IN THE DEAD OF THE NIGHT

In the dead of the night, you can feel me inside. I haunt your dreams, coloring them blood red. I get such a thrill out of waking you with terror and pain. You and pain have such a lovely history. I like it when you try to ignore me, telling yourself I'm just a dream. I live for the times you try to push me away. I get off pushing you back, filling your head with picture after picture, scene after scene. Much like a curator fills a museum with fine art.

You can't deny me, Larabee. I'll never leave. You opened the door. Welcomed me in -- hell, you begged me to take up residence. And here I am, always.

I wait in the darkness, just below the surface, where the frozen winds surround my face, impatiently waiting for the right moment to claw my way to existence. It takes but something simple to fuel the inferno, something ordinary; a hand brushing by, or a smile. Maybe even the color of a coat.

Most people fail to understand what murder is. But you understand. I'm glad. It takes genuine talent to commit a perfect murder. I am no homicidal manic, roaming the streets, drool spilling down my chin, eyes glazed. I have finesse, a forte if you like. I kill. And I am very good at it. Just as you are.

Killing has always been easy for me. Even the first time. There was no hesitation, no vacillation of any kind. I will admit to being too quick to end a life in the beginning. I've since learned the process should be drawn out, the gratification extended.

Oh, the time I've had to perfect the craft. Countless millennia I've survived, countless bodies I've inhabited, countless victims I have slain. All that wonderful time has made me truly a master. You should thank me, as my sole inheritor I've made you the perfect killing machine.

You go silent when I take them, but I can feel you. Like me, you're just below the surface, waiting in the darkness. You fear my rage. And I...well, I crave your fear. It's orgasmic when your skin crawls. When you pull your hair. Bash your head. Cut your skin. Whimper in horror. Gag in revulsion. And the best?

The best is you knowing that those things I do, I'm doing them with your body. It's your hands and your teeth and your strength. And my will. It doesn't get any better than this feeling, it never has, it never will.

I can't remember a time I stayed with someone, as long as I've been with you. God, Larabee, you capacity for self-hatred is phenomenal. That and your ability to delude yourself. Plant a few suggestions and next thing you know, you're in the bottle again. Leaving me free, to come and go as I please. No way am I giving you up. Especially after last night, with the one calling himself Vin Tanner.

Do you know I almost let him go? I felt you, whispering inside. Warning him away. It humored me. But then you had to go and curse at me. You know, I should have been happy that you finally acknowledged me. I'm still not sure why I got so mad.

So instead of letting Tanner go, I took my time with him. Until I finally decided to reel him in like a pathetic fish. When I grabbed him and we landed in a pile, my body on top of his, I basked in his confusion. Do you remember how the impact of the fall knocked the wind out of him?

It was good laughing at his apprehension. Feeding on his pain was energizing. And seeing those blue, blue eyes widen in rage and then fear, when I reached in your back pocket and pulled out his own knife. He went completely still then, and I giggled realizing what he was thinking. I almost let him go again. It's no fun if they don't fight.

When I leaned over him, with your body, and placed the blade close to his face, asking, "You really didn't think I was going to fuck you, did you? That's the charm of this little toy. It can't catch all those horrible diseases out there. But it still goes deep, if you know what I mean." How glorious it was to watch the color drain from his face.

He fought, so valiant, so brave. But in the end he lost. They always do. Oh, but the struggles, the yells, the cries of why...

"Why, Chris? Just tell me why?"

...just before I slipped the belt around his neck and began to twist it. Wasn't it fun when he rose to his knees, hands clawing at his neck? Fingernails scratching madly as he tried to loosen my grip. Such a shame he only succeeded in ripping his own skin.

Tanner was a sly one though. His body going limp -- I thought my job finished, allowed myself to drop my guard. And those knees of his, suddenly moving, trying to raise his body. Damn little bugger almost got loose then. It was actually amazing. With the blood loss, it should have been near impossible to him to be alive, much less moving. But then again, it was Tanner's will to live I found so attractive to begin with.

After that it was simple. A foot in the small of his back ensuring that he couldn't get his legs beneath him. The counter balance made it so easy to pull up my arms and end it.

He was beautiful, wouldn't you agree. Tongue hanging out grotesquely, swollen face purple that faded to the most wondrous shade of blue. I always thought that blue had been his color. I love it when I'm right.

The delight of that memory will resound within me always.

The hour Tanner and I spent together was so very entertaining. Although, I don't think he enjoyed it quite as much as I did. Do you know the reason wild animals begin with genitals when they tear up a carcass? It's the skin you know, the tender skin there rips so easily.

Oh, and let's not forget your abhorrence of my deeds. I enjoyed feeling you, cowering in fear, paralyzed by his screams. Making you witness it all. Knowing you were powerless to stop every slash of the blade.

Leaving Tanner's beautiful blue eyes as a gift for you was inspired. I crowed at my brilliance. The rush from your horror was sublime.

When you woke in this morning, skin tight with dried blood, hands caked with gore, foul taste in your mouth and screams ripping from your lips, know that I was there. Reminding you of your failure. You couldn't save him -- you do know that, don't you? You never had a chance.

You're worried about Tanner's body? Don't be. They'll never find it. And if they do? They'll never know it's his. It's amazing what sulfuric acid does to fragile human tissue. There won't be enough of him left to identify. I do so love this modern age.

Oh, I know you think to leave me in the darkness, to take away my toy. To place that gun against your head, to end it all. But what you don't understand, I'll only take you with me. I wish that you could conceive the power I possess. I'll find another body and you'll be trapped. Like the thousands before you.

So, go ahead, Larabee. Eat a bullet if you can. You can't deny me. I'll never leave. I am here, always.

~end~