Betrayal "Could you ever fall in love with anyone else?" She asked, her brown hair wrapped around his fingers. Her hands were resting on his bare chest. She felt his every breath, so close to her. "No… It was only ever you. I love you." He smirked. "Well, that’s new." She smiled into his neck. "What’s new?" He asked, his smile fading. "That you’ve said it. Because, if I’m honest, I love you too." She whispered. -- Kira snapped out of her daydream. A sword was swung at her head, she parried and ducked out of the way. She grinned and sliced at the stomach of her attacker. Kira’s swing connected with a huff of breath. Her sword made a beautiful connection, causing blood to fall to the ground and her attacker to stumble. -- "Why do you like me?" She asked, still curious about his feelings for her. "Love. You mean why do I love you." He corrected her, leaning forwards and brushing her hair out of her face. "Yeah, that." She said, ducking away from his battle scarred hands. "Because you’ve always been there for me." He said simply, his voice hoarse with emotion. -- Kira stepped back and plunged her sword into the back of her attacker. He was only one man, destined to die today like anyone else that attacked her. She’d been taught by the best, she was almost the best herself. Only one man could ever have beaten her; her mentor. Her mentor… -- "Ami." She asked, her voice quiet and reserved. "Yeah?" He asked, looking up from polishing a dagger. "I want to learn how to fight." She said, she smiled slightly. "Why?" He asked, his brows knitting. "So I can join you in your missions." She grinned, her brown hair bounced as she rocked on the balls of her feet. "Oh… I guess I could teach you a little. You know about plants and poisons already." He smiled, his eyes lighting up. He pulled her into a tight hug, breathing in her scent. "I could teach you some stuff you'll never forget." -- Kira smiled slightly as yet another attacker charged forwards. She threw her short blade up, it spun in the air perfectly. She leapt over the body of the dead man and caught the handle of her silver sword. She grinned as she slashed at the charging man’s legs. He fell the floor, he landed with a bone jarring thud. She flicked her wrist and the man’s throat was torn open, blood flooded out of the gash. -- "Goodbye." "What?" "Goodbye." He said again, his back to her. He stood with one hand gripping the door frame, his knuckles white. "I heard that… but what do you mean?" She asked, her voice broke in the middle of her sentence. "I have to go on another mission." He said, his eyes clenched shut. In one hand he gripped a scabbard, the other was still gripping the door. "Alone." "What? No… I - I always come with you." She whispered. "In case anything happens." "Not this time." He bowed his head and walked out the door. "I'm sorry." -- Kira looked at her blade, carved with intricate detailing on the handle and a simple Celtic knot pattern on the blade. No one else approached her, they seemed to be fearful. Rightly so. How many people had she killed with this sword? How many people had died by her hand? How many since Itami? -- "Itami." "Kira… Why are you here?" He asked, already knowing the answer. "You’re to be terminated." She said coldly, this man was still her world… But he'd broken her. She looked at him; his slim, athletic frame didn't look dangerous but he was a lethal weapon. "Oh." He said with a smirk. "Oh dear." "I thought that’d be your reply. Anyway, I'm here to terminate you." "I'm sorry, but I can’t let you." He said, his stance shifted slightly. "You don’t have to let me, I will kill you. It’s an order." She said coldly, pulling the twin blades from the scabbards at her hips. -- What was everyone waiting for? She wanted to fight, to rip and tear at the flesh of these weak men. Kira scanned the battlefield, pain and destruction lay scattered around her like the broken bodies of the dead men her task force had killed. Fresh blood permeated the soil, leaving a thick mud underfoot. She shifted on the spot, her skin tight leather armour was lightweight and not the least bit restrictive, but she knew when we was wearing it. "Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?" She looked up. That silhouette, that voice, she already knew it. She’d lived with that man, fought with him, trained with him, ate and slept with him. He was her #life… And then she killed him. "Itami?"

