DESCENT

XIII -A matter of love and death

Somewhere, in the numbing haze of it all, she could hear it: her heart, her poor beating heart practically exposed to the frigid air.

It was beating slower and slower like it wasn't even beating at all, like it was fading, as though she was... she was dying, isn't she? And she knows, can feel it deep in bones that have yet to be broken that she is, she just know it, without a doubt, without even bothering to raise her gaze to look at the King of Vampires who had gone silent as he stared at her heart beating in motion, looking so completely enthralled, as though he had never seen a human heart before.

Finally, keeping his other hand wrapped around her still-bleeding throat where a large, gaping hole pulsed like a second heartbeat, all thanks to his well-fed mouth that brutalized her for what seemed to be like days on end days on end days on end that felt endless, like a never-ending loop.

He leaned down, leering at her torn apart chest hungrily before he closed his eyes, monstrous teeth sinking deep into her heart.

And her mouth moved as if to form wordsanother scream, another cry—but there was no sound, let alone a voice to call for help that will never come because he had torn off her tongue earlier. Instead, she can feel herself choking on her own blood.

Still her mind wailed Dad, help me.

Even now, as her heart was being devoured, savored like the greatest of meal, she knew she should be dead by now—right when her stomach, flesh, bones and all had been ripped apart, when she had been gutted like a fish—and she was so sure she had bled out all over the bed a little while ago. She could not speak, she could not see past the fog of searing, hot-white pain in and out her body, let alone think of anything else but the teeth and hands gleefully digging and scrabbling in all over her like a pack of hungry crows—she was completely limp in his grasp, like a pliant, useless little doll, completely at his mercy... as though he had actually some to give.

Despite his softly-spoken words, the endearments he so lavishly throw upon her like she was something so precious to him, she knew she was no better than a snack for him to feast on whenever the mood strikes him, just another toy to play with.

And I should have died.

And yet, and yet, I am still here, why am I still here, why was she still alive, in a half-eaten body which she had no control or... or feeling for anymore.

This body... did it still belong to her?

Was her body still here?

Was she alive?

Was this even considered living? Could this still be living if here she was, wishing that she had been better off dead?

Is this... is this hell...?

If she still had a heart left, it would be beating so loudly at the sudden pang of a new fear growing within her.

But as she listened to a gluttonous gulp, she knows she had no heart anymore, she can hear absolutely nothing save for a fading, white noise ringing on and on in her ears and she thinks, she should be dead right now. For the last time, she should have been dead. And...

And–!

She wants to go home.

She wants her dad.

She wants him to come wake her up, pick her up in his arms, wipe her tears away and laugh at her for being so silly, for being so scared of a nightmare–