9~ * ~ * ~
I walk into my first period class at seven-thirty in the morning. It's empty, seeing as how class doesn't start until eight-ten, but I like to put my stuff in here early.
After depositing my books on my desk, I turn to leave, but something holds me back. A chill wind has risen, but the windows are shut. I spin back around, and, as I do, my world is plunged into darkness.
I don't fall unconscious; on the contrary, I am quite awake. However, I can't see a thing, and am positive I have gone blind; at any moment, someone will enter the classroom and see me fumbling around like an idiot.
No such luck.
I am lost in a cold, pitch black void with no hope of rescue. Or so I think.
Footsteps click on a marble floor, nearing me. "Maria," a cool, familiar voice whispers.
I shift, turning to face the direction the voice is coming from. I know that voice; I could place it in my sleep. It is the voice of the one I love. "Tyler? What are you doing here?"
He laughs; cold, mocking. "Don't you want to know where 'here' is?"
I shrug and nod, not sure if he can see me. "Well, I suppose, yes. So, I take it that you do know where we are, then?"
He laughs again. "Of course I do. We are in the deepest, darkest recesses of your mind."
I squirm uncomfortably. This is not the Tyler I know. The Tyler I know is kind, gentle...and, admittedly, a bit arrogant. Nothing like this imposter, who is now standing in front of me, trailing his fingers down my neck. I shiver. That's not my Tyler's touch, but I can't pull away.
"Um, the recesses of my mind?" I ask uncertainly. "Why?"
"Yes," he purrs, "so I can learn about all the deep, dark fantasies you have that might involve me..."
Jeez, he might as well be in a fast food restaurant - "Yes, I'd like one deep, dark fantasy involving me, please."
Would you like fries with that?
He chuckles. "I always did like your sense of humor."
Oh, great. He can hear my thoughts. This is not good.
He starts to pace in a circle around me, humming a tune. I realize that it's "Silver and Cold," by AFI. I love AFI, but, as far as I know, he's never heard of them.
"Just something I picked up from your mind," he whispers in my ear as he stops behind me, placing his hands on my hips.
I shudder. It was so wrong, but it felt so nice...
He starts moving his hands up and down slowly, slipping them underneath my shirt. I'm sure that if it was anybody else, I would've shrieked and jumped away. In fact, I'm positive. But not from him, not from this dark reincarnation of my angel. Never from him.
He kisses my neck slowly, and all I can do is mumble his name. When he bites down, I gasp, drawing a quiet snicker from him.
"I like to hear you say my name like that," he murmurs to me, reaching up to massage my shoulders. I can only sigh helplessly, knowing that this is not my Tyler, no, not at all, but not caring.
He is in front of me now, claw like nails raking down my back. If I had been paying attention, I would have seen that they were painted black...not that there was any light to see by. But of course, if there had been, I would have also seen that he was clothed all in black, pants and a button- down shirt, with a silver crucifix around his neck.
My Tyler hates black. He's Christian...
But, there is no light, so I do not see.
"Maria?"
"T-Tyler?"
"Give me your wrist," he breathes.
"Why?" I sound slightly wary.
I can feel him studying me. "Masochist," he finally sneers, "Give me your wrist so I can slash it open and listen to you scream in ecstasy!"
I remember telling my friend once that I could be getting tortured and I would be happy, as long as Tyler was next to me. I never dreamed that he would be the one doing the torturing.
I shake my head in fear, clasping my hands behind my back.
He grows impatient. Reaching out, he puts one hand behind my head, pulling me roughly, kissing me roughly, while his other hand reaches behind my back and tugs at my arm. When I don't let go, he bites down on my lip, drawing out a stream of scarlet blood. I screech, my grip slacking. As he takes my hand, he pulls away, and I can feel him watching me as he licks the blood off his lips. He leans in again, whispering, "I promise it won't hurt," just before I feel his soft lips against mine once more. This time, he is slow and gentle, his tongue lapping up the rest of the blood. As he does that, one of his nails snicks open my wrist, a long gash appearing. I scream into his mouth. The hand on the back of my head starts stroking my hair, trying to soothe me. I relax into his grip; his hand is now in the small of my back, pressing our hips closer together as my wrist bleeds freely.
Momentarily, he pulls away, panting slightly. I can still taste him; he tastes dark, like rich wine and chocolate, mixed in with my own blood.
"Are you satisfied?" he asks me, licking his lips. "I can still taste you...I won't make you mine just yet, though...there will be time for that later."
I don't understand, but I don't question it, either.
He reaches out and takes my bleeding wrist, wrapping his other arm around my shoulders and forcing me to my knees.
I can see his face.
It is my Tyler's face, but...different. He will never look like this in reality - his blue-green eyes won't be outlined in black, his normally beautifully flushed cheeks won't be pale, his lips won't be wet with my blood.
He kneels down in front of me, my wrist held between us. I can see a strange glint in his eyes as he puts my wrist to his mouth and starts drinking the blood that pools there.
I shut my eyes, trying to block out the sight of my flawless Tyler lapping up my blood. My wrist hurts and all I want to do is get back to the real Tyler...
Suddenly, he stands, licking my wrist one last time. "Until next time," he whispers.
And before I can move, my vision comes back. It's like someone flicked on a light switch. The classroom is still empty, and I look at the clock.
It's seven-thirty-one.
I shake my head in disbelief, looking down. I'm still on my knees, and my wrist is still bleeding. Huh.
"Hey," a soft voice says.
I look up. It's Tyler. The real Tyler. My Tyler.
"Hey," I reply.
"Why are you on your knees?" he questions. "Oh, jeez, what happened to your wrist!?"
"I-I don't know..."
"We have to bandage that. Let's go to the nurse." He holds out a hand to help me up. I take it and he pulls. He catches my injured wrist in his other hand, and, as I watch in shock, he brings it to his lips and licks the pulsing blood from it.
I am speechless as he smiles, thin and glittery, and leads me out of the room.