Ruin Maketh Me

63 - Half in Half out

     Tidal waves, in out, in and out, and warmth, and everything's so beautiful, everything's shining as they should in the glorious embrace of heaven. Yes, that's it, this must be heaven or hell, either one, it doesn't matter. It's time I get to be in peace.
     No, no, there's something wrong in all of this.
     Something like pain and going up in flames, and burning, burning from an untouchable fire that screams to engulf me whole like the beast that it is. This place is full of blinding light and blooming flowers and something WRonG invading my immortal, yet transient body, but everything's soft, and I don't want to move. The light is so all-encompassing, it'll save me just by being looked at and wished for.
     But no, that's the drug speaking.
     Drug? But surely this is all real? It's absurd to think what my eyes see, what my nose smells, what my ears hear and what my skin feels are merely shadows cast by imaginary objects. If I cannot trust my own senses anymore, what else can I trust? Wouldn't I be living in a dream no matter whether it's here or anywhere else? The scattering and converging petals, the silent words of the sun... The fire smouldering and extinguishing, smouldering and extinguishing in the depths of me again and again like a red signal. And pain, pain that I cannot seem to reach with my hands even though it's present within this realm. There, just beyond the bulging, flexible barrier of warped silk, it's behind there, everything.
      And the fire grips me by the shoulder, and even though it's holding me tightly and trailing up and down, the white petals don't burst into flames. They still flutter around me, unbothered, unsullied by the lick of the fire. I push away, sweep at the orange flames, but I cannot touch them, they too are just beyond the thin barrier like the rest of the pain. Something important. Something more important than the spectral dance of light and contentment.
     But what can be more important than this blissful void?
     I follow the flickering fragrance, but. But the fire's burning me up, it's consuming my flesh like there's no other fuel but my skin. It won't let me be in peace, it's the thing that's wrong, and it shouldn't be here, not in my heaven.
     All nuisances should just go away and let me alone.
     Do you want me to chase it away?
     And I see It. It's here with me, closer than It's ever been, and It grips my hand, slides It's fingers between mine and stretches us out towards the spasming membrane.
     I can destroy it for you.
     Destroy? Can you destroy the fire that's clinging to every crevice of my body?
Yes, I can tear it apart for you.
Ah, that's good isn't it? You're a good boy aren't you? You'll do whatever I tell you, right?
Yes.
Our hands tighten together, and no one can separate us, we're one. And things feel Right again, and the flowers and light and gentle rushing sound don't matter anymore. We've always been one.
Destroy. A fire's meant to be extinguished isn't it?
Yes.
Our arms extend longer and farther, and I finally, finally touch the sheen of the living, tortured membrane. It curves around us, enfolds us within it, tries to stifle us, but we're powerful. We extend our talons, and we rip through the barrier like it's paper with our shadow claws.
Then the pain belongs to us again.
And we're free

