Requiem for the living

Chapter 4: One hell of a family

Wild thoughts are one who is caught between the love of two killers who didn't stained their hands due their own will. The most sinful hands aren't those who were stained by blood, but those who remained spotless as they comanded. Persuasion is a strong technique of the great minds that set up like a game of chess who is going to be spared or slaughtered, and it was clear that dreams were only a walk to remeber the trap in the killer's mind as their name would be envoke to represent all their depravity.

'A mistake set into the talion law', it slided into Brendon Urie's mind, a pawn of the lawful whose conscience was stained with its own morality. How could he be clean as his mind was stained?

'Will I stain your mind too?' The words were ravishing into his very own head, mumbling with despair, till he focused less, fading into a void of a nightmarish night. Mary Jackson was playing with the balance of the justice game without knowing it bent from the weight of her actions. And wasn't there, right in that choice of her, a glimpse of free will?

There was no free will in what he did.
Constraining was the word, even more brutal than persuasion, something not human, but righteous in the books written by man's hand. The metalic, sweet scent filled his lungs as Brendon's breath harden, quick sips of air being taken in an atempt for salvation as he didn't offer one. The begs were little, born in fear as guilty eyes shared with him a bent to the idea of redemption, others for that of escape.

What was left was lifeless, a vessel drained by his hands, and the blame should be nonexisting. As he was taking his black cloth off, his victim was showing its own, as it suited so well the thin body, undeniably recogniscible, and then he knew...

"Mary!" he woke as his body was shaking in doubt when he saw where he was. The people were gone, so was the blood of his victim that was secretly beloved. It seemed like he was expressing his love in his head differently than the tender ways he should. It was only a matter a time till he understood what happened, shortcuts of the night filling his memory. The wedding, the suicide of the senator, the confronting of Mary, her dirty secret...All came together as he stand up in her so-called basement for crafting purpose.

And little did he knew that above him, in a room a sweet intimacy moment was being spent between two newlyweds, who knew their betrayal in their act of self-giving.

The fight was long gone, like a trace of what a bond between two who couldn't feel a thing try to avoid through desperate measures. But what made the pleasure of one's body be the opposite of the one of the soul, so filthy despite of the other cleanliness it would be like Heaven and Hell brought toghether only by a touch?

"We should stop", Mary whispered in his ear as he dragged her closer to him, to feel the heat that he thought naïve that would cure his coldness in his own soul.

Wilson stood as he could not understand her gesture of rejection, but couldn't help to trace his fingers along her curves, feeling the skin soft, but not flawless as he thought, with little marks from birth and freckles and all the things that attested the fact that she was sun kissed and world loved.

"No, you are not going anywhere.", he laughed as he felt her fragility like the one of the being who is worthy of becoming pray, frustration growing under him in the very act of that closure between them, between the heat and the coldness and all their feels that they could share on that beautiful façade.

"Your persuasion scares me." she put her hands on the back of Ryan's neck, feeling his backbones and so tensed fiber as he was standing still, and yet with frustration in that desire of her.

And then her touch faded slowly as she barely touching his hands, those who were unstained by blood but had an owner with such a twisted mind she accepted.