A/N: So my friend gave me this idea, and I wanted to write it. I had great fun ^_^

Requiem

"Please, let me go!"

"Oh, no, I can't do that, sweetie."

The knife glinted wetly in the fluorescent lighting, the crimson stain seeming all the brighter. There was a young woman lying on a table, her face contorted into a mask of sheer pain. Her wrists were strapped down, as were her ankles, and she could barely move. A long gash ran down the side of her torso, bleeding precious life onto the cold, bare ground. There was another cut just above her elbow that, though superficial, had been bleeding enough to make her light headed. Her entire body was a patchwork of bruises staining her cinnamon skin deep purples, blues and yellows.

"They'll find me eventually, you know!"

"Oh, I highly doubt that. This place has been hidden for years."

A shrill scream rent the air as the knife was raised once more.

She was a ghost now, stranded on this world with nowhere to go. Her ethereal flesh needed no sustenance, but it did not have enough substance to hold anything. She could not feel the wind in her ebony locks, nor could she smell the delicate scent of the springtime flowers.

All she really had were her thoughts, and her sight and hearing.

What did I do to deserve this?

It was a phrase that often ran through her mind, and still she had no answer, not even a clue. It was a problem she had been trying to solve for a month now, ever since her murder.

She was tied to him; bound by something stronger than blood, than life itself. She could not be away from him, however much she wished to escape. She had to go everywhere he went, and could not be more than ten metres away at all times. Torture, that's what it was. To be bound to your killer for all eternity. What would happen when he died? Would she be free at last? Free from the torture and pain, from the insanity and injustice of it all.

Day in, day out, she had to watch him go about his everyday activities. At night he hunted down potential victims to satiate his bloodlust, though he didn't necessarily kill every time the moon rose. Most of the time was spent charming his targets, sometimes for weeks on end, until they trusted him enough to go with him willingly.

That was when he struck. Every time the victim would scream, the ghost put her hands over her ears in a vain attempt to quiet the noise. Every time a howl of pain tore from their throats she would cry insubstantial tears in memory of her own death, and in sadness of what she knew would come.

No one ever left that place alive.

Days passed, slowly morphing into weeks, and then months. Soon it had been a year since her death, and still her killer hadn't been caught. Still she was tied to him.

The ghost had witnessed many horrific deaths, and soon she felt no sympathy for the victims. Her tears had run dry.

Oddly enough, she slowly found herself warming to her murderer, and it was driving her insane. She saw him charm his victims again and again, and wished she could take their place. She envied the soft smiles, the gentle touches they received. She felt strangely possessive, even though she knew she shouldn't. She should hate the man, but she couldn't.

Soon enough she was obsessing over her attraction. It clawed at her thoughts, her sanity, tearing it apart. It was all she could think about. She couldn't be in love with him! He killed her! It simply couldn't happen. She didn't want it to happen. All she had ever wanted was to live a quiet life with a loving family, not end up as a ghost that was bound to her killer!

Slowly, ever so slowly, her sanity tore itself to pieces. The ghost found she could injure herself, and so she did. She dragged her nails along her skin, doing her best to shred it to pieces. She bit her arms, trying to tear the flesh off the bones. The ghost clawed at her eyes so she didn't have to see him, to see what he was doing. She didn't want to feel anymore.

In the end, the ghost tore herself to pieces, and life went on.