(Blood, Gore, Self Harm. You've been warned.)
The hotel room was dark, except for the green glow from the neon sign right outside his door. Travis sat with his knees drawn up to his chest, the shining silver blade in his hands. He twisted and turned the hilt and the serrated edge reflected the sickly green glow of the light.
There was an irony he thought, about the wolf staying at a place called The Twilight Bungalow. All he needed was a sparkling vampire and an emotionless girl.
A girl.
Dylan.
The thoughts changed. Why did he do this to her? There was no reason other than his constant struggle with his own, inner darkness.
?Guys like us,? Charlie motioned between Travis and himself. ?We don?t get a ?forever.? Happily ever after is in fairy fvcking tales.?
Charlie was right.
There was no calming what he was. Those years of forced fights had taken more of a toll on him than he cared to admit. Four years on the run, looking over his shoulder was four too many.
He twisted the blade again, the silver flashed. In his mind it was the flashbulb of the camera as Sissy snapped a picture of him at Christmas. Dylan was laughing as she did her photobomb. The bells on the antlers on her head jingling as she leaned in and kissed him, right there in front of a lot of her family.
The blade flashed again.
Always.
The word pressed into his mind, as the platinum band pressed into his finger.
She loved him.
He knew it.
?Two things are certain in life, Sin. We are born, and we die. What we do in between those two times will flash past us, no matter how long we live. The more time we spend around these cages, the more we become as hard and as cold as the bars that surround them.? They called her Winter, she was the only solid white were wolf he had ever seen, or even heard of.
She was younger than Travis, he could tell that much, but she was just as deadly as he was in the ring. When she wasn?t in her fighting form, she was small, toned, and an albino. Her white hair was long, nearly past her mid-back, and her eyes were so pale blue that they were nearly silver.
They found her in a small village in Tanzania. She?d neutralized a force of eight commandos, sent to kill her by a warring tribe?s medicine man. He wanted her eyes for his own purposes, and planned on selling bits of her bones on the black market for others like him. After she dealt with the mercs, she went after the witchdoctor.
Travis admired her for that.
Again the blade reflected light, but this time it was the red tail lights of a vehicle backing into a parking place right outside his door. The slick, red, light reminded him of his fists and upper arms, as he stood over the body of the white werewolf. Her jaw hung slack, and her chest was painted in arterial red from the slash on her throat. He?d ripped out most of her throat, and severed arteries with sharp claws.
Werewolves use their body?s energy to regenerate from nearly everything. If you put their bodies through enough torture, and break enough parts, they die like everything else. Being what he was, Travis had no worries about that. He had died a few times in the ring, and had the scars to prove it.
His thoughts turned back to Dylan, and the blade flipped in his hand catching the hilt easily.
She wanted the best for them both. She didn?t want the best of everything, but she wanted their happiness, and for them to continue to share everything in their lives. She accepted him for what he was, and who he was. Even the nights she faced his dark half. Even the nights she saw him in another form, standing over a deer that he fed on.
?We don?t deserve happiness, Chap!? Charlie said as he toasted Sin with his whiskey glass. ?We deserve a special place in hell for everything we?ve done, and everything that I?ve made you do.?
It was true.
He killed so many people, he?d lost track. Some were in matches; some were people that wronged Charlie, or the Promoter. Recently, it had been people looking to harm himself or Dylan.
?I?m sorry, Dylan. I don?t deserve this?and neither do you.?
The blade flashed, serrated edge cutting along the under side of his wrist from his palm toward his elbow. The fire was instant, as the silver worked against his healing ability and the veins splayed open. Blood began to pump with every beat of his heart, running down his arm and dripping onto his leg before continuing to the matted carpet of the cheap hotel room. He pushed the blade through and left it there stuck through his wrist, as he knew he wouldn?t heal through silver.
He saw her smile, as he shut his eyes and let his arm fall , as he rested his head against the cool wall.
?She deserves better.? Charlie?s voice echoed through his mind as his heartbeat went softer. ?Let her go.?