Drunk Man Walking "Now can I see your pain, I'm sorry. Goodbye." My voice broke. "But - You can't do this. No, baby. Please. I fucking swear I care!" The tears where running freely. I muffled a sob, trying to keep calm. "Goodbye." She said again, I could hear the pain in her voice too... This was hurting her as much as it was hurting me. I had broken her heart and now... Well, now I was paying for it. Tenfold. "No baby, please. You can't - I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry! Baby please! We can work something out." I rambled, not knowing what I was actually saying, but saying it anyway. "Goodbye, Dean." CLICK. "...please?" I threw the phone down. It was no use. She'd done it. When I needed her most. She'd done it, broken up with me. There were tears flowing down my cheeks. Warm and wet, salty and painful. I cried myself to sleep. When I woke up the next morning, I remembered the pain of last night. In my bedroom, I sat in the dark. I could hear my neighbours leaving for work. I could hear their kids watching TV before school. I stood up, opened my bedroom door. The light was so bright, I blinked a few times before I could see anything. God, was it always this bright? I stumbled into the kitchen. Half eaten meals on the side, half drunk drinks on the table. No wonder she broke up with me, I'm a slob. Fuck this. I wrenched open the fridge. Inside were four beers. Not enough, but a start. I slammed open every cupboard door. In the cupboard under the sink I found a bottle of whiskey, a bottle of vodka and a jumbo pack of fags. Perfect. I grabbed both bottles, the fags, the beers and a glass. I stumbled back into my bedroom. I turned on my TV, the morning news. I crawled into bed and cracked open a beer. Sipping it, I thought about her. She was beautiful, kind and funny. But she knew it, she knew I wasn't good enough. She cheated on me, how many times I don't know. But whenever I confronted her about it she always made ME feel like shit. I didn't do anything. She was the one who cheated, stole and lied. I lent her over a thousand bucks, and she stole a lot more. She was a - Forget it. I sipped at my beer. The news was just noise. I woke up again. I checked the clock, 1:59, am or pm? It didn't matter. I poured myself another whiskey and went back to sleep. I couldn't think of a reason to get the fuck out of bed. I opened my eyes. I couldn't see. The lights where off, the curtains closed. Am I alive or dead? I grabbed a fag, lit it and sat in the dark. My head was pounding. The time was 6:20. I turned the TV back on. ".....And more news on the fatal car crash on Tuesday night...." Ugh, I pulled the bed cover over my head. I didn't care. BANG BANG BANG "HEY! DEAN!" I surfaced. "YO DEAN" Fucking hell, Matt. "OPEN UP!" "...no...." I mumbled as I pulled the duvet over my head again. "DEAN!" "No," "OPEN THE DOOR!" For fucks sake.... "NO!" "DEEEAAANNNN!" I picked up my jeans, pulled them on and stumbled to the front door. I wrenched it open. "WHAT! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT MATT?!" Matt was standing, shocked, in the doorway. "Um..." "Fuck off Matt." I shut the door. As I ran back to my bedroom I wondered what I looked like. I walked into the bathroom and turned the light on, for the first time in a week. "Shit..." The guy in the mirror looked terrible. Huge bags under his eyes, stubble on his chin and a split lip. This wasn't me, It couldn't be. I'd changed so much.