*

Declan

He grips Cynder by the shoulders and thrusts in once more, trailing his nose down the youth's pearly white skin. It's good, god, he's so fucking tight, the dazed half-closed eyes, the half parted cherry mouth, yeah, everything's perfect, and if only Cynder moaned more, it'd be even better. But that, that couldn't have been helped. Declan thrusts harder into the youth's almost pitifully stretched hole, raising his sweat-drenched head to the plain ceiling. It was the fire in his eyes, it had been the same intensity and the same brightness as Him, it was beautiful and breathtaking, and it made his heart hurt so much, he couldn't bear it. He'd break if those chaotic eyes glared at him whilst he was fucking. He couldn't do it, at least, not for the first.
Declan closes his eyes to the creaky squeak of the bed and accelerates faster, faster, even faster, bathing in the sour yet uncontrollably sweet build up in his lower abdomen. He's so beautiful, and if his storm grey eyes stopped their ravaging but gained that empty sheen of knowing nothing but pleasure, he'd look exactly like Him. He'd be the best specimen out of all the other boys and men. The things he'll do to him...How many of those dirty, excruciating things will he be able to take before he becomes lost in pleasure? A rising excitement plunders his hammering heart beat.
He's regretting it now, he shouldn't have given Cynder such a high dosage of the drug. He wants to see him writhe beneath his feet with clarity in those grey eyes, but then again, giving him the drug will keep the boy tethered to him wouldn't it? Cynder won't be able to leave no matter how much he wanted to. Declan's lips split into a smile, and he hums a little, clenching Cynder's supple waist tightly in his hands as he devours the sight of those pink nipples pierced with the rings he customised. How cute.
Leaning down, he approaches the boy's plump, swollen lips, but before he can enthral the soft rose-petal flesh with his, a twisted black shadow slams into his throat. His mind bleeds completely blank for a moment, but his feet kick out instinctively, and the horrible thing drops him with a thump. Who? Declan throws up a hurried shield around him and scrambles backwards. He lifts his head, and his dick goes limp immediately. No. No, no, no, no, no. Archaic fear courses through every vein, artery and nerve.
"Stop, get away from me!" Magic shoots out from his fingers, but the Thing is too quick and clamps a swirling hand of miasma down on his ankle.
Nausea bubbles up his throat, and he claws at the wooden floorboards with his nails, bombarding the Thing with high-level offensive spells. But why is the Thing still moving? Why? Why? Why? He clings onto a crack in the floor, but the Thing's still dragging him backwards, and familiar pain rips through his fingernails again, but he can't let go, if he lets go... If he lets go, that Thing'll do worse things to him.
One shield, two shields, three shields, he throws up more and more layers, but crack! Pain rips through his hand. His eyes waver to the drip, drip, drip, and a wordless scream tear through his mouth. Where? Where's his hand? Why? How? He couldn't think. Only one hand left, and the Thing's pulling harder, it's pulverising his ankles beneath its talons. No, get away! He has to get away!
"Lacast! Lacast, Lacast, Lacast!"
Declan's blood boils and gooey warmth explodes rawly from his mouth, but a new power surges inside of him, and he rips free from the Thing and tumbles into a portal. A rush of relief claws through his heaving chest, and he reaches froward. He has to get away, but why isn't he going anywhere? Why is the portal not taking him away? Wrong. Something's wrong. His head turns rigidly, and there, in the gap between the portal and the Room is the Thing's pulsing hand of darkness. All breath leaves him. No. He reaches into his space for a weapon, anything, anything, and he pulls out a revolver.
Bang. Get. Bang. Away. Bang. From. Bang. Here. The Thing shudders and twists and finally, finally the portal closes fully. He doesn't look back, he just runs alongside the rush of mana. Quick, help, he needs help. A whoosh of air, and he collapses into the corridor of the Main house.
"Michel! Michel! HELP!" He stumbles through the twist of corridors, "Michel help me!"
The greying man rushes up the stairs towards him, "What's wrong young master?"
He clenches onto Michel's black suit, smearing the material with red, "Monster, there's a monster in the Room! We need to get rid of It, he'll kill me, he'll kill me!"
Michel's eyes widen, and he casts a minor healing spell on the bleeding stump, but Declan whips his head to and fro and jerks the butler, eyes trembling, "The crystal, you'll see!"
He whisks out the crystal from his trouser pockets with shaking fingers and crams it towards Michel, "See! It's the Thi— but the words die from his tongue. Nothing. There's nothing in the room but Cynder, "No," he mutters, "no, no, no, it was there before. It was there!"
"Young Master, calm down. You're safe, we'll find the monster, don't worry."
"But It was right there!" He screams, staggering backwards, splashing blood everywhere, "IT was right there!"
"Shhh," Michel steps forward cautiously, "There's nothing there anymore young master, only the boy. Everything's ok, nothing will hurt you."
Pain crashes through his head, and the Crystal smashes to the ground, and he grips his head, "NO! The boy, he's the monster, it's all because of him. It's his fault. He'll kill me, he'll kill me!" He claws at Michel's jacket.
"Ok sir, I know, I know."
His heart bursts and shatters, "You don't understand! You didn't see that, that Thing, how horrendous, how powerful, you didn't see the, the—
"Shhhh, sir, I understand, don't worry." Michel strokes his back gently, "I'll get rid of the boy. I'll get rid of him. Hmmmm?"
But the corrupted edges of his coherent thoughts rupture, and he falls into darkness.