Raison d'etre (Part 1)
Part 2
When she had woken up that fateful morning she couldn't have anticipated that she would find herself in her current situation. Granted, she had spend years fearing the possibility of it but around a year ago she had been able to come to accept it. It was a part of her past now. An ugly abomination she wouldn't wish upon anyone but a part nevertheless.
She had accepted the fact that she could either spend her life in fear or come to terms with her past, the trauma and the fear and move on with the knowledge that whatever freedom she had obtained that day through the high price of a live was most probably short lived. In the end she had probably even been lucky. After all it had been five years. Two of which she had been able to actively use for a much needed healing process and to build mechanisms for when the inevitable would be bound to happen again.
Still. She hadn't been prepared for the fear that shot up her legs, chaining her arms heavy to the coffee table and clouding her head when he had appeared out of thin air like he always had. The few minutes that he had stood with his back to her, a distance of about ten meters, she had hoped. Hoped to all that might be up in the heavens that he wouldn't turn around. That he wouldn't smell her like the bloodhound she knew he was. She had successfully deluded herself into thinking that as long as the wind coming through the open window a few chairs in front of her wouldn't blow her way he would just go about his day and their eyes would never even have to cross ever again. The most preferred outcome for her.
The most preferred outcome for her however had never been on their minds. It had always been their pleasure, their needs that needed to be met and her torture that had been the means for it, as many other girls before and after her.
She had known that she had been considerably 'lucky'. She was a survivor. Always had been and maybe life had tried to somehow prepare her for the hardships of that year by toughening her up well before hand. On some late nights she had considered, that maybe she had been the first and probably last mistake they had ever made. She hadn't been the innocent girl send from the church.
All those ruminations didn't help her though, when he finally turned around. His eyes were hidden underneath the fedora that would look like utter crap on any other man but she could see his smile. His grin. His smirk.
Without seeing his eyes one could conclude that he was delighted. Like a child getting his hands on his lost but dearly loved toy after having misplaces it for several months.
But she long since didn't need his eyes anymore to get the lightest understanding of his mood. And that kind of smile had always spelled painful trouble. Maybe the chocolate cake in front of her would really be her last meal. If that were the case she would have to make sure to savour it.
Maybe she was even fortuitous in the brother she had to meet again. Any other and she would either be back in that black limousine or dead in her chair. But this one? This one liked to play. And it was a game she had at least started to grasp.
“Now if that isn't a surprise.” His voice was deep when he sat down in front of her, the tea cup filled with coffee set down with slightly more force than necessary.
It was the moment she realised that she had been right with her assessment. He in fact had not been delighted. No. He was feeling much more suppressed, too forced. He was furious. Absolutely and utterly furious.
“Well,” she started, the tremor in her voice well hidden as she picked up her fork, slowly and carefully to take the first bite of her cake, “can't say that it's a welcome one.”
Her therapist told her that sadists got off on fear. If they didn't get that she would be one step closer to loose their interests. That in mind, the young woman peremptorily fixed her eyes on his. If she were to go out, she would at least go out with style.
The vampire took a sip of his coffee in turn, one brow raised at her surely futile attempt at bravery. The chuckle coming from him made her blood run cold. She had been aware that her fingers had been shivering slightly. A downside that was to be expected. But it seemed like she only now realized the cold seeping out of them. Or maybe it was just his presence?
“It seems like you got your spark back a bit. It'll be fun to break you in again.” This time his voice was back to it's usual melodic sound. It seemed like he had gotten a grasp on his emotions. She knew not to lean onto that calm too much. He was much like his siblings in that matter. It could change in an instant at neck breaking speed.
“Maybe it never left.” She decided to answer. She didn't need to enrage him further. Making him lash out at her even more than he would anyways was not a smart plan.
“If that's the case I'm angry that you were holding out on us that last month, little Spitfire. Oh but what a picture it was.” His delighted moan nearly made her leave. The knee jerk reaction of running away only staved off by the nearly hurtful grip of her left hand on the table.
“Oh,” this time the breathy sigh was accompanied by a laugh, “that look in your eyes. Like a deer in headlights. Similar to the way you are gripping the table right now to keep from running away like the little bunny you are. Tell me, little Spitfire. Are you scared yet?”
Only with great concentration had she been able to make her fingers let go of the table that made him keep his distance. One by one, until all five fingers of her hand were hanging uselessly in the air and her right hand was able to pick up the fork once more. She maybe had six more bites left.
“I'm not scared of you.” She told him plainly after she had finished chewing.
He in turn took another sip from his coffee and putting it down too close for comfort. So close in fact that she could spy into the cup without a problem. The message clear. She only had time to finish her food until he was done with his coffee. Maybe the chocolate cake would be her first instalment of a boundary then.
The silence that had started growing after her declaration started to take a biting turn. He did have a some kind of fucked up talent for that. They all did. Silence had always been a bad thing. Once she had thought it opened up the possibility of thought. The opportunity to scheme. Now that she was older she understood that the silence had never been for the brothers. They had always known the exact way their games would go. Had always understood what their prey would and could do. Where they would hide. No. The silence had never been for them.