Russian Roulette. In the white room the old blood stains are evident. Faded to an almost grey, but evident none the less. I look you in the eyes. I see fear, over whelming fear, in yours. You search my eyes for fear. For hate, worry, anxiety. Something to show I'm human. There is nothing. I see a quiver in your lip. A tremble in your voice. You react to every noise. Like a hunted animal. Look at me. I'm only a kid, right? Wrong. Dead wrong. I may be young in years, but in experiences I am ancient. I have played so many games in my #life. I have left so many bleeding corpses. One of them was my best friend. Russian roulette is a game of winners and losers. I am a winner. I don't lose. A confident smirk crosses my face as you swallow your fear. "Are you ready?" I ask, my voice cuts the silence around us. Your eyes snap to my face, once again. You nod. "We're ready." I sat calmly. A loud buzz sounds. The cage in front of us, on the cold, clinical table, popped open. This was a slightly different game to the norm. In this game there were six guns. Six guns, each with six chambers. Only one bullet. One bullet, thirty-five empty chambers. Thirty-five chances at #life. One real death. "Let's get started then." I say, almost bored. You slowly reach out your trembling hand. The cold gun metal feels weird against your over hot skin. Unyielding and hard. "Just pull the trigger fast. Get it over with." I say slowly. You nod and from your eyes drops a single tear. You're terrified. It takes all I have not to laugh at your pathetic bargaining with God. After watching so many others die, I no longer believe in God. And, even if I did he'd hate me, I'd be sent to hell. You raise the gun to your temple. Your lips still quivering, whispering that silent prayer. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, swallow the lump in your throat. And pull the trigger. -click- Empty chamber. You relax. All the tension in your body is released. All the fear is, momentarily, gone. I pick up a gun. Looking at you unwaveringly. I pull the trigger. -click- As I'd expected. Empty trigger. No one wins that easily. Die or don't. I didn't die. You start at the sound. The hollow, echoing click. It means it's your turn again. It means you're not safe any more. It means you haven't won. I smile as the fear fills you eyes again. You pick up the gun you just laid down. It's handle is still warm. You suppress a shiver as my eyes fill with a malevolent glee. I can see you sweating. It's not even a warm room. You're terrified. You raise the gun to your temple again. -click- Again. My turn now. After almost two hours I can't control myself any longer. I yawn. This game is starting to bore me. You are a pathetic, scared little child. It's disgraceful. You shouldn't have been allowed in here in the first place. Standards everywhere are slipping. Once again it is my turn. Now we are down to the last gun. The one that we'd both left alone, the gun in the centre of the table. I pick it up, feeling the weight in my palm. Realistically, I could die. Here and now. But I have a good feeling about this game. A winners' feeling. I spin the gun on one finger. I stop and look you in the eyes, once again. And again fear and despair stare back at me. I sigh. I place the gun to my temple. -click- "Oh dear." I say slowly. "Oh deary me." You look at me again. Shear terror overwhelms you. "Only two bullets left now." I slide the gun across the table. You look at it, not moving, not seeing, not even breathing. You know what will happen. One of us WILL die soon. Either you or I. You look between me and the gun. I shrug. These are the rules of the game. "Your turn." I say quietly, almost whispering. The cold gun metal touches your temple. But this is the final time. The final time. This either makes you, or kills you. This is your freedom, or your death. The trigger has never been harder, or easier, to pull. -click- You drop the gun to the table. You open your eyes. Pure wonder and disbelief fill them. I smile. "You've won." I say gravely. "Nothing left for it." I reach over the table and pick up the gun. "N-no!" You say. "No, I won. That's it. That's all. You don't need to ki-kill yourself." I smile at you. I lean towards you. "Can I tell you a secret?" I ask quietly. You lean towards me. I take this as I yes. "I know that." BANG! I lean back in my chair. And smile. A figure stands up. They make their way through the door. Blood soaked and stained. But alive. They walk from the white room and it's blood stains. They walk away from the other player, who should be dead by now. They walk down the corridor and pick up some new clothes. "Russian roulette is a game of winners and losers. I am a winner. I don't lose. I warned you."

Morning Star. Morning Star, Son of Dawn, so high in the sky. So close to the top, but never close enough. You want to be able to look God in the eye, Tell him he made you perfect in beauty and wit But he put you in the wrong place in the order, You should be highest of high, before the lord, He put you below himself, only on the border, You will make yourself god, perfection is tainted, You wish to be someone that commands millions, Bend them to your own will, follow your every whim, Your promises are meant to bend the civilians, You trap many in your honeyed words, your lies. You own a land, far under the surface of the earth, Or maybe inside our minds and our souls, a latent evil. A pocket of evil kept within us, from our very birth, And kept until our death, until we go to hell to meet you. You're perfect in beauty, the seal of perfection, You steal from the lord what you couldn't create yourself, You take what you deserve, in your mind, they're an infection, A pawn in a game of chess between two gods.

