Dedicated to my dark knight, for every smile he brought to my lips.
Running. I could feel my heart race; my eyes I knew had turned red. Fear, sickly sweet smell hitting my nose. I could almost taste it. Though the taste of his scarlet liquid would be like a matured wine. Dark, heavy and thick. They say the soul burns it’s brightest just before death. I am the hunter and the prey. While this pathetic human is but a beast for the slaughter.
It has been twenty years. A long twenty years, since the Darkside Institution had closed. The world has changed and now their world had too. The cold mansion, with its wrought iron gates, the long deserted wings, with its hollow rooms, remained as they had when the building had been closed as a mental institution. Its dark peeling walls with its dust crusted wall paper. Every step on the threadbare carpets, coughed up dust clouds. The sweet stench of mould and decay filled each room. The spider web like cracks spiralling along the faded paint. Each sound like the shattering of glass against the roar of the silence. The paintings of those long since passed, look like cracked porcelain; the eyes forever watching, forever accusing stare at the wanderer from the walls. The woman’s footsteps echo off the walls as they seem to crush her heart, bringing company to the aching loneliness that fills it.
The mirror like windows showing the passing night, like a burrow of tunnels in the mansion reflect her image. Even if they no longer reflect the soul. Her skin flawless like white china that has never been touched by the sun. The woman’s lips a perfect cupid’s bow, the colour of soft pink roses. While her long red hair, almost glows even with no light, shining like precious rubies, intricately braided down her lean but powerful back. The woman’s broad shoulders and tapered waist, brought out by her leather trousers clinging to her muscular legs. The soft black t-shirt curving around her torso showing her feminine curves to their advantage. The calf hugging black boots softly expelling dust from the carpet as walks through the hall of mirrors. No mirror could hide what she wished to forget. Those black eyes. Holes of endless time jutting out of her face. Never forgiving, forever cold.
A masculine tone rumbles through the corridor’s emptiness; “Megara? Megara come out of hiding!”
The woman sighed, as she walked down the creaking staircase, each step like a moan of pain.
The entrance hall showed disrepair, the walls cracked with age, the ceiling high with its chandelier missing its crystal droplets. The dust and debris on the floor showing the trails of its mistress had taken. The high arched windows covered with heavy blood red velvet drapes, the colour faded with age.
“Why are you here Icarus?” Megara’s voice was rich and heavily accented showing her age, those hollow eyes full of disdain.
Icarus stared up at Megara, who was standing halfway on the staircase, his almost white blue eyes meeting that endless darkness. His hair falling in careless waves into his eyes of electric blue of a husky but beautifully contrasting with the colour of dark chocolate. His height may have dwarfed Megara as did his breadth. The white shirt pressed and flawless whilst his black jeans with his large sliver plated biker boots hugging his calves. The small smile that curved his lips made his eyes shine.
“Megara, why aren’t you a sight for old eyes;” the man’s eyes were hiding his intent and emotion.
“I’ll only ask once more Icarus. Why are you here?” Megara voice stern and forceful, her eyes never wavering from his piercing gaze.
Icarus just continued to smile from the doorway, letting the cool night air in. “Come on Megara, what happened to the warm hospitality?”
“You know what happened,” her grip on the railing intensified. The screeching of the wood under her hand slowly got louder till a loud crack shattered the silence, turning the wood into splinters. Icarus flinched, knowing that the woman in front of him was not the same one he remembered. She slowly raised her hand to slowly tug the small pieces from her white sheet like skin. Her voice eerily calm and steady as she spoke, “Speak or leave.”
The male stood his ground as he tried not to wince at what he saw. “Megara. There has been a sighting,” Icarus’ voice was no louder than a whisper, but the words echoed.
Megara’s fists clenched tight as she gritted her teeth as though she was in great pain, “Where?”
“Megara…please, let me help. You can’t forever be alone,” Icarus’ voice imploring at her to reconsider.
The pale woman pivoted and walked back from whence she came up the staircase, each step sounding like the beat of a heart. Her mind reeling from the man’s words, making her emotions boil under the surface of her skin. Icarus followed unsure what to do, as he had only seen her like this once before, making Megara’s next move unpredictable.
She was nearly running now, as her mind threw images that were best forgotten. Megara’s body was visibly trembling as the memories became clearer with each step. The male following was now shouting at her back, but as she retreated she could no longer hear his voice. Her ears were full of screams that made her heart bleed.
Faces flashed past, each smile turning into that of horror. She crashed to her knees panting hard. Her fists clenched in front of her, those black eyes now shut.
Icarus approached the kneeling woman with the lightest of footsteps. Slowly and gently placing his hand on her shoulder.
Her teeth deadly as beautiful as they crunched into Icarus’ flesh as he simply winced. Megara’s eyes the colour of blood, drenched in pain and unending sorrow.
The carpet beneath them speckled with bright droplets against the dust. Icarus remained still his eyes calm but reflecting her pain. Slowly her eyes faded back to their darkness, before her teeth retracted. His hand marked with a perfectly with an imprint of her teeth. The woman’s pink tongue slowly licking her lips clean, her eyes shut.