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Since the  – Amelia incident – I haven’t been sleeping.   Which is fine – it’s not like I need it, and it’s not like nights aren’t my preferred playtime anyway.

But it’s weird what your body decides without you being actively involved.   I might not physically require sleep, but even after all this time my body still remembers what it’s like, and how to do it, and that habit of pursuing it when relaxing after a long period without it…

 

I dreamt.

 

I dreamt I was back at that party with Kane.   The music was so loud it was now only a thumping pressure in the ears, a muffled heartbeat heard underwater.   The halls and rooms stretched out impossibly long, even for the wealth of space Carly’s parents could afford.   And Kane and I were wandering kind of aimlessly past vaguely familiar faces – none of whom I could actually remember – and among bodies in motion, though the dancing and groping was oddly slow and indistinct.   We came to a door and opened it.

And then there was silence, and all was sharp and fluorescent bright and in focus.   A snapshot – there was Carly the party princess, sitting on the pile of laundry, with bloodied tissues scattered about, nursing her embarrassment and her bloody nose.   And there is red, and the steely smell of the blood in the air, and nothing is slow and watered-down any more.   I remember this.   There is no hesitation as I strike – faster than screams, faster than the horror can reach the brain.   And I rip and fucking rend, and the laundry pile is keeping the floor clean, and there is a strangled sound from Kane behind as his mind finally processes what he’s seeing.   And so I turn, and slam the door faster than he can get through it, and close him in with his would-be girlfriend – and continue what I have begun.

And when I sit back and look, the dream logic starts to bend, and I’m realising how everyone wants a princess, and Carly should always have been for me, and Kane had always been playing with his life in not smelling the danger on me, and this was how that story was meant to go, and there would never have been any fucking leaving or complications – only lust and blood and satisfaction, and everything I fucking want, mine.

 

When I woke, I was flushed and furious, and hungry.   And hollow.

 

NEXT ENTRY…

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2 Comments

  1. Glad to hear you and the cat are settling in.Enjoy.If ya ever come my way I can point you in the right direction for some fine dinning.Cheers!

  2. I find it amusing that you felt hollow.


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