The silence had always been for the prey. The silence had always been for the girls. To make room for doubt, for rumination, for fear and most importantly for the hope that they wanted to squash so desperately.
And so she remained silent as well. She wouldn't let herself be goaded into speaking first as if she wanted to hold that conversation. Instead she simply took another bite of the sweet delicacy.
The man's eyes seemed to glow at that. It was never a good sign.
“It's cute, little Spitfire. They way you are desperately trying to hang on to that thread of played superiority. What. Is that something that therapist of yours taught you? That if you don't admit to being scared it would make us loose interest? I can hear your heart pounding in your chest. It's going so fast it nearly makes me feel worried. I can't have you faint before the main dish, now can I?”
Of course he knew about her therapist. When had the times that she had felt watched in the last years actually been paranoia? Had he always been around? Lurking in the shadows just waiting for the right moment to strike?
Had that just been a new game of his? To make his reward even better?
Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?
“I'm not afraid though,” she explained calmly after another bite, “I'm afraid of the memory of you. But right now? Let me tell you something for once. You cannot hurt me in a way that matters any more. Because I'm not scared anymore. In fact, I pity you.”
Three bites left.
He wholeheartedly laughed at that. It was grating on her ears. Too sharp. Too shrill
“You are an absolute pleasure. It will be fun to have you around again. You know in the last months, Yuki and you just turned so stale. No bite or fight left in either of you. It was starting to get really boring. If it hadn't been for that beautiful escape I think I would have done the honours myself. It was honestly starting to become a pain.”
She had to unclench her jaw at that. She wasn't allowed to show him this much.
But that had just been cruel.
He shrugged, taking a big sip from his coffee. He was getting fed up with their conversation, she wagered.
“Well, I guess, Ayato was faster than me, this time.” He explained nonchalantly.
This time she couldn't keep from reacting. The sight was still too gruesome. Too alive in her memories. “Always had to be the first one. Didn't he?” She instead answered sarcastically. A deep disgust in her voice.
This time it was definitive delight in his eyes from obtaining such a raw reaction. “Yuki got a very special place in Kanato's cabinet you know,” he started after calming down, “maybe you'll be able to visit.”
The thought nearly made her tear up. The last thing she remembered of the soft spoken girl had been her ripped open chest. It had been a quick death she supposed. Maybe even the slightest mercy. Maybe that could become her new obsession then? Her reason to pursue? To try and get them out once more? Just this time around together? Just to give her a proper burial at least?
Maybe then, she would be able to live on as the one that got away?
With that he pointedly took the last sip of his coffee before standing up. If she didn't know any better, she would think he was in a hurry.
“It's time to go home, little spitfire.”
She sighed. That had been all the stalling she would get, wasn't it?
Her legs were shaking. She didn't want to get up. She didn't want to go back. What would she come back to anyways? They were all a bit too old for school now, weren't they? Would it just be them now? 24 hours for seven days just the brothers?
The thought made bile rise in her throat.
But instead of succumbing, like she had so often in the past, she got up on her feet. With a challenging grin she picked up her cake. After all she still had three bites left. She would simply eat it on the way to the car. Her first act of defiance if one could call it that.
To her surprise the red head let her. The only reaction she got was a shrug. She figured that that kind of action would have probably gotten a greater reaction out of the manner police.
She would have some time to figure that out again. Huh.
It was the same limousine she had expected in front of the little cafe. The tinted glasses made old memories want to come back to the surface.
“You know, “ he started as he opened the door for him, “I'm a bit disappointed that it was so easy to retrieve you. I was hoping for a bit more of a fight. For a bit of a struggle you know? Don't tell me you're all bark and no bite, little Spitfire.”
She got in while keeping the most distance to him as possible.
“I intend to keep your dirty hands off of me for the longest time that I can manage. I just know that they are itching right now.” She just hadn't been able to help herself. Some things just needed to be said.
She hadn't even registered the door closing that she already was on her back on the ground. His hand closed around her neck, his legs on either side of her, his mouth next to her ear.
She hadn't noticed her body starting to shiver. All her attention was on the inhumane hand around her throat. Objectively she had realized in surprise that his grip wasn't bruising. It wasn't even constricting her breathing. But emotionally? She only recognised the situation as the deadly one it was and always had been.
Yes. She was scared. Absolutely and utterly.
“Tell me, little Spitfire. I can feel you shaking. I can feel your blood raising underneath my fingers. I know you're scared. You just have to admit it.”
His teeth started to scrape at her neck. Yes, she was afraid. Deeply so. It wouldn't help with her current situation though. The only thing she could do was persevere. And so, she leaned up against his hand, closer to his teeth, nearly making them pierce her skin. Much too close for comfort, but then again, with his crotch on her stomach and his mouth near her neck and his hair tickling her skin, what wasn't too close for comfort?
“I'm not scared, Raito. Not of you. Not anymore.”
