Malevolence

source: Tumblr
source: Tumblr

She turns away from the freezing sleet and pulls the hood of her belted coat over her bare head. Her hands go back inside her pockets, her fingers automatically sliding along the blade of the box cutter she keeps there. Pressing lightly on the razor edge for comfort, releasing a quick gasp of pain-slash-pleasure as she feels a cut open up on her fingertip.

She is a small girl, far too delicate-looking to be alone on a bus stop at midnight. But there she was, and passersby tend to shy away from her because of something they can’t quite place. Maybe her eyes are too intense. Maybe her cupid’s-bow mouth is too inviting. Maybe it was because she emanates a malevolent aura of darkness that sucks people in, never letting them out.

The girl bites her lower lip. She needs to kill, and so far she is having lousy luck.

A bus screeches to a halt in front of the stop, and a boy staggeres out. He is red-cheeked from the cold. His skin is sallow and there are shadows under his blood-shot eyes.

The girl smiles a secret smile. There is her victim.

***

The boy is a completely a normal person. He is in his second year of medical school, and he lives a mostly uneventful yet happy life. But all of that changed one day when he accidentally took the wrong bus route and met her.

It is a dark and snowy night, the perfect setting for a horror story. He is worrying over his final exams and all he wants to do is go home, eat a bowlful of noodles, and collapse in a deep and dreamless sleep. He is so exhausted that he accidentally takes the wrong bus, but he figures out that he would just take a cab at the end of the stop. It isn’t that far away from home, after all.

The bus is mostly empty, but there are a few fellow late-night passengers scattered here and there.

Passenger number one is a young girl with mint green hair. She has earphones plugged into her ears, and she is looking intently at something on her phone.

Passengers number two and three are a couple. They are disgustingly cute, holding hands and whispering to each other. Now and then, the girl would giggle, and the guy would blush.

He gets off from the bus at the last stop, shivering as a blast of Arctic wind blows past him. He heads for the dimly-lit waiting shed, hoping to flag down a cab. As he approaches, he notices the girl.

Tiny, pale, delicate-looking. A girl who should definitely be safe indoors, not out in the cold.

He heads directly toward her, and is surprised when she looks at him directly and smiles.

At that moment, he should have known that there was something wrong in the picture. But he does not, and he sits down beside her and tries to start a conversation by saying “Hey.”

***

“Cold night, isn’t it?” The boy greets her, wrapping his Polartec jacket around his lean but muscular frame even tighter. His lips are turning blue from the cold, and he looks dead already – it makes her feel a spark of sudden lust at the though of him dying beneath her.

“It is,” she answers softly, looking up at him through her long, thick, unfairly hypnotizing fringe of eyelashes.

He blushes. “What’s a pretty girl like yourself doing out here all alone?”

She tilts her head to one side, surveying him with an unreadable expression on her face. “I live near here,” she finally says, her lips curving into a coy smile. “If you need some place warm to stay…”

He laughs and shakes his head in bemusement. “Now wait a minute. How are you sure that I’m not heading home right now?”

The girl shrugs, her long, dark wavy hair falling luxuriously over her shoulder. Her tiny red mouth parts in a smile that exposes a row of small, pointed teeth.

“There are no other houses here,” she informs him.

He sighs, shoving his hands inside his pockets. His breath steams in the dry, cold air. “Aren’t you scared that I might be a serial killer or something?”

The girl twirls a lock of her hair around her little finger and gives him a slow smile. “I’ve always wanted to meet a serial killer,” she tells him confidentially, leaning forward.

He stops to take a good look at her. The girl is wrapped in an oversized black hooded coat. Underneath she is wearing a thin white sundress and nothing else. Her legs and feet are bare, her dark hair tumbling wildly around her shoulders and face.

The girl touches his lips to silence him, and the boy’s eyes look at hers in askance.

The temperature plummets. The noise whites out. Everything else fades into oblivion.

