-She was so beautiful, and he could have watched her forever, had in fact been watching her for days from a safe distance, not willing to expose himself to her scrutiny before he was ready. Obsession beat within his breast as he took in every inch of her youthful form and wondered at the perfection of it. The way the sun caught her hair made it look like spun gold, and her summer dress, the way it twirled around her legs so innocently when she moved. It was like watching a little fairy princess. Her lips would part and so would his, she would laugh and he would pretend to, mirroring her movements as though they were sitting right across from one another instead of on opposite sides of a restaurant. The first day he had seen her he had been drawn to her by some force seemingly outside himself, she called to him and he had to possess her. Not to hurt her, no he didn't wish to do that. What cruel brutal soul would bring pain to such a sweet tender young thing. He merely wanted to draw her, to perhaps touch her cheek as she smiled, and then sketch her just as she was, so full of life and hope. But it never turned out that way. When he had tried to approach her friends grew silent, their laughter cut off abruptly as they stared at him. Only too well did he know what they saw, a monster. His face, that monstrously deformed thing that he hid behind thick caked on make up, was something from nightmares, an aborration and deformity that disgusted even as it drew their eyes. His bright shining angel blushed and turned her head, not wanting to see him, and so he had turned and left them in the park that day, only to come back the next, to watch her leave the college and go jogging. Watching her in the park, watching her in town, watching her as though she were the last sweet thing on Earth. An angel set here just for him, but every time he went home and drew out his pad and pencils he would try to capture her likeness and fail. It was always too bleak or sad, never coming out with the ethereal beauty that she had. Oh, to possess that beauty for even a moment would be a wonder beyond any he had known in life, and the desire to do so had driven him here, on this night, to follow her one last time. -
-The car had been rented in Boston with false identification. Tonight his face was free of that pancake white that always covered the scars, those atrocities were instead hidden by the shadows cast by a baseball cap, his long flowing black hair pulled into a ponytail and the back of his neck and shoved down inside the collar of his shirt. Dexter looked normal, darling Dexter Dom the king of DarkWorld. Visions from the pages of his comic book swept through his mind and he knew what he would do, he would make her immortal, make her live forever as a character in his graphic novels. What better gift could there be. Surely when she saw what he could do for her she would thank him. Carefully he wound tape around his left arm, putting it into the sling that hung from his neck and with a deep breath he reminded himself....he would not hurt this angel, he would not, could not, not this time. This time it would be different. Climbing from the car he dropped the keys on the ground and kicked them under the wheel well, looking around him to make sure that the parking lot was clear. This was where she came every night at the same time, to study alone, to think whatever deep thoughts he was sure she had, a mocha latte and a smile for the counter girl, every night, like clockwork. His heart beat in his breast, faster because he saw her car pulling into the lot, and he knelt down to one knee. When she climbed from her car he crouched further down, making himself as small and compact as possible as he pretended to struggle to find his keys, that arm in its sling chicken winged out as he made a small groan of pain. She was a good samaritan, a Saint really, and just as he thought she would, she stopped.-
"Can I help you?"
-Her voice! It was so kind and soft that it sent his heart on a freewheeling ride to leap from his breast up into his throat, and so excited was he that he almost forgot to answer, almost lost the power of speach altogether. All would have been ruined, all the carefully laid plans blown to pieces, but he managed a mumbled explanation, his keys were under the car and with his injury he couldn't quite reach. All very believeable, and he was careful to keep his face turned so that the scars were hidden in shadow, the cleft in his jaw at an angle where it would not be seen, his eyes lowered so their pupil slits would be unnoticed. Such purity and innocence she had as she kneeled down next to him to help, and her smell, like a freshly bathed babe stirred his senses. Eyelids fluttered and he drew in a breath of her, then when she bent down further his hand moved in a flurry, pushed out of the sling and brought down at the place at the base of the skull where it would knock her out swiftly with the least amount of pain, and then she was falling forward in what seemed like slow motion to him, his arms were there to cradle her, fingers delicate against her skin. No, he would not hurt her, he only wanted to make her live forever.-
