Confliction - 4/13/2013 @_BeastlyCharm

I lay in bed, my eyes locked on the ceiling, not really looking at anything in particular as my thoughts are elsewhere. I close my eyes the gruesome images moving about my mind. Starting with the night my brother Henrik was killed. The sounds from outside the cave were enough to give even the bravest sort nightmares and I was young. I clung to Nik’s arm; my mother’s quiet whimpers the only sound within the caves. Loud snarls could be heard above us.  My brothers, parents and I all huddled inside with a few others. I open my eyes again pushing those memories only to have them replaced by another. It was 1872 just before we fled to Chicago, my father had caught up to us and Nik had us in hiding. I caught a glimpse of father’s face, dark and worn even for a vampire. I remember being so angry with him, how could he hunt down his own children? Nik, locked the others way, he said it was for safe keeping, but he kept me around and vaguely I wondered when he might do the same to me. With an exhausted sigh I push myself from my bed. Moving toward the mirror that sits over my Victorian dresser, I glance at my own reflection running over the more recent memories. The feeling of Damon’s fingers playing delicately over my skin moves through my mind. My hand finds the place where he touched me once, before settling on my lips where a phantom of his kiss still remained. Anger wells up within me and my hands find the side of the dresser, clenching tightly as I recall all the things we’d done. How he held me, the way his eyes glistened in the darkness. The feelings… The dresser creaks under my force, splintering and breaking apart as I force myself away from the mirror. “The bastard,” I spoke aloud. “Such disregard for anyone but himself.” My words came out spiteful and dripping with venom as my memories float toward a much darker place. The thought of Sage above me, tinkering within my thoughts, stealing my memories from me as I slept, if she wasn’t dead already I’d be tempted to pluck her eyes from her skull and feed them to Nik’s mutts. Then a devious grin takes the place of my scowl as I recall the night before last. The crimson pools of blood that lined the floors. The image of Damon broken, battered and beaten doing things to me that I couldn’t fathom. Causing me both pleasure and pain as more than anything I wanted to make him feel as he made me feel but there was nothing but disdain and indignation within his eyes. No remorse, no compassion, nothing. In the end my plan had failed, he will return to the arms of the doppelganger and I’m only a few stakes richer. I suppose that’s something but still there’s so much more pain I could cause him.. I pull in a breath and yet I’m conflicted. I see his face and all I want to do is rip his head from his shoulders and use it as a centerpiece. While a small, however minute part of me, wants to be held by him once more. It’s a sickening feeling, this humanity, the bane of my existence. It would be only so easy to turn it off. To hide these emotions within the black wall of blissful ignorance, never to feel this way again, so simple. I feel around my mind, searching blindingly for the switch, the switch to my sanity. I find it, there it is as if a beacon shining bright, beckoning me home. It would be a warm welcome, the silence would encircle me and warm my cold heart. Thoughts of the numbness, extremely enticing, as my subconscious toys with the idea, and with that I flip the switch. My eyes instantly opening, looking upon the room as if I were a newborn seeing the world for the first time. All thoughts of pain, regret and heart ache falling away with the tide. Damon, my brothers, they would see a change, catch the scent quickly. If they thought I was a bitch before, A wicked grin curls at the sides of my mouth, my head tilting forward menacingly. Wait till they see me now. The Bitch is back.