FIC: A Mark of my Own (Original)

[Slash Mel <slash_mel@xxxxxxxxx>]

TITLE: A Mark of my Own
AUTHOR: Slash Mel
EMAIL: slash_mel@xxxxxxxxx
SUMMARY: No more doubts for a jealous lover.
NOTE 1: This is an original fic inspired by a poem in
Spanish named "Delirio". It's exactly the same
situation and almost the same words (yet translated)
but I dropped in some ideas of my own.
NOTE 2: It's kinda dark but it's like the perfect
wrapping to some paper I've been researching for.
Don't ask unless you want to be grossed out! *joke*

+++++

In a pool of blood, she's lying all sprawled.
Perfectly still and in complete silence... Her eyes
are open, really open, wide open! And she's staring at
me with a vacated look. No love, no hate, no fear no
bitterness. Just slight irony and tenderness colouring
her irises.

There's a long knife hanging from my tired fingers in
my right hand, and I also realize silence is
everywhere around me. Sudden fear and anxiousness
start gripping tight at my heart, increasing their
hold with every passing second. And there's still this
knife blending with my hand, sticky and coated by her
drying blood... Her virginal, goddess worthy blood.

I wish I knew what had just transpired among us. If it
was like reaching Heaven or dropping dead into the
confines of Hell. All I know is I noticed the way her
embrace had lost it's usual strenght, the way her eyes
were no longer mirroring my own and heard the distinct
sound of treason oozing from her words. So I had to
know, I needed to know if another blood hadn't taken
prisoner her soul!

And then, when the signs started to fade and her
hitching breath hinted her regret, I made sure those
despicable looks imprinted in her eyes, and those
foreign kisses traced on her lips, would never return
by imprinting and tracing an eternal mark of my love.

+++++

It was midnight when we sat alone in front of that
store, the soft whisper of wind reaching my ears, the
heat from her body and the smell of her hair causing
me a sensory overload. The soft light of the moon
playing tricks with her luscious locks, whenever the
satellite decided to come out from behind a group of
dark clouds. As usual, she was babbling about how
beautiful life is and not for the first time I had to
agree, because life is beauty for certain. Yet this
time her voiced thoughts triggered an immense sadness,
because you know, it's a pity such beauty would't last
long. So I started wondering about Death.

And she kept talking, stressing her words with sudden
movements of her hands, somethimes clasping mine and
sometimes drying sweat beads from my brow.

Death, death, death was all I could utter for a word
and then she suddenly stopped, having noticed my
whispered mantra, and she was watching me intently,
fear clearly written on her face. It was then when I
noticed more than ever, a hidden reflection of someone
else's love in her gorgeous eyes... Many chills took
upon my spine and I felt as if I had suddenly died and
gone up, or probably down, and then... I don't know, I
wish I could tell.


+++++

In a pool of blood her sprawled body remains.
Completely silent and eternally asleep, yet her eyes
are open, really open, wide open! And she's looking at
me like just the dead can. No love, no pain, no
pleasure, no hate, a little irony and withering traces
of tenderness.

There's still the same long knife in my hand and
silence is still surrounding us, anxiousness and fear
keep growing and ripping me as I stare in despair at
her blood dried onto my palm.

But oh goodness, I've certainly met joy when I placed
one last caress on limbs just gone cold, witnessed the
dying embers of that betraying soul, and erradicated
those imprinted looks and those betraying kisses from
my beloved's prone form, by placing instead a mark of
my own.



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