-Oh dear. Something had gone terribly wrong and he couldn't quite figure out where he'd gone wrong. The screaming, it had been the screaming. Why had she done it? After all he told her quite clearly that he wouldn't hurt her, had even set her up comfortably in his studio so that he could draw her. Of course tying her up had been necessary, hands and ankles tied snugly but not so much that it would harm that creamy skin of hers. All in all she should have been thankful, thankful that a great artist wished to draw her picture, but she was not the angel he had suspected. Once she woke up she just kept screaming and crying like she was insane. It wouldn't stop, it ate it's way into his head and killed the memories of her sweet smile and the way she laughed. Those kind visions replaced by pictures of this squabbling screaming thing in front of him. He had told her to stop, had tried to warn her, but she didn't listen. They never listened. His hands gripped her shoulders and he shook her to bring sense into her. Blonde hair flicked as her head snapped forward and then back, hitting the wall with a resounding thwack. Again he shook her, again her head lolled. "STOP IT! STOP IT!" Dexter tried to stop her, it wasn't his fault that she was crazy and having some kind of a breakdown, but he had to stop that screaming before it drove him mad as well. It reminded him of his mother, of the way she would cry and scream at him, would chastise him for his foul unholiness. Forward, back thwack. And this time that sound was wet and muted as the drywall cracked, her skull fractured against the wall behind her. At last, peace, she was silenced, head rolled forward on her chest. A hand raised and he lovingly stroked the back of her head, blood pulled in thick rivulets through the silk of her hair. There was a spot at the back where her head had been turned to pulp, the bones broken in the plate, the skin open as she bled freely, but he wouldn't be drawing her from behind. Softly he moved her head until it leaned just a bit to one side, like she was sleeping sitting up.-
"Shhh there now, everythings alright now, just sit still."
-Crawling across the ground he grabbed pad and paper and began furiously to draw her, looking up now and then where she sat tied to the chair, images of her flowed from his fingers as though a mystic fount had been tapped and he could suddenly see the magic again. For hours he sat at her feet and drew her from every angle only rising to change the lighting, or move her clothes so that he could capture the perfect plumpness of the thigh, or the plane of her shoulder. They were perfect, perfect and prescious each and every one. Sitting in a stack on the floor were page after page of images that were her exact likeness, every bit as beautiful as the original. Not the screaming wailing wretch, but the angel who had blushed that day in the park. The clock beeped, an alarm going off to let him know it was midnight, the time he usually went for his evening walk each night. His life lived on an exact and perfect schedule. Alarms set for feeding times, excercise times, work times, a place for everything and everything in its place. Eyes blinked and he looked at her as she blinked and tried to focus her eyes. Then it started again, no sooner had she taken breath than she began to scream and it rocked him to his core. Without thinking hands closed in loving embrace around her neck and he began to squeeze, all the while making small soothing noises. Yes, this was for the best, it would barely hurt at all, and then she could live forever in his work, and have no more pain, nothing more to scream about. The wall behind her was soaked in blood and he watched it drip as he squeezed that swanlike neck, stared at the patterns the blood made, like Rorschadt blots. When she went still it was a relief, and he let her go, untied her, and got ready to go for his midnight walk.-
-The day had been a success, everything gone if not as planned then better. His angel would make her triumphant introduction in DarkWorld Issue#126 - Little Lotte's Angel. It was all planned out in his mind, how perfect she would look prancing through the dark seedy alleys of his made up world, what light she would bring there in the background. Curling up in his bed he reached out to find her, cold dead flesh beneath his hand and it was comforting, it stilled the voice inside him that had been screaming. Arm curled and he pulled her closer, hearing the crinkling sound as she moved across the garbage bag he'd put beneath her head to collect any seeping fluids. Long body stretched out and pressed against hers, each inch of him touching that hardening coolness as he imagined that he felt the rigor set in to her limbs. Then like a final thought his hand moved to lovingly cup her cheek, thumb pad rubbing lightly over the place where her dimple would be, and in his mind she smiled, smiled lovingly at him, and he touched her smile as he had wanted to, and there in the arms of the dead he would at last drift off to a dreamless sleep.- ____________________________________________________________________________
Shane, My Queen eternal, This gift for you to feed your dark desires. See this angel safely to the kingdom of heaven This is my love letter to you, oh great Kadra Your beauty like the night enchants my mind Your touch like fire burns through me I am your devoted servant Dexter Dom
-The body was bloodless, wrapped carefully like it had come right from the butchers shop, each delicate piece of meat cut into segments. Calves, Thighs, Torso, Chest, Arms. That manilla paper carefully holding it, cradling the once comforting flesh. Each piece a meal fit for a Queen. The pile was left in the backroom at Shane's skate shop, the letter atop the pile along with a sketch that would be the cover to Issue # 126. They had yet to speak,only seeing one another in passing, but he was hers already, and these little gifts were his way of showing his love and devotion.-