Her huge, dark eyes are pupil-less and have no visible white sclera. They blink up slowly at him, sending a wave of powerlessness washing through his body.”Come home with me?” She whispers, holding out a small, pale hand.

The boy feels confused. He tries to turn his head to see what the hell was going on, but the girl reaches out to caress his cheek. He exhales, a small sigh escaping his lips as he leans into her hand and closes his eyes.

Run away, run away, run away.

His brain is screaming at him, but he doesn’t care. All that exists for him is this girl and her wonderfully soothing caresses, her radiant beauty.

At that moment, he ceases to exist from the world.

He takes her cold hand, feeling helpless and peculiarly overpowered by her presence. “Yes,” he answers in a stupor, although his brain is urging him to get the fuck out of there.

She stand up, her head barely reaching his shoulder. She laces her fingers through his, and pulls him into the shadows.

***

The moment they got inside the house, he lifted her up and pressed her against the wall, burying his hands in her hair and kissing her hard on the mouth. She wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him back hungrily, clamping her teeth on his tongue and drawing blood.

The taste of the blood made her even more urgent, and she broke free from the kiss, shoving his head to one side and raking her teeth down the length of his exposed neck. He groaned hoarsely, gripping her shoulders as if they were a lifeline and he was drowning. He ripped off her coat, slipped his hands under her sundress, and ran his palms up and down her back.

She took off his shirt and began biting and kissing her way down his chest and torso. He slowly slid her down the wall until they were on the floor, and she made her way on top of him while he lay helpless underneath.

“What now?” he asked, his lips red with blood and his throat flushed with bites.

She looked at him with a heated expression, her lips curling up into a smirk. Her hand skimmed his abdomen, hooking her thumb on the waistband of his pants and pulling one side down slightly. He gave a quick gasp as she lowered herself and brushed her lips over his hip.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, trying to restrain himself.

“As sure as you’re going to die,” she whispered back, leaning over him, the box cutters suddenly, confusingly, disconcertingly in her hand.

“What the fuck?” He tried to stand, to fight her off, but she was already standing over him and surveying the damage she had done. He was bleeding from multiple cuts all over his wrists, neck and abdomen, and a pool of dark crimson was soaking the carpet underneath.

The boy gave a choked cry of shock and revulsion as the girl watched him struggle, running her small tongue over the box cutter blade. “You look so good like that,” she said, her breath hitching, her eyes wide and bright.

“Demon,” he gasped trying to crawl away, far away, from the girl. But she stopped him and lay down on the floor with him, turning his face to hers and kissing him softly, licking his lips over and over again to get all of the blood off them. She was caressing his back, stroking his hair affectionately, lovingly pressing her body against his as he bled to death.

“Mmm,” she moaned softly, her lips pressed against his ear. “You taste so good, you feel so good…”

“What are you planning to do to me?” He asked, mustering all of the strength left in him.

She looked up at him coyly, pausing from sucking on the cut on his wrist before answering. “I’m going to kill you,” she answered lightheartedly. “Then I’m going to go outside, wait for another boy, and kill again.”

He wanted to run. He wanted to stand up, grab her by the hair and beat the hell out of her. But she was working some strange magic and he had no will to get up and fight.

The girl was getting increasingly more turned on the more he bled out. She was now biting his hipbone while skimming his thigh. He heard her unzip his pants, and the last conscious thought that he had before passing out from an overpowering wave of lust and blood loss was that, all in all, it wasn’t such a bad way to die.

***

I take out my blade and stab him in the stomach. He is too stunned to respond, his beautiful green eyes opening in surprise. He makes no sound. Blood starts to stream from the wound and drench the front of his jacket.

Before he could protest I slide the blade in again and twist it cruelly. His blood is pouring out now, hot and energizing. It makes me feel a stirring of lust deep in my gut.

“Why?” He whispers.

