Venom

6: Following Forever

[Authors Note:

Depending on the start of the chapter that's how you know who's point of view it is. My bad for not mentioning that before.
Bold-Venom
Whatever this is, completely forgot- Mykela. ]

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Time. Some wishing they had more while some wished they had less. Yet the concept remains the same. Time is of the essence. Do what you must with what you have been given. Which is exactly why time is such a tricky concept for those who are not aware of the simple truth of time. 

The truth of time is this: Those with time will never have enough of it to do as they wish and those with little will do with it more than what they realize because time exists only in a measurement of mentality. 

You do not measure love in time, but rather passion and pain.

You do not measure pain in time but rather in depth and desperation.

And most importantly, you do not measure life in time.

But if you do not measure life in time, then what do you know of the life you have and just to what extent you have actually come into contact for that which you claim as yours? 

I have wandered for far too long, I mused to myself, watching from across the dimly lit room as her chest rose and fell rapidly. Beads of perspiration and a fine sheet of sweat covered her bare skin, covering her in what appeared as a golden hue as the fire crackled and spit at the end of her bedside. I knew it wasn't the fires warmth or heat that made her miserably uncomfortable.

It could be the memories that flooded and blended into her mind in an unstoppable film like montage where the choice was to watch and learn and relive. There was a cruel irony to that last thought. Perhaps it was the the main personality overriding this new one, this shy and falsely fragile creature who had lived trapped in bliss only to be awakened by a horrid truth that would break the weakest of minds. To know that the self you thought real was merely a shell for a body you, yourself would take over? Far to cruel for my taste. Well, at least in regards for her, that is. It might have even been the deeply hidden knowledge that made her body break out in shivers, as her mind and body rekindled with her will. But no, I knew it was none of those things, none responsible for her pain.

It was my venom coursing through her body. It was me. I was the enemy. 

Her enemy. 

As always.

Wretched bitterness filled me, like claws that tore into prey, my chest felt ravaged. An all to familiar emotion when it came to dealing with her. Along with others which I had no say over. 

The light of the fire made shadows dance around the room, illuminating it in dance of wild passion and warmth and light. I neither wanted nor needed the light.  I could see just as well in the darkness of the cabin as I would see if every light had been turned on. Every nook and cranny that could have given off light was completely covered and darkened. I commanded a false relaxation over my body, commanding my hands to relax their grip over my hand rests in my chair, to unbury my fingers from the rough leather and to lean back. To  watch.

My venom did many things, has done many things, none of which are things I take pride in. But the one thing my venom does not do is let someone life.

Except for her. She is the only exception. Has been the only exception. Will always be.

But it was a victory that came at a price she was not willing to pay and thus a price I was suffering for. I understood her reason, even admired them even if at the end of the day they coiled around my throat and choked the sanity out of me little by little.  Desperation was an art in its own way that only became admired with time. Time which morphed the viewer and not the art.