ANGELS

By Succubus

"So many times I tried to stop. I know it doesn't seem like it now, from here, for you--but it's true. I really did try to stop.

"I never wanted to hurt anyone. I never did it to cause pain. Don't you see that? Don't you see that only the most special, the one's I loved the most, were granted such honor?

"That's what it was: honor. How else could I prove my devotion? How else could they? You say they died in pain and fear. Perhaps, but you didn't know them like I did. Don't we all die in pain and fear? They died in love, for love. My angels...."

A smile lit the drifter's face, softening the rough edges, smoothing out the deep etched lines. His eyes looked dreamy, far-away, lost in recollection.

"But hurt them? I didn't really. Not like you did. Not like the world did. My angels are safe; my angels were loved. The world steps upon the loveliest of women, without ever really seeing them. I see them, and love them for what I see, deep inside of them."

The detective swallowed hard at this statement, his eyes roving over the photos depicting how the drifter had "loved his angels inside". The photos showed a young 19-year-old girl's nude body. Across her belly were deep lacerations, several of them, some done with such haste and fervor that the skin was ripped instead of cut. Her skin lay folded back, exposing her entrails to the detective's view. Semen had been found inside of the woman. Inside the opening he had cut. On her organs. Forensics said he had made one initial cut, using this cavity he had created for his perverse pleasures, and carved out the rest as he went along.

"But you asked me about the first one, to tell you how it started. You want to know about Jessica...."

I hadn't been in town long when I first saw Jessica. She was walking down the street in a pair of faded blue jeans and little blue sweater. Even from my seat in the diner, I could see how bright her blue eyes looked, how the sweater brought out their color. She was walking with some guy who looked like your typical jock asshole, I couldn't figure out what she was doing with him. She had this special quality to her--a charisma that just reached out and grabbed you.

She glanced at her reflection in the diner window and I was treated to her smile for the first time. I felt blinded, frozen, fascinated. I quickly paid for my meal and hurried after her.

My eyes were fixed on her hips, watching them sway as she walked. Every so often she'd toss her head back and let go with a laugh, sending her blonde curls bouncing. The sound reached my ears and soothed me, brought out a sense of protectiveness in me. I wanted to keep her safe--I knew right then that nothing must touch my angel.

I followed her and the boy for some time. Through the park, where they sat and talked, along the river, and finally, back to her home. At the door of her house, he tried to kiss her. Murderous rage filled me. If he had touched her, I would have killed him. He did not have the right. He couldn't even see her. He had no idea how precious she was. She laughed and pushed him away. Pride filled me. She knew she belonged to another, even if we hadn't met yet.

I sat in the bushes a couple hundred yards from her house all night. I watched her mom and dad come home. Watched through the windows as the family sat down to dinner. Watched her eat, absorbed by her mouth.

As the night went on and the family settled down to rest, I waited as the lights went out one by one, then crept along the outside of the house, peering in the windows, trying to find her room. Along the back of the house, a dim light still shone in one window. Carefully I peeked into the window, and there she was.

She was chatting on the phone, caught up in her conversation. A couple candles illuminated the room. Slowly, quietly, I slid the window upwards. It stuck at first and I was afraid it wasn't going to open, or was going to squeak like hell when it did open. Finally it slid upwards slightly. Just an inch or so, but enough for me to hear her talking.

It sounded like she was talking to the boy again. She rose, still chatting, grabbed her robe, and headed out her door. I waited breathless for a few moments until I heard a shower running. Yes. Now.

I slid her window up higher, pushing it as far up as it would go. From my pocket I pulled out my pocketknife and cut through the screen. After a quick look inside to see what I might land on, I crept in the window.

I paused for a moment to make sure no one was going to come walking in on me, listening hard. Hearing only the sounds of the shower, I smiled. I tiptoed over to her door, and then stepped behind it. Nothing to do but wait.

A short while later, in she came, like some sort of dream, her hair slick down her back, she had a towel wrapped around her body. Water beads glistened on her skin.

As soon as she walked into the room, I quietly closed the door. Sensing me behind her, she turned and would have screamed, but I jumped on her before she could get the chance. I wrapped a hand over her mouth and held up my knife in front of her eyes. She froze, and I could feel her trembling against me.

"Hush, hush," I told her; "I'm not going to hurt you, but don't make a sound, do you hear?"

She nodded her head and I smiled. I could smell her skin; the clean scent of soap and shampoo covered her. I buried my face in her wet hair and inhaled deeply.

I gently rolled my angel over, so she was laying on her back on the carpet before me. Slowly I lifted the edges of the towel, revealing her body to my sight. My breath was sucked right out of me at her beauty. Her skin was so pale, so creamy and soft and white. I ran my hand over her abdomen, caressing the skin. My hands shook with reverence. I felt so lucky. She was mine.

I looked into her eyes, they were wide, and I'm sure she was a little frightened still, but I also knew she understood. I could see the acknowledgement in her eyes. She knew we were meant to be together. You cannot escape your destiny.

I kissed my angel then, gently, softly. She seemed so fragile and delicate, I was afraid I'd break her with a kiss. She turned her head to the side, but I understood. It's hard to give in to what must be. It's difficult to admit to such huge feelings as love. I kissed her once more, and then drew back, taking in her perfection.

I placed my hand over her mouth and pushed down hard, smashing her lips to silence. I pressed the tip of my blade against her navel, and then slid it to the side. The blade sunk in just slightly and cut through her, a shallow cut to start the path. The path to freedom. The path to love.

She screamed beneath my hand. Her whole body went taut and flailed about deliciously beneath me. I leaned down and looked into her eyes. I smiled, to show her she needn't worry, that I would take care of her.

I pressed the knife back inside of her, sheathing the cold steel in her hot flesh and blood. She was fighting me like mad, but I just smashed her mouth shut. Soon she would see.

I slid the blade across the original cut, only deeper, ever deeper, opening my angel to me, to my love.

Her eyes were filled with tears and she looked up at me with a look of pure terror as I unzipped my pants. She screamed again as I entered her. I slid into her slowly, gently. I made love to her. I could feel her inside, and looking into her eyes, I could see that at the last she was grateful. I knew she really understood my love and our destiny. Finally she was becoming mine as she was always meant to be.

As her body shuddered in it's final throes of death, rage filled me, I didn't know all of her yet! I had to know more, had to make her completely mine. In a frenzy, I slashed out at her body, slicing my knife through her skin. Blood flowed round her, across her skin, dripping into the carpet beneath her. I pushed myself into her deeper, harder, wanting to posses her entirely. I slid my hands into her body, I felt inside of her. Finally, as our desire reached its peak, I filled her with the proof of my love and devotion.

I felt her love for me too, in that final moment we shared. Our joining was beyond something most people would understand. Our love was pure.

The detective stared speechless as tears coursed down the drifter's face.