Original - With Wrath, the Fall

Lane - Chapter 20: A Black Heart's Plea

My head ached. I felt as if it was fragmented, broken in two, one mind with memories that belonged to me and one with memories that belonged to another. Then lost in-between were the memories of yesterday. They seemed to bob as waves to a boat between me, true me, and me, not quite me. I remembered a thick dark red that flowed as a river. I remembered the dissonance of the cries of woman, man, and child. Each thought, each flash seemed to thrust two sides against each other, the feelings of true me and the feelings of another me. One side lead by a me that felt a solemn tug towards the emotions of those who were lost. Another with a version of me that became thrilled at the thought of hearing more cries, feeling more blood, tasting more skin.

I rested my head against the pew that supported my back. Mindlessly I gazed at the ceiling.

Gotta love this... I've gone right and lost my mind...

I closed my eyes and released a long sigh.

What the hell is happening to me...

"Something beautiful," Vincent loomed over me, his pale skeletal-like skin standing out against the dark colored background of the main hall.

"The hell do you want?"

Vincent leaned in, inches from my face, "Oh my sweet Lane, is that any way to talk to me?"

I held his thick dark bloodied gaze, "What are you going to do about it?"

I watched his eyes move as they analyzed my face, "It'd be such a shame but..." He leaned in further, his quiet words echoing in my ear, "I'll drain you of each and every last drop of your blood." They coiled around my throat as a snake.

His threat ran through my body, consuming me in anger. I went to retort. His lengthy finger touched my lips. An icy breeze seemed to come from his touch wrapping itself around my body. I tried to breathe. The air around me tightened. I choked. My mind fogged.

A devil's grin appeared on his face, "Not a word more from you. Air is a limited resource."

I tried to speak up but there was no air in my lungs. It felt as if it had been stolen. My vision blurred, clouding my surroundings. I squirmed. Not only had my air been taken from me, it had turned against me. I was restrained against the column. I blinked, trying to get rid of the cloudiness. No luck. My ears rang louder and louder. I wanted to scream but I just became more and more choked. I squeezed my eyes shut, as tight as I could.

Make it stop...

I cried.

Make it stop...

I prayed.

Make it stop!

I demanded.

Then silence fell. I could breathe again. I could speak again, I could move again. My head throbbed. My stomach churned. My body shook. I felt racked as if I was suffering from the world's worst hangover.

A malicious laugh echoed around. The atmosphere felt different. I looked around. I was no longer in Vincent's mansion. No. It looked as if I was in a box. Walls stood at four parallel sides, moving as water in the form of black clouds. The ground was like a slab of glass suspended over a night sky. The air was thick, chilling, and stagnant. Each breath seemingly threatened to asphyxiate me.

A voice sounded all around, "You still deny us..."

I tossed my head around looking for the source of the voice, "Who the hell are you?"

"We are you," black mist cascaded off a figure that rose from the ground in front of me. Underneath the writhing mist eyes as bright as fire burned. Their pupils were that of an odd runic symbol.