(tbc)
The hotel room was dark, except for the green glow from the neon sign right outside his door. Travis sat with his knees drawn up to his chest, the shining silver blade in his hands. He twisted and turned the hilt and the serrated edge reflected the sickly green glow of the light.
There was an irony he thought, about the wolf staying at a place called The Twilight Bungalow. All he needed was a sparkling vampire and an emotionless girl.
A girl.
Dylan.
The thoughts changed. Why did he do this to her? There was no reason other than his constant struggle with his own, inner darkness.
?Guys like us,? Charlie motioned between Travis and himself. ?We don?t get a ?forever.? Happily ever after is in fairy fvcking tales.?
Charlie was right.
There was no calming what he was. Those years of forced fights had taken more of a toll on him than he cared to admit. Four years on the run, looking over his shoulder was four too many.
He twisted the blade again, the silver flashed. In his mind it was the flashbulb of the camera as Sissy snapped a picture of him at Christmas. Dylan was laughing as she did her photobomb. The bells on the antlers on her head jingling as she leaned in and kissed him, right there in front of a lot of her family.
The blade flashed again.
Always.
The word pressed into his mind, as the platinum band pressed into his finger.
She loved him.
He knew it.
?Two things are certain in life, Sin. We are born, and we die. What we do in between those two times will flash past us, no matter how long we live. The more time we spend around these cages, the more we become as hard and as cold as the bars that surround them.? They called her Winter, she was the only solid white were wolf he had ever seen, or even heard of.
She was younger than Travis, he could tell that much, but she was just as deadly as he was in the ring. When she wasn?t in her fighting form, she was small, toned, and an albino. Her white hair was long, nearly past her mid-back, and her eyes were so pale blue that they were nearly silver.
They found her in a small village in Tanzania. She?d neutralized a force of eight commandos, sent to kill her by a warring tribe?s medicine man. He wanted her eyes for his own purposes, and planned on selling bits of her bones on the black market for others like him. After she dealt with the mercs, she went after the witchdoctor.
Travis admired her for that.
Again the blade reflected light, but this time it was the red tail lights of a vehicle backing into a parking place right outside his door. The slick, red, light reminded him of his fists and upper arms, as he stood over the body of the white werewolf. Her jaw hung slack, and her chest was painted in arterial red from the slash on her throat. He?d ripped out most of her throat, and severed arteries with sharp claws.
Werewolves use their body?s energy to regenerate from nearly everything. If you put their bodies through enough torture, and break enough parts, they die like everything else. Being what he was, Travis had no worries about that. He had died a few times in the ring, and had the scars to prove it.
His thoughts turned back to Dylan, and the blade flipped in his hand catching the hilt easily.
She wanted the best for them both. She didn?t want the best of everything, but she wanted their happiness, and for them to continue to share everything in their lives. She accepted him for what he was, and who he was. Even the nights she faced his dark half. Even the nights she saw him in another form, standing over a deer that he fed on.
?We don?t deserve happiness, Chap!? Charlie said as he toasted Sin with his whiskey glass. ?We deserve a special place in hell for everything we?ve done, and everything that I?ve made you do.?
It was true.
He killed so many people, he?d lost track. Some were in matches; some were people that wronged Charlie, or the Promoter. Recently, it had been people looking to harm himself or Dylan.
?I?m sorry, Dylan. I don?t deserve this?and neither do you.?
The blade flashed, serrated edge cutting along the under side of his wrist from his palm toward his elbow. The fire was instant, as the silver worked against his healing ability and the veins splayed open. Blood began to pump with every beat of his heart, running down his arm and dripping onto his leg before continuing to the matted carpet of the cheap hotel room. He pushed the blade through and left it there stuck through his wrist, as he knew he wouldn?t heal through silver.
He saw her smile, as he shut his eyes and let his arm fall , as he rested his head against the cool wall.
?She deserves better.? Charlie?s voice echoed through his mind as his heartbeat went softer. ?Let her go.?
(tbc)