[PRP] Ashes to Ashes (Ian & Amrita) (violent)

[kuropeco]

He was here again.

Everything ached, like he'd been hit by a truck, but he ignored it, pushed past the dull throbbing in his chest and his back and his arms and his legs and everywhere and instead made his way silently down the darkened hallway of the Haunted House. Naomi was summoned, but the blade was held lightly in his fingers, Ian hardly doing more than simply keeping it from falling to the ground.

{ Ian. }

He ignored her.

{ Ian, please. }

He still ignored her, because it was for the best, really. Things were better this way, better because he was going to leave things unsaid and simply...disappear into the abyss, away from everyone, because that was the best way to keep them from getting hurt, wasn't it?

Wasn't that what Nevada had done? Gone off on her own to keep anyone else from having to watch her die?

(He didn't want to think about Nevada.)

(He couldn't think about Nevada.)

The ache in his head felt like pins and needles stabbing into his skull, but Ian kept walking, his coat billowing out behind him, the scarf wrapped around his waist like a sash. It kept it out of the way while still signifying to anyone around that he was a hunter, that he was a human.

A living, breathing human.

(The "living" part was debatable.)

Enoh Love

 

[Enoh Love]

You were so easily fooled.

You are so naive.

You were so desperate...

The words echoed through Amrita's mind. It had felt entirely real, and yet had been nothing more than a dream. She still remembered the familiar voice - though she couldn't place it - and the way it had felt to have her core crack and shatter under the pressure of crystals. To lose everything that made her who she was, and to become nothing more than other people's memory.

She was eternally grateful that it had been a dream. That she had actually woken up from it, whole and unharmed. She would have been more than willing to chalk it up to the result of a terrible dream had it not been for the mark she had discovered on the back of her hand. The one that persisted in both the dream and the real world. The one that looked suspiciously like Merlin's Legacy.

It made her angry. She took to wearing fingerless gloves to hide it from the others, but every time she saw her own hands the anger came back, burning through her like a fire. The gloves could never hide it from her, and all it did was make it glaringly obvious to herself: She had this mark because she was weak. Desperate. Naive. She had somehow been fooled by someone she couldn't place, though through thought and context she had her suspicions.

She did her best to avoid looking at her hands entirely, and desperately continued to go about her day as if nothing happened, too afraid to see if it was a mark that had been embedded on her, not just her body. Like all things though, the horrible curiousity gnawed at her, and anxiety that came with the what if; what if it was actually on her hand, but what if it wasn't? There was a slim - and rather vain - chance that she could replace her patchwork hand and be done with it, after all.

She was beginning to understand why the voice had used words like naive and fool.

When the hallway to the Haunted House appeared, she saw her chance; it was a way for her to find out just how permanent the mark was, and if it was as she feared, hopefully there would be someone within that she could take her anger out on. Amrita had never felt guilt over harming a Hunter after all, but she would hate to lose herself to her rage on a fellow student. The decision was too easy for her, and after finding a secluded place in the first room of the Haunted House, she went to work. She slipped out of the patchwork form, phasing through the bone, sinew and skin with little difficulty. The moment her ghostly form was free, the corpse itself remained behind, now nothing more than an empty vessel. A useless hunk of flesh.

The creature was careful to avoid looking at its own detached hands as it hid the patchwork body, and once it was satisfied, it moved to stand. Its long claws curled into a fist and the its face, unmoving but glowing, turned downwards to finally peek at the back of the offending hand -

A loud, two-toned scream ripped through the creature's unmoving mouth, echoing through the halls. The tone was in disbelief at first, but rose quickly into a seething rage. The once pale blue glow that seeped from the vents that made up the creatures eyes and mouth were now brighter, glowing and twisting violently to match its anger. The mark was still there, branded on the back of its pale grey, twisted hand.

