[Sensitivity warning: contains strong language, slight gore, implied sex, suicide, angst material in general.]
I see you coming.
Your figure blurred in the rain.
I’m lying in a pool of water down the street, wrapped in a white cloth.
Shaking from the cold.
The mere sight of me repulses you.
This pitiful creature once your enemy.
I sputter, my lips barely able to pronounce the words.
But you won’t. Instead you pick me up, like a child.
Always such a goddamned hero. I clench my teeth.
“I hate you,” I whisper in your ear as you carry me home. Again and again. “I hate you. I hate you.” Either you’re not listening, or you do not care.
You lay me down on the couch to dry, like an old piece of wood. Feed me by force, not even trying to conceal the disgust on your face. You don’t want to touch me. Yet you cradle me like a baby. You loathe my whimpering, my apathetic stares. Still you can’t take your eyes off mine.
In the small hours of the night, I drift off to sleep in your arms. We share a pleasant dream about the sunflower fields of home. When I wake up I can taste sour metal in my mouth.
“Give me one reason not to blow your fucking brains out,” you whisper, standing above me. The hand with the gun is shivering. You have felt it. You know that I’m venomous.
So what should I say? I shrug. I don’t have an answer.
After a while you curse loudly, throw your weapon away and storm off into your room.
I don’t sleep much for the rest of the night.
Weeks pass by slowly. I cling to your presence, neglecting life. I refuse to eat, throw away most of the food you offer me and vomit up the rest. I starve, over and over. No matter. Only by staying this weak I can earn your pity. Only by remaining a ghost I can be allowed to live in you. By gaining access to your most cherished memories, I sate my own, painful incapability to feel. When using your emotions, I can remind myself of being human. It’s almost real.
The closer I come to your world, the weaker you become. You grow forgetful. Stop locking the doors after you. Almost as if you want me, as if you dare me to enter.
Just inside your bedroom, you’ve built a tower of empty liquid bottles. The poison is taking over your mind. I stay up all night, listening to you having nightmares. You writhe and moan among the sheets. There is nothing I can do to help. I know I’m making it worse by being here, curled up so close to your vulnerable heart. But I can’t stop. I’m high on the sensation of being alive again. Every night I crawl down beside you, enjoying the sensation of skin against skin. I am cold, cold as stone, while you are feverishly hot. I caress your veins slowly.
Who kissed first? No one would admit it, but once we’ve started we can’t stop. You press your body tight against mine and I drink your pain greedily. Entering a symbiosis of lust we give ourselves to each other, becoming one. I cry of pain, I cry for more. Our nest is covered in sweat and fear and passion and longing and when you call out my name it sounds like poetry.
I’m familiar with the ways of nature. I know the stronger host kills the weaker eventually. Hence I shouldn’t be surprised when I find you lying against the wall, bathing in crimson red. The wounds on your wrists are gaping hollow, smirking at me.
“How dare you?” I yell as I drag your lifeless body trough the corridor, leaving a thick trail of blood behind. “How very fucking dare you try yo leave me like that!” My fragile body fails me. My feet slip in the warm blood. I collapse on the floor.
“God damn you!”
I barely notice that I’m crying. This emotion thing must have gone too far. I shouldn’t bother. I shouldn’t fret. What is this, but a beautiful cage of flesh to mourn over? Another life claimed. Another death on my cursed existence. Not allowed to love, not allowed to feel for another.
And I do.
Such is the life of a parasite.
The inspiration for this came from a wonderful piece of fanfiction written by http://vxctoriano.tumblr.com/. Thank you for letting me adapt your work, and I hope you like this.
Ps. This is fiction.