2 A. M. Visitor

Part 6 : Capture

Twenty four hours is a long time. Twenty four hours is not a long time. Twenty four hours is not enough time to grow to love someone. Donavan Roe is in love and it's killing him. Not physically but emotionally, it is as if leeches were attached to his body draining him of his new found hope, it's a painfully slow process. It had inspired in him an almost self destructive urge to run from the two men who seemed so keen in their need to understand his circumstances. But only viewed him as a means to an end. He had heard their conversation, knew his worth to them which wasn't much it seemed.

Walking barefoot past white painted houses through suburban landscapes he didn't know. It didn't take him long to realize he was lost. Perfectly cut lawns, abandoned bicycles too small for him to ride offered no advantage in his desire to be as far away from Valiant Teague or that man with the blue hair. It was midday, people were still at work so him stalking around their homes went largely unnoticed. It took him back to his teenage days, days he hates to think about. There had been many nights he had snuck out windows in his father's home barefoot with nothing to his person. Fresh bruises and welts burning along his skin beneath his clothes, but now there weren't friends he could turn to.

"Just turn around, go back and let him lie to you again. Get your phone, get your boots and leave just like with Dennis." He thought as he stopped at a house painted blue with a chain link fence and a sleeping Pitbull. The thought of Dennis Roe a shorter version of him sent a small flash of panic through him even now five years after the man's death. He remembers the way Dennis had held him down. Smacking and punching him while his voice wet from the cheap corner store vodka shouted.

"You killed her! You killed your mother.you you you"

That was in the past, the panic took a moment to return to the Pandora's box in the corner of his mind. Once he could breathe normally, he turned and started his trek back to the home of the man who hadn't cared about him.

Morrigan

She had watched the plaything come bursting out of the modest two story home sooner than she had expected. The tall, beautiful man with brown hair shaggy on top and shaved close to the scalp on the sides. Seeing him run, tears glistening in the afternoon sun had been a treat. Morrigan had been in the superficially furnished living room of a house across the street, sitting on the red suede couch in the form of the woman whose corpse lay at her bare feet. Deep gashes from her fingers poking through soft skin and finding organs to puncture still made her chuckle. It always stunned her how humans had inherited the planet, they were so gosh darn fragile to her.

After consuming enough blood to feel the woman's soul unwillingly stitch itself to her own, she had let the body of the homeowner across the street recede into her. As if a canvas being painted her body shifted, bones growing as her skin expanded, her body changes to that of this Flora Cheshire woman. She was tall in this form, with larger hips than the once form fitting jeans could bare. She had a hard time taking the jeans off if she were honest with herself. So she had walked up the carpeted stairs to the second story nude from the shirt down. She Ignores the rooms that smelled of children til she came to Flora's. She had rifled through the woman's wardrobe til she settled on a white blouse and blue skirt. It was a shame this body didn't have the cleavage to go with the hips, but necessity required she didn't adjust it.

Once dressed, she had come down the stairs and watched a tall, attractive blue haired man who appeared as something more than human. He was tasty to look at. She couldn't hear his heart beat, but his blue haired beard made her want to feel it. Run her fingers through it, and those full lips made her salivate. A thought of Nemo and all lust vanished. He wouldn't take kindly to any deviation from her directive. So she had sat on the couch and waited patiently.