The Night Is Here

Predator

As I got off the taxi at midnight I realised there is not a single soul on the street. I intentionally asked the driver to drop me off at the deserted street which is still a few good meters away from my apartment. Reason: I am weird. 

Walking or rather dragging my feet to my apartment was a tough job. The only motivation was more alcohol waiting in my room to be glorified by my veteran tongue. As I reached the gate, the old sleepy security guard gave me the signature look he always uses to address me, i.e sympathetic. Read pathetic. 

“Should I walk you to your flat?” He asked genuinely concerned. 

“No, I think I can manage. Thanks.” I snapped without a reason at the poor man trying to help my ragged body to my place. 

“Why do you drink so much beta? You are so young and you are alone in this town. How will you take care of yourself if you are never in your senses…” His voice trailed off as I walked away. 

His concern was bothering me. I am not used to people giving a damn about me. Atleast about my mental or physical health. My parents glorified their duties by sending me a fat amount of money every month and staying states away from their shame of a daughter. My only brother was settled in a different continent caring enough to video chat with me once in a week. Hence, I had the privilege to live on my own terms in the city of joy where I found no joy. Except ofcourse alcohol. The only constant thing in my life. 

I open the door to my two bedroom suite-apartment which smelt faintly of cheap pest control and expensive whisky. Home: a place you get to sleep in. That’s what it has always been to me. Even when I lived with my parents in a different city. Before I was even introduced to the wonders of alcohol. When I begged for the attention of my money making ever there parents. Isn’t that how its was supposed to be? I was a shame to them. Daughter to the super successful lawyer couple, I wanted to be a traveler, a wanderer, a nomad. In short someone who knows no home, no boundaries, no limits. My ever supportive father though didn’t object much to my happiness. Afterall my life mattered more than his reputation at the oldies club. My mother on the other hand asked me get out of her sight right away. So I did what she wished for. I haven’t seen her since college started i.e in 9 months. And its strange but pleasing in a way I can’t explain that I don’t miss her. Or anyone in that case. 

Anyway. 

I locked the door behind me and went straight to the bathroom. Barely able to carry myself. Slowly as I stripped myself of the little clothing that was covering my 20 year old feminine temple of a body I noticed all my scars in the full length mirror facing me. It was like my past was knocked into my face all over again. A past that is just a few months old. Fresh. And so raw that it was still red. All the scars on my body. A million of them. He has left his mark on me for life. I walked into fire and I am burnt. Not his fault. I don’t even blame him. 

Stepping into the bathtub overflowing with lukewarm water I regained all my senses. The high was gone and so was every residue of my alcohol consumption from that night. As the water tickled my skin, all my scars were sparkling like little stars in the night sky. They were a beautiful gift from my predator. 

I refuse to give in to sleep that was slowly overpowering my now erect senses. So I thought of torturing my soul a bit more by recalling that night of hunting. When my predator was tired of preying on my savage body and decided to dump me with a final blow. 

It was a summer night. 13th of May. Coming home from a friend’s birthday I was drenched in euphoria from all the weed I pumped into my lungs that evening, I decided to check my phone. 20 missed calls it read from a familiar number. I knew what awaited me at home. If I say I was scared it would be an understatement. But, I was beyond excited too for the pain I was going to endure for the rest of the night. I know this sounds crazy, but what else am I? I was so used to his wild and animalistic side by this time it almost felt normal. 4 months into his game of hunting every inch of my skin showing both love and hate I accepted it as a part of our passion. I thought maybe this is how the spark between us would never die unlike my past relationships. 

With trembling hands I rang the doorbell. He opened the door exactly two minutes later. Rage visible in his drunk eyes. He reeked of alcohol. I was ready. 

“What do you think of me whore? Am I your lost puppy? Don’t you know I need you, your body? Don’t you know you’re my high?” He spat. 

“I am sorry. I couldn’t get away. She was expecting.” I tried explaining as I hugged him. 

He pulled me by my hair. I winced in pain as he kissed me. Slipping his hands into my dress he started undressing me roughly. He was so fast I could barely breathe. But nothing would stop him when he decides to ruin me. Only in my lingerie by then he picked me up hastily only to drop me on the kitchen slab. I closed my eyes as I saw him grab the knife from the drawer. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I suppressed a shout. The pain was blinding. He was mad. He was more wild than usual as he marked my skin red with his love. I gasped as I felt him directing the knife towards my face. A sharp burning sensation ran through my throat as he neatly tried to slice my skin like butter. I pushed him away unable to take it anymore. This only triggered him more. He grabbed me by my waist and relieved me of my leftover clothing. Taking out another knife from the drawer he started drawing his sins on every inch of my skin. My entire body was throbbing with pain when he dicided he was done marking his love on my skin for the night and took me to the bathroom. He turned the water temperature to cold and pushed me under the shower. I felt the earth crack beneath me as the ice cold water ran through my skin only encouraging my pain. The bathroom floor has by then turned crimson in color. My color. The color of our love. I was beyond happy. I suddenly felt a tingling sensation between my thighs. Time for round two. As he started pleasing his needs with my already ravaged body I started losing consciousness. The only thing I remember before blacking out was his godlike face biting into my neck.

I woke up to a inhuman pain bringing every part of my body live the next morning. I noticed I was covered in white bedsheet which was stained red. I tried recalling the incidents from night before heading out of my bed with my uber swollen body when it hit me. Where is he? It was 6 in the morning. He never leaves this early. I called out for him barely making some sound thanks to my bruised neck. I dragged myself to all the rooms but he was no where to be seen. I went to the kitchen to see the marble covered in blood and so was the slab. Just as I was about to head out I saw two knives stained with dried blood placed on a piece of paper. Bile rose in my throat as I picked up the paper to read. It read, 

“I have fed on you enough. You have nothing left to offer. My ecstasy is gone. I don’t think you are my drug anymore. You are too ruined to be. The hunter inside me is satisfied now. I am leaving for your own good.

 Don’t ever try to find me.”

I remember falling to the ground with all my weight as my knees went week. My head spun and I felt like throwing up. Tears ran down my face like a river waiting to flood an entire town. I was ruined. He was right. I was scarred beyond repairing. The damage was too strong to be cured. He had fed on me enough. He marked my fragile body on his name forever. But he was gone. The hunter was gone while the prey wished for him to come back. I will always thank him though for the passionate times he made me witness that no one ever again can. 

The predator walked away in glory as the prey lay there lifeless.