Broken (The Captive #5.5)(78)
Pulling himself upright, he rose to his feet and pushed the straggling strands of wet hair back from his face. The tug and pull of the waves caused his body to sway as they washed in and out of the shore. His fingers curled into a claw-like gesture, he fought the urge to tear his skin from his body, but he lost. Shedding his clothes, he tossed them onto the sandy beach. The water was cool against his bare skin but he found nothing refreshing about it. His hands began to rub vigorously up and down his arms before spreading to his torso and finally his legs in an attempt to scrub the feel of Anna's body from his. Lunacy swirled through his mind as a knot of disgust lodged in his throat.
He continued to scrub and tear at himself but no matter how much he tried, he couldn't rid himself of the feel of her. Nor could he deny that the only way he had been able to touch her was by doing the one thing he'd sworn he wouldn't. He had pictured Genny while he was with her. He'd done everything he could to keep her from entering his mind, but his revulsion of Anna had only grown to the point where he'd almost retreated from the room. The only way he'd felt any kind of arousal was when he brought Genny to the forefront of his mind.
A betrayal, that's what it had been, but he couldn't deny that during that brief time he'd been able to pretend that it really was her. That life was the way that it should have been instead of so hideously wrong. Now it was over and with reality once again upon him, Genny was still gone, and he'd just sullied her memory in order to consummate his hideous sham of a marriage. Self-hatred swamped him; the water running down his skin had become red. He'd scoured himself raw and torn the flesh from his body in some areas but he still felt dirty.
Glancing around the beach, he realized he didn't recognize where he was. There were some villas in the distance, with candles flickering in the windows. The water and blood dripped from his body as he emerged from the sea and gathered his clothes. He dressed again before making his way down the beach. He didn't know if he was heading in the right direction and he didn't care. He didn't even care about the irritating grains of sand that rubbed against his healing skin and stuck annoyingly to his flesh.
He'd gone about a mile down the beach before coming across two human peasant girls. Their clothing was dirty and disheveled, their hair was pinned on top of their heads but strands of it had straggled down to frame their faces. They appeared to have just gotten off of work.
"Excuse me sir, is all alright?" the small blond asked him.
Atticus stood and stared at them as he tried to sort through the chaotic thoughts swirling through his brain. The insanity that had been whispering at the edges of his mind over the past few months called even louder to him now. He'd been keeping it under control but he could feel the unraveling within him even more strongly tonight.
"Sir?" the small brunette squeaked. "Do you need assistance sir?"
His hands fisted as he glanced back and forth between them. "Can we help you sir?" the other one asked.
The last little bit of his sanity unraveled as his finger touched upon the gold band on his finger. "Oh yes, you can help me," he said in a low voice.
Again he questioned if it was his pretty face that kept them standing there, looking uncertain and yet unafraid until he was upon them. The brunette was never able to make a sound before he grabbed her by the throat and lifted her off the ground. The blond released a small squeak as he dragged her forward, but it was the only sound she got out before he buried his fangs into the vulnerable flesh of her neck.
Her hands beat ineffectually against him, the brunette's feet kicked uselessly in the air as he drained every ounce of blood from her friend's body. Power seeped into him as her life force rolled down his throat and the madness in his mind was appeased by the blood filling him. To keep the monster at bay, he must do more than feed he realized as the pulse of her heart slowed and finally stopped.
His head fell back as he pulled away from her and let her body drop to the ground. He hadn't killed since that night with Genny, and then he'd been too lost to the rage to feel any kind of release. He felt it now though. Not only did death keep the monster at bay but it also gave him power, power he would need in order to accomplish his goal. The events of tonight had caused him to waver in his ultimate purpose but he would never let that happen again.
The brunette tried to scream, she thrashed in his grasp as he turned his attention to her. Her eyes bulged and her kicking became more frantic. Her fingers tore at his hands enough to cause him to bleed when he smiled to reveal his lengthy canines. "Hideous rodents, all of you," he whispered before pulling her close and sinking his fangs into her throat.
Relief filled him as he drained the blood from her body. Death, it was what he required in order to thrive.
***
December 13th, 1050
My dearest Genny,
The only time I find any sense of peace now is in the few minutes I can lose myself to the blood I spill and the death I create. It's not something I'm proud of but I'm also not ashamed anymore. I simply just am. I guess that's the only way to describe what I have become. Just here.
I get up, I do what I must, and I go to sleep. I think of you, constantly.
I have no concerns about being caught in my new, nightly excursions. It is easy enough to make a body disappear or to make a murder look like it was done by a human. It is the vampires that completely lose themselves to the blood, and become careless, that get caught. I will never allow myself to become like that, I would fail in my mission if I did so. And all that matters anymore is the mission. I don't hunt near my home and even if someone sees me going out, I am allowed to do as I please. I don't pay to kill in the clubs; no one can know that there's even a little bit of a murderer living inside of me. We all know who the killers are amongst us; it is not a secret that is well kept amongst the club patrons.