Angels And Demons Her eyes were so perfect, so pure, so serene. Like the sea on a clear, calm day. Not grey, not green but that perfect water blue that you can only find on certain days. But looking into those eyes, I noticed one thing and one thing only; she could see into my soul. I felt, in that second, my entire #life’s work crumbling around me. My walls, my cast iron walls that stopped so many people before her, just collapsed. They fell away as though they were gossamer curtains. I guess you could say I am an idiot, I know I am. I should’ve turned around and run then, or I should have learnt what she would do to me… But no, I stayed. I stayed with her, for hundreds of years. I loved her, with my heart and soul. I loved her completely, she was my everything. The bond that held us together was too strong for anything to break it when we were together. She was beautiful angel and I loved her. The fire of passion soon burnt down and settled into a warm, glowing ember. But my demon’s blood, however, could not stand this. It drove me to destruction. I lived each day, asking myself why I should do such things as my blood craved. My blood sang for war, fire, pain, death, hate and chaos. I gave in, of course I gave in. I gave in to the needs of my blood and I feasted on the chaos I created. The fire inside me was kindled once again. Where once had been passion and love lay nothing but bitterness and hate. Not hate " you must know " of my angel, never, but hate of myself. Soon I realised I couldn’t be who I was, who I truly was " a demon " without hurting my angel. So, I talked to her about it. I spoke to her about it all; every thought I had about us, it’s pathetic now. But then, it meant something. She told me that I would never be happy without destruction. I could never be happy without destroying everything. And she said that she’d never allow me to destroy while I was with her, I would never allow myself to destroy anything properly. I knew she was right. So, I left. I had no choice. Staying would hurt me and then her but this was only a temporary solution. That’s all. That’s all I thought it was. I travelled. First to London, I stayed for a decade, I killed a few men. It didn’t satisfy me. Then to Milan, forty three years here, nothing I did there made me feel any better. I went to China for twenty years, still nothing. Everything I did seemed hollow and empty. Nothing seemed to make me feel better or ignite the fire inside me. Nothing worked. I didn’t understand it. My mind travelled back to my angel, my perfect angel. Maybe it was the years apart but I began to remember her differently. She wasn’t the pure angel I knew back then, at least not in my mind. She’d been warped into something that I began to hate. I began to hate her, and myself for loving her. I knew that she was the reason I was numb. I knew she was the reason I was hurting. I just knew it. Hindsight is a beautiful thing really. I look back now and I wish to the highest power that I could go back and change my mind then. I wish to heaven, hell and all the stars in the sky that I could make my past self change the course that I took then. If only… Even we demons cannot change the past. In my blind rage, I tracked her down. Like a dog on the scent. I found her in LA. She was healing a puppy. A puppy. Nothing important, just a puppy. She was making it better for the little girl who own that puppy. I felt sick, all of her actions made me feel sick. Everything she did. Everything she said. It made me feel sick. I was disgusted with her. But as things are, I wouldn’t remain that way for long. She looked up and saw me, not having changed for the years we’d been apart. She ran towards me, her smile was effortless but I saw only a cruel sneer. She fell into my arms, pushing her body against mine. I caught her but I didn’t return her greeting. Instead, I pushed my dagger into her stomach. I pulled it along, hearing it rip her skin and intestines. A smile, small and crooked, crossed my face. She gasped, gripping my shirt. I looked down into her face and, in her big, beautiful eyes, I saw my reflection. I realised then what I'd done, how pathetic I was. What had I done to my angel? She whispered my name, her sweet breath on my neck. What... What had I done? I remember picking her up and running with her cradled in my arms. Those pathetic humans ran and screamed. All I could focus on was the fact that she was dead and I was drenched in her blood. I ran and I ran. I don't remember how long I ran for. A few days probably. I would've run forever but I didn't. I ended up somewhere. Somewhere in the middle of America. I don't know where, all I know is that -- right there -- was where my heart shattered into pieces that I couldn't ever repair. Finally.