Awakened....part 3

Her hair curled around her face and seemed to invite me closer to her as it had done those moments before I killed her. She turned her head to the side and her body followed. She curled up as if she were cold. How could she feel? I had long since forgotten the sensation of touch and taste. Her face curled up as if she sensed me near her. It was as if she was dreaming. I could not remember what it felt like to dream. I felt an ache for her, as if I could be alive for a moment. It seemed like the moment that I took her in my arms and decided she would be mine. I knew I wanted no one to know her, not the way I did that moment. Her hair smelled of roses and jasmine. One breath of her hair was intoxicating. Her cheeks had a touch of pink from the tingling cold. I knew it was cold not by the feeling but by the way her body showed it with goose bumps. I remember the feeling of her blood flowing into my mouth. The sweet taste was like her hair, intoxicating. Her eyes looked around everywhere as if taking one last look. The moon shined in her hair and reflected in her cheeks. I remember the first taste of her blood, the sweet sensation of life flowing into my corpse. She awoke the dormant places in my body making them alive. Then the stabbing pain, that broke though with the pain of the blade she stabbed me with. The remembrance of the stabbing awoke me from my dream of feeling what she felt. The feeling of love for a killer seemed strange but I felt them flowing off her just like the life. The impossibility of her being alive and dead at the same time puzzled me. She was so open and yet so closed. Her silent voice that squeaked in pain at the last few moments seemed to hit me harder than the feelings of love. She controlled my emotions that I felt from her. I felt helpless against her and her feelings. I felt still attached to her, the connection that comes with the victims. I was sitting in the far corner hoping to find an escape from her in the same room. My curiosity of her and he existence kept me from running from the room and leaving her to die there. I waited even more impatient for her to awake from the unnatural slumber. The natural stone floor that was broken and placed together seemed fitting more with us. She and I were broken and in one moment forced to fit together. Who would have thought I would be broken. I had always been so strong even my creator had been unable to break me. My creator's beauty seemed at the time would never be riffled, but now her beauty surpassed it. The crinkle of her nose when she moved in seemed so peaceful and innocent. Touching the knife wounds seemed to be the only way for me to touch reality and find a sort of release of her emotions. The painting on the walls of places I once had passed seemed to become alive. The broke where I had taken my first awoke the memory of her blood and its simple taste. The young girl tasted like a cheap bottle of wine compared to her who had become a rare vintage. The old bridge in the English countryside where I thought I had found love with another one of us seemed to remind me of my hatred that I felt of them all. I looked away from the walls and back to her. She had become my calming center. Then as if a call from someone you wish not to talk to at that moment, the chains shook. She was begging to wake.

I awoke with the throb in my head and chains on my wrist. I sat up promptly and with a fear. I looked for a moment at the crimson red room and saw him. I saw the killer, the attacker, my love, and my victim all in one man. His blue eyes seemed more afraid of me then me of him. Could he feel was something I wish I could know. My hunger renewed its self inside me. I looked to him and he seemed to understand leaving the room. I pulled at the chains on my wrists. The tape on my mouth seemed less of a problem than the chains on my writs. The cold steel ran shivers up my spine. I felt the need to shake. The room was as cold as a tomb. How could he be so unfeeling.

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