my head. A man moves through the crowd, flesh painted white, black circles wrapped around hazel-blue eyes. Long, black hair falls past his neck, and life just pours from his body. A guitar is thrown over his shoulder, pushing people away. Sweat pricks his skin, small drops giving him a shimmering look. A gothic type,my favourite. My breath catches in my throat, and I can already taste what his flesh tastes like. I follow him, he doesn’t notice me. It doesn’t matter, because he will be gone quicker than I can breath. His smell is thick, overlapping everyone else’s, and I can’t help but grin, viciously sharp teeth gleaming. He walks into a room, shutting the door behind him, and two security guards step forward the block my path.
When I reach his door, my feet crunch against stripped-bare bones. And yet, my thirst isn’t even close to being replenished. I fling open the door, and he turns in surprise. I tear the dress of me, sticking to my body, and his eyes gleam, then widen in horror as the whole skin comes off, from my fingers to my toes. He sees my real me. His mouth opens in a scream, but is cut lose by the gurgle of blood spraying from his mouth. Red droplets splatter across the wall, and he stands still for a moment, before his head tilts to the side and lands with a sickening thud on the floor, eyes glossy with death, mouth parted, streams of red bubbling at the corners.
His body crashes to the other side, blood spraying from the neck like a hose. Soon the room his full of the metallic smell, tainting the room. I leave bloody footprints and a skeleton behind. People scream when something is thrown off the stage.
The skull with a chunk of cranium missing and tinted with bright red blood.
~
For Allison Morales~
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Credits to: insanemurder.tumblr.com
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