when passion's lost & all trust is gone;; [OPEN]

[cherry]

Some might say we've done the wrong things;
For way too long, for way too long.

Fever inside the storm,
So I'm turning away.
Away from the name
Away from the stones
'Cause I'm through mending the wounds of us

Keep your thorns
'Cause I'm running away,
Away from the games
Away from the space
The circumstances of a world so cold.

* * * * *

attire.

Six months, near enough, had passed since the night Elio had set her marital home ablaze, leaving her husband inside. He had been weakend by her lover, who had drained him to the point of death. Sordid? No, complicated. The guilt of it haunted her everyday, though she did not express it, instead she kept it inside. It had eaten away at her, and she was a mess; aggressive and even more short-tempered, even more dishonest. She couldn't care if she lived or died. Of course, poor Lukas had to deal with the fallout of her mood swings, and though he took it with good grace, cleared up the smashed plates and glasses whilst she cried her remaining rage out, she doubted how long he would take it for. She half-expected to find him gone whenever she left the small water-front house they shared. It was all she had wanted; to live with someone who loved her, adored her, but it felt so wrong. Her happiness had come, but at what price?

Her shoulder length hair was now a rich blonde, as opposed to the deep brown it had once been, and her features were sunken with stress and guilt and a hundred thousand other emotions. Her eyes were bleak, the grey color faded to a dull, almost black hue. She looked painfully skinny through lack of proper feeding. Her job at Elefang was on hold until she looked healthier; it had been a mutual agreement between Mordekai and herself. Both knew neither would profit, emotionally or financially, from Elio performing in the state she was in. She was caught in a spiral of depression that threatened to consume her completely, drag her down into her own personal hell.

The warm summer breeze lifted her hair slightly as it hung lankly down by her shoulders, flapping softly. It still had it's natural straightness, but it was limp and lifeless. Much like herself. Her eyes gazed out at the ocean as she sat on the beach, lost in treacherous thoughts. The waters were still and black, lapping so very tenderly at her feet as she sat on the edge of the waves. Her heels were next to her, so that she could feel the tepid waters against her bare skin. Again and again she bought the bottle of vodka to her lips, taking mouthful after mouthful. She grimaced each time, the liqour strong for her senses. It wouldn't even get her drunk, so why did she do it? Force of mortal habit, maybe, because it certainly wasnt for the taste. For the previous two weeks, she had drunk solid, as much as she could, hoping she would either succeed in overpowering her immortal body by actually becoming intoxicated, or die in the process. Either way was perfectly acceptable. Replacing the lid, she laid she bottle next to her on the damp sand. Her little dress was soaked from sitting there since sunset, but she couldn't care. It was so nice to have some alone time.

Putting the headphones back in her ears, she pressed play on her ipod, awkwardly fetching a cigarette from her packet with then other hand. Putting it between her lips, she lit it as 'Butterfly' by SMiLE.dk filled her ears. She laughed softly; she had loved cheesy '90s pop songs, especially this one, because it fuelled her japanese obsession. Now that had changed, she hated Japan, for good reason. Kai.

Of course, other things had changed too, besides her music tastes, her Japan obseession and her hair; she went by a completely new name; Chiyo. Strange really that she would pick an oriental name when she hated it so, but it was what her mother had called her when she was small. Her mother had phoned her three days prior, and it had killed Elio. It was easier for her to scream and shout at her mother, vent some of her untold rage over the phone, than to tell her the truth. What mother would believe her daughter if she said she was a vampire? She had said nothing of it, nor of the wedding which had taken place before the blaze. The wedding band and engagement ring were absent from her hand, instead hanging about her neck by a thin silver chain. She couldn't bear to sell them or destroy them or simply throw them into the darkness; marriage was sacred to Elio, and whether Kai was alive or not, she was still his wife. Or widow. That was why she had not slept with Lukas for the entire time they had been in New Orleans, had not allowed him to kiss her for three, nor even touch her for two. It seemed a sin. Though of course, as a vampire, she was cloaked in sin, she chose not to add to it. Did Lukas hate her for it? She often wondered if he did.

Letting out a sigh, she closed her eyes, enjoying the warm water on her feet along with the music in her ears. The alone-time was wonderful, and rare; Lukas was worried for her, that much she could tell. He often wanted to be with her all the time, whether it was out of love or fear for her safety. He was, infact, smothering her, though she hadn't the heart to tell him. She had killed one person who she had loved. She would not push another away. And yet, something niggled at her, told her that Kai was not dead, something still pulsed inside of her. It bothered her slightly. Of course he was dead. Fire killed vampires. She had known that, and still she had set his beautiful mansion ablaze. She was evil; every bit as twisted and cold as him, and the thought that it was simply revenge for all he had done did nothing to comfort her as she puffed away on the cigarette.

x

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