I only smile slightly and shake my head. I pull his limp body closer to mine and take his hand comfortingly. He squeezes my hand as his dying gasps start to fade. I can feel his life drain and mine replenish.

“I like the way you look when you’re at the brink of death,” I tell him gently.

He doesn’t answer.

His eyes close and his hand grows slack.

***

He wakes up in a dark room. There’s a searing pain in his stomach, and his head pounds with hunger and disorientation.

He’s aware that the girl is nearby, because he can feel her presence and hear her humming to herself. His confused brain somehow detects and recognizes the song as the Scarborough Fair Canticle, which strikes him as a strange choice.

“Are you going to Scarborough Fair?” sings the girl. “Parsley, sage, rosamary and thyme…

He turns to his side, gasping as his wounds open up again. He bears the pain and tries to crawl away unnoticed. The door at the end of the room is wide open.

Remember me to one who lives there,” she continues. Her voice is low and sweet. “He once was a true love of mine.”

He almost makes it all the way to the door when the singing stops.

“Oh, hello. You’re awake again!” The girl flutters over to him and sits down by his side. Her fingers smooth away the strands of hair over his eyes. She lifts his face to meet hers, and he is once again struck by her beauty.

“What are you?” He whispers.”Why are you doing this to me?”

The question seems to throw her into a loop.

She stares at him for a few seconds, then seems to shake away the uncertainty completely. “I don’t know,” she answers slowly, biting her lip. She looks unsure of herself for a moment, then her former sunny mood returns in full force. “Who cares? All I know is that hurting you makes me feel good about myself.”

The boy closes his eyes. He’s too exhausted to process this.

“Poor darling,” she says, leaning down and kissing him softly, sensuously. His heartbeat starts to slow down, and his pulse returns to normal. A surge of warmth engulfs his entire being. This, at least, is nice.

“Are you ready to begin again?” She whispers, pulling away from the kiss. The box cutters are already in her hand.

***

When my blade sinks its last jab into his side, I feel an exhilarating rush of pleasure. He stares at me in mingled surprise, horror and disbelief. His mouth, wet and slick with blood, forms the word “Why?”

It’s the second time he’s asked that.

What a silly question.

You don’t just ask someone why they’re killing you.

But to answer it, it’s because of the colour of his soul. I can see souls, and his is black as night – a sure sign of corruption. And since I am an angel, I’m trying to make things right by killing these kinds of people.

When I pull my hand and my knife away, I expect his blood to be black, because he’s an evil person and therefore is different, is special. But my hand and my blade are a dark, pulsing crimson.

He whimpers. His eyes are panicked. He presses his trembling hands to his wounds, but they’re too numerous and he’s too weak.

“I don’t want to die,” he sobs, falling to his knees and grabbing at my legs. “Please, d-dont leave me here.”

I pet his head lovingly. “Shh. It’s all over now. Just stay calm and enjoy the feeling.” I sit down on the floor and pull him closer, resting his head on my lap.

I stroke his hair.

“Can you describe it to me?” I ask wistfully. “Tell me what death feels like.”

He doesn’t answer. His eyes are open and staring unseeingly at the ceiling. Maybe he’s already dead.

I sigh in mild exasperation.

Typical.

***

The boy coughs and wakes up in a hospital bed. A man is sitting in a dark corner of the room, and for one moment of pure confusion, he thinks he sees a pair of black wings protruding from the man’s back.

“You’re awake,” the man states noncommittally.

“Who are you?” The boy asks weakly, his eyelids drooping and blurring his vision. For a second, he thinks he sees the girl’s face, but when he blinks, there is nothing but shadow.

“That’s not important.” The man stands up and faces the window. His hair is long and black, and his shoulders are slender and sharply planed, clothed in an expensive black suit. “I saved you this once, but I cannot interfere again. A word of advice, though – stay away from angels next time. Can you promise that?”

The boy ignores the stranger and stares at the ceiling.

So that was an angel.

If that was an angel, he wonders what heaven is like.

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