by Baconwizard » 01/25/2015 10:06 PM
Ava's sleep was deep and dark, dragging her down into strange dreams that she wouldn't be able to remember clearly. Sencha, smiling at her with that sleepy, lazy smile of his, as they sat on the floor of her kitchen eating cake. Sencha, suddenly a monster, blood dripping from his fangs and long, ivory claws. Cyril was there, gasping for breath, a slick hand pressing up against the gashes in his sides. Ava's dream self tried to go to Cyril, to help him somehow, but she couldn't. Sencha had taken all of her energy, and she couldn't move; she had to watch as the giant beast stalked closer to Cyril. Laughter was coming from the creature, but it was human laughter. It sounded so familiar, so dear, but it was wrong, wrong, wrong. Then Sencha attacked again. Every slash from the demon's claws, every tear made by the demon's razor teeth felt like a spear stabbing in Ava's chest. She needed to wake up; she knew she had to wake up from the spell Sencha had put her under–she had to help Cyril–but her dream self couldn't move. Sencha's eyes stared at her, glittering balefully, absolutely nothing like the sweet friend she thought she knew. The laughter grew louder, drowning out all sound until Ava couldn't even hear herself screaming.
The apartment was dim, all the lights turned off, but the mid-afternoon sun shone through the cracks in the blinds, illuminating the floor like a spotlight. The clock on the wall ticked rhythmically on the wall above Ava's head. It was her old clock, the one designed to look like a color wheel. The sounds of traffic leaked into the quiet of the apartment building. In the rooms beyond, a faucet was running, a deep voice humming softly a tuneless song. Ava couldn't move, couldn't move her eyes away from what she knew was there in front of her. There was blood everywhere. The rug covering the floor was soaked with it. She'd have to clean it up soon. The body couldn't stay in the apartment, and neither could they. Ava turned away, feeling as if she'd vomit, nausea crawling up inside of her. The faucet turned off, and footsteps crew close, the humming growing louder. Ava shut her eyes, not wanting to see him. Even with blood splattering his white shirt, he would still be beautiful. His voice would be rough from use, but it would still hold that kind tone as he knelt down to ask her if she was alright. But all Ava could hear anymore was the laughter, echoing off the walls of the apartment as he straddled the thing that used to be a person and stabbed and stabbed and stabbed and stabbed until it was just the mess left on the middle of the floor in Ava's apartment. Opening her eyes, Ava would nod, give Cyril a weak smile, lie, and say that she was fine.
When Ava woke up, she was crying, and she was alone. Rubbing at her eyes, she tried to recall her dream, confused and extremely groggy. Thoughts came back to her in a slow trickle. Cyril. Sencha. Demons. She fell asleep. Cyril. Ava blinked, looking around her bedroom. The house was quiet. Her heart suddenly leaping in her chest, Ava scrambled to get out of bed, quickly moving into the hallway. Did he leave already? Did he get himself taken care of? His injuries had been so bad... Breathing fast with panic, Ava ran towards the kitchen, hoping–praying–that Cyril would be in there.
To you I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world.
To you, I shall be unique in all the world....
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