#( bc of course our first interaction would be angsty and gory )

[sanguineas]

@metamorphisms   //    ----- nothing but a wild beast wearing human skin.

THE MUFFLED SOUND OF THE MUSIC REACHING  the girl's sensitive ears was like a free mockery of her current state. The building next to that alley was flooded with music and drinks and drugs --- and she had just left the place through the back door, dizzy and dazed by the heroin that burned like a sweet poison in her veins. It was one of those days when she threw herself headlong into some party in hope that someone would accidentally overdose her by injecting a bigger dose of some random drug --- so, again, it could spare her the burden of doing it by herself. Even in her torpor, she was a fucking coward. 

                                                      Cigarette lit, body leaning against the wall, the only thing she wanted for a few damn minutes was a moment of peace. Then she could go back to the party until she felt bad enough to fall unconscious on some corner on the floor and wake up only in the next day.     Scarlett  wouldn’t  let  herself  think too much  about  it, but  sometimes ( only sometimes ) she wondered what Rowen would think about all that --- about her. It was something so painful that  she didn't  allow it  to pervade even two seconds of her thoughts. She wouldn't let it. You can't think about it, do not think do not think do not think. Suppressing her thoughts --- her memories --- was the best form of self-defense in which she managed to work. She was still trying, but the flashbacks snatched her so hard sometimes she wondered if she wouldn’t be swallowed up by the pain and agony. 

                                  “---hey, you.”

                                                       To retreat like a frightened animal was the only reaction the girl let slip as she was dragged out from her own mind.   Boredom  shaped  her  features  once her  eyes  adjusted to  the darkness  and  discerned the two male  figures approaching.  She stifled a snarl.   “I'm  not  giving  you  assholes any  supply today. Go  find  someone else  to get you  high.”

                                                      The man was all smiles.                                                       “It seems you learned how to talk, Vhataen. How adorable.” The  mere  mention  of  the surname was enough reason for her face to twitch in confusion. She took  a   step back, but  the  guy's  partner  ( no, she didn't actually knew who, WHAT  he was  now )  seemed  to  already  have reached  her  back.    No, no. That wasn't  happening. Not there. Not there---not now. 

                                                      Her head throbbed and swirled and swirled. She did recognize the exotic blade as soon as the first guy ( dark hair, all white teeth ) pulled it from his pocket. “Damir sends his regards. He says he misses his pet.”

That's it. That is everything he says before he and his partner attack and Scarlett's vision turns red. The girl's movement was so feline, so fast and agile that anyone who saw her would never even guess about the toxins still running through her body. In a second, a man is moving towards her; In the next one, he is shoved with supernatural strength at his partner. She hears the screaming as they bump into the railing of the alley. Fury in milky eyes as they recompose themselves with frightening speed.

No. No. No.

                                                      She would not be taken back to him; She would not be used again --- nor corrupted or broken any more than she already was. She accepts death. She embraces it with joy if it is the alternative to going back to that bastard. 

                                                      Then, for the first time in a long, long time, she becomes that force of nature --- that murderous fury and calamity she has always been told she is. She can smell their fear as soon as her pupils become two feline diamonds and her nails --- those white, mortal nails --- turn into long animal claws, sharp enough to tear off pieces. Her head whirled and begged for a rest --- it begged for the lethargy the heroine offered her --- but Scarlett didn't provide herself a break. She moved and swiped as both of the man did the same ( there is also no room for questioning if something is wrong ). 

Her claws meet the first target --- she growls like a wild animal while blocking the second man attack with one arm, wrapping her claws around the other one's neck. Her canines grow, and, for a second, she ponders what it would be like to sink her teeth once more in flesh; to taste the blood as she draws its viscous red liquid. She hears their screams of terror, listens to the delicious sound of the bone in one's arm breaking --- the one she had blocked from the previous attack --- as she twists it and hurls him to the ground once more. She turns to the man who still chokes under her claws. Her smile is terrifying. She remembers hearing a plea before sinking her teeth into the flesh of his neck and ripping out flesh, both flesh and blood and pain and screamings. She also remembers listening to a prayer as she throws the inert body on the ground and turns to the second target. She doesn't save time with this one --- she claws at his belly and push it all out, pulls whatever she can get out of there; Flesh, kidneys, guts, blood and more blood. She doesn’t stop until it is all messy and red.

                                                      It takes two long minutes until she can catch her breath --- until reality hits her with the force of a tornado. Until she realizes that the blade the first man carried was a common one. Until she realizes she had just killed two innocent men.

Scarlett falls to her knees. Hand shakes before it reaches the dead man one more time --- as if to prove that he... they were not a hallucination, too. It's solid. It's red. And it smells like death. She stifled a sob that almost broke from her throat

                                                      “No. No no no no no.”  She  repeats  once,  twice --- so many times until she is watching herself in front of her brother's dead body. His blood on her hands. Once again. The girl retracts backward in a sudden move as she covers her mouth with her hands so she won’t scream, won’t cry. She closes her eyes. 

Breathe          in                   and                          breathe                                       out   

                                          to adjust in reality --- just one more time.                                                       She is here.                                                       That's not Rowen. It's not Rowen. It's not Rowen.

The smell of blood is so pungent she hardly notices the female figure at the end of the alley. Hardly. For the first time in a long time, Scarlett is truly terrified.

                                                                               “---who's there?”