Fan Fiction ❯ Pretty things are easily broken. ❯ Pretty things are easily broken. ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Pretty things are easily broken.

.... My little crippled plaything.

I didn't need his forgiveness. I didn't need his acceptance.
I was a murdering machine.
A predator, if you will.

But it was him that I wanted.
The way his hair moved as he walked; it was like some kind of cheap glittering hypnotist's watch, the way he controlled everything around him without even realizing it, without even meaning to.
That uninhibited power shining in his ever-so-dark eyes. It had to belong to me.
Those locks of liquid sunshine- I wanted to pull them out strand by strand...

I would hurt him just to have him scream my name. Scream my name like the poison it was.

And I would have him as my pretty little leashed pet.
That much, I had decided.
The cat would have it's mouse to toy with.

I still clearly remember that evening.
It was a full moon, and like humans do, he was being stupid.
He was outside, heading for the tavern to pick up his father, who was probably getting drunk off ginger ale again.
Human beings really are the most inferior creatures on this godforsaken planet.
I'll never forget the look on his face when I pulled him off the streets just like that. He truely did look like some kind of terrified, lost animal.
That stubborn air had abruptly dissapeared.

I knew I'd lose interest in him soon enough.
I always lost interest in my toys. When one's body transcends time itself, like mine does, things do tend to get boring easily. I'd already seen everything that was worth seeing...
Or so I thought.

But those pleas of his when my fangs scraped past the deliciously tanned skin of his slender, perfect neck...
That desperation to stay alive.
It was so very predictable. Yet, it is something I still do not understand to this day. Why that desire to live? Why choose a slow, painful and humiliating death over instant demise?
He knew he was going to die eventually, after all. Are humans really that full of false hope?
But I'd expected nothing less.

And so I took him to that secluded place I suppose could be called my 'home'.
Just another large manor I decided to be fitting to my taste.
I threw him in the basement room which I preferred to call my 'dungeon', where most of my previous little pets had found their deaths.

I tortured him, manipulated his mind, played with him.
It continued for weeks and weeks, and I truely revelled in his screams of anguish. They worked up a deep sugary rush low in my stomach.
But he never even once tried to escape.
Not once, even on the brink of insanity.

So, as the predator I am, I decided to make my little game more interesting.
I let him roam the manor as he wished to-- of course locking the doors.
Apparently, this newly granted freedom gave my golden-haired pet back some of his original viciousness.
"Go to hell," he told me.
I only felt another sugary rush.
"Been there, done that," I replied with a frown on my face.
And he laughed.

That hadn't been part of the plan.
He was supposed to fear me, hate me... Be my possession.
It was confusing.

And then there was that one night.
That night when things seriously went wrong.
I had gone out hunting, and I hadn't been careful. I'd run into a werewolf and got seriously hurt.
After having been able to make my way back to the mansion before dawn, I dragged myself to my quarters, but I didn't even get as far as reaching the bed before I collapsed.
Life flowed out of me like the blood pooling on the cold floor and I was certain that it was going to be the end of me.
But all I could think of were golden locks and smiles and the fruity scent of his hair.

He never really told me what happened after that, but I woke up about a week later with my wounds almost fully healed. Warm fingers were stroking through my hair at that time and I couldn't help but recognise the cuts in his wrists.
He had let me live off his blood all that time, then.
I felt more sugar in my stomach, but it rose up this time to touch a place in my chest I had long since presumed dead.

I'll never forget what I did after that.
I reached up and pulled his head low so that his lips were shyly brushing over mine.
The first kiss.
I couldn't know that the sheer memory of it today would be so painful.
His quiet whimpers at my possession of his lips and tongue and the liquid heat of his mouth are memories I cherish to this day even.
The way he smiled against my lips, how he quivered under my touch...
And those deliciously loud moans and pleas for more as I felt him from the inside, fucked him over and over again.

It was probably the biggest mistake I'd made in my life.
I had fallen in love with him.
For the first time in over three hundred years, I felt happy.

No one ever told me he was sunshine.
If they had, maybe I would've been more careful.

Love is not for nothing a forbidden emotion in the vampire community.
Happiness couldn't last long.
I knew I wanted to keep that illusion, but I also knew that they were going to find out anyways.

And find out, they did.

I don't think I've ever seen him more peaceful than that.
But I knew he wasn't going to wake up anymore.
No matter how much I cried and pleaded and shook him, he wouldn't wake up.

No one ever told me he was sunshine.