Let the Blood Flow Like Water

Rivolta Silenziosa by Humanwine

It was a few nights later. I was beginning to feel the hunger once more. I hadn't eaten since. I hadn't drained the blood from another victim. I hadn't killed since. Just thinking about it caused me pain as I relived that terrible feeling. I kept thinking about her hand around my wrist going slack. It sliding smoothly along my cold dead Unclean skin.

I had spent the past week understanding that with my faith and my beliefs that I was now unable to follow. I would never be me again. She had turned me into a monster that violated all of my beliefs about the dead. As a dead man, my gods and priests and witches would only ignore my pleas. I stopped worshiping. To simply continue to do so was to curse the gods I loved.

I had lost my support system and I was being forced to commit acts that were further than I had ever gone. Before, I had done bad things. They were for the family. There was a reason before. They made sense. Now, my actions were whims of Hers. The things I was made to do just simple cruelties for another's amusement.

This night it got worse. When she came for me, I was in a corner wrapped in sheets suffering as before. I was wrapped like a mewling and crying at least as much. She walked in and demanded that I stop. She told me that She had a gift for me. My body didn't know whether to cringe to rush over to her side. In the end, I twitched away and then rushed forward.

Before me on a table was an ornate box. It was some rich dark wood. It had a silver geometric design inlaid into the wood. It smelled of fresh flowers and some kind of perfume. It was beautiful. She told me about the ebony (the wood) and it's rarity and expense. She talked about the silversmith that she entranced for the gift. She told me of perfumed oils that were rubbed into the finished wood so that the scent wouldn't fade for some time. Then, when she was done, she explained that she wanted me to understand how much effort she had put into it. She paused and I thanked her for the box. I told her of its beauty in numerous words.

She laughed. She explained that she wanted me to know how much effort and thought and money went into making the box simply so that I would know the value of the real present which was inside. I was confused but eager to know what could be better than a thing of such beauty. She encouraged me to open my gift. Ever so carefully, just in case it was something more fragile than the box, I opened the lid. It moved soundlessly, proof of its master craftsman ship. When it was open, and I saw what was inside, I recoiled. Within the box, on a bed of fine satin, was a polished human skull. Upon the top of that skull was etched a name. It was etched with great care and the etching was stained with ink so that the name was clear.

Rebekah.

Over the sound of what I later realized was my own screaming She said simply, "She is yours. Your first kill."

Such kindness of action, such forethought masked Her intentions. Her deliberate cruelty. I hated Her and for a moment it was greater than my love for Her. I collapsed to my knees and drew my dagger. She laughed again. I began cutting my arm until she forbade me. My blood stained the floor. It took me a second before I realized I was just spilling her, Rebekah's, blood once more. I was just tarnishing her memory once more. It hurt more than the knife wounds. After She was done enjoying the moment, She forbade me from ever seriously harming myself. With those words and that command she cursed me.

After petting me gently and then ruffling my hair she left me alone. I was alone with the box. I was alone with Rebekah.

-L