Party In The Graveyard(KevinGhostFanfic)

Chapter 10:Poetic Yet

Chapter 10:

Blake's POV:

I looked around the familiar, empty ball room. I was dressed as before,other than my hair being blue, stepping carefully to a chair in the corner. I sat down, seeing Kevin approach me.

"I love you. And I could not love except where Death was mingling his with Beauty's breath.", he said, quoting Edgar Allen Poe.

"I heard that in your conscience. I didn't know you were into poetry."

I smiled.

"At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet.", I quoted another famous poet, Emily Dickinson. Kevin smiled back at me, getting closer with every word.

"I could not stop for Death, so he stopped for me.", I quoted Dickinson once more and he reached out for my hand. Our fingers intertwined.

"Beauty, can I be your Death?", he asked.

"Yes. We can dream together. Literally."

He laughed and kissed my hand. He firmly slammed my hand on the armrest of the chair and pulled a rope from his pocket. He tied my hand down. I grabbed his hand with my untied one but he only slammed it down on the other rest. He pulled out another twine-laced rope and tied it down. I then had memories flooding back to me.

This was not a dream. This was not a dream, nor a fantasy or illusion. I remembered that he had taken me here on account of our get away day before the Static Nightmares Tour. Why hadn't I remembered before? Ah yes, the substance he'd slipped in my wine had obviously begun wearing off now.

"Dear, I think you are beginning to awaken.", he whispered. Why did he sound so wise, like he was from another time? He'd become an immortelle merely three years ago, and there's no way he could be as old and wise as his words were now.

"Yes, I am remembering..."

He smiled. Not a beautiful one, but a wicked, devilish smile that made my skin crawl. Who was I fooling? That was what made it beautiful.

"Shh now, this will only help you relax a bit."

He pulled out a syringe and my body tensed. A chill ran up my spine as he evenly dispersed the liquid in each arm and leg. I still had feeling, I could feel the cold air and the chair against me, but I could not move my appendages. Only feel the surrounding forces acting on them.

"Do not worry, I am not the gentle type."

He seemed to stalk around the chair in circles almost, surveying every ounce of me that was covered by my long medieval dress. He leaned in and gave a short kiss before pulling away. He pulled out some sort of medical scalpel, and lifted my dress. He released the corset of it and revealed the scarred, withered rose on my stomach.

"Oh, that's such a shame."

I tried to speak , but no words came out. I thought it a side affect of whatever was in the syringe. All I could do was think.

"It's healed. I guess ill have to renew it for you."

He pushed in the scalpel, much more precise than the dagger used before. He kept it even and I almost screamed at the rushing adrenaline as it pumped through my veins. I felt blood pouring out of every laceration, every incision he made. I felt every ounce of pain , though I could not seem to move. What kind of paralytic was this? I'd never seen such a thing, or felt it, in this case.

I then felt the intoxicating poison on his tongue coat every inch of the wound. It burned like hell, and I'm sure my blood burned his tongue as well. I could not struggle, I could not fight back. Though I wondered if I would , if given the ability to.