"No-" It cried, its voice neither maculine nor feminine, as it tried to claw off the mark. "No-" It mourned again, angry and resentful, as it realized that it wasn't fading and, in fact, was still clear as day despite its attempts at removal. "NO-" It shrieked, a strangled cry that was as disheartened as it was disgusted.

"Why-" It grabbed the nearest piece of furniture - one that thankfully wasn't hiding its body - and threw it, hard, at the open door frame. "Why ME-" It twisted, kicking a second chair so hard it flew back a few feet before toppling over. "What did I ever do-" Then it turned, smashing a nearby mirror with a heavy punch. In the immediate lack of bodies to destroy, Amrita was taking it out on the furniture, which did little to satisfy the storm within her core.

All it did was leave a trail of destruction behind her on her way to find something more fleshy to tear to pieces.  

[kuropeco]

He wasn't alone in the House, and he knew it.

The place felt incredibly claustrophobic; as though the walls were closing in on him, squeezing the life out of the air and sacrificing his breath for its shadows. Ian made his way down one particular hallway, the walls of which were lined with broken and splintered boards, several layers of dust spread across the wood. A few paintings hung at random intervals, too old and too faded to be anything more than empty frames with blank canvases, and somehow this reassured Ian.

Maybe he'd be lucky and turn into one of those blank canvases himself; stretched across the wood with no more memories of anything. An entirely clean slate, free of sadness, free of bitterness, free of anguish.

Free of pain.

There was a sound echoing through the halls now, terribly twisted and horribly raw, as though whoever had made it was screaming their lungs out. It didn't frighten him - it probably should have - and Ian made his way further down the hallway, deeper into the shadows. Another cry reverberated in his ears; a garbled sort of shout, followed by a spine-tingling shriek, and Ian followed the noise, the dagger still held loosely in one hand.

There was a scraping sound, a shriek, and a crash. They were coming from a room down the hallway to his left, and Ian made a sharp turn, his expression devoid of any emotion except an apparent intense desire to discover the source behind the noises.

{ A creature of Halloween. } said Naomi. { I can sense it. }

He didn't answer her vocally, but mentally he gave a nod, acknowledging her presence in his mind only briefly, and she lapsed into a fretful, angry silence following the exchange. He supposed he should have been more grateful to her, but Naomi had never before approved of his methods; and why should she start now?

He finally managed to locate the creature - or at least, the right hallway the creature was in, since with each step closer to its presence, the shrieks became louder, more apparent, dripping with fury and chaos. He stepped past a shattered chair, moved over a splintered table, and Ian's grip on his knife didn't loosen, but it didn't tighten either.

It was there, just ahead. He knew it was.

The creature was unfamiliar, not that it mattered. Ian rounded the corner just in time to watch it crush another chair beneath its massive hands, and he watched it with a disinterested sort of expression, stopping in his path to observe.

"You're making a mess," was all he said.

Enoh Love

 

[Enoh Love]

The creature was so wrapped up in the senseless destruction of the room that it hadn't even noticed it had company. The moment the voice reached the small slits it had for ears, it whirled around, twisting to see who it was as its latest victim; another chair, it looked like, dangled from one hand. It was an unfamiliar face to match the unfamiliar voice, but that didn't matter; what mattered was the coat the man wore, the one that branded him as a Hunter.

"As if you've never made one." It growled, turning slowly so it could properly face the white coated person. "As if you're innocent." It continued accusingly, it's voice dripping with bitter amusement, lifting one long arm to point a sharp claw at the man it didn't recognize.

"It's all you know how to do." Amrita hadn't meant this Hunter in particular, of course; she was speaking for their whole group, clumping them together for the simple fact they all wore the same uniform. Very few of them had been able to escape her prejudiced branding, and today, he would not be one of them.

"We'd be better off without you ruining everything!" It yelled before it twisted, throwing the chair at the man with as much force as it could muster.

kuroopu

 

[kuropeco]

He hadn't exactly expected a warm welcome, but the chair was a bit much.

It flew towards him without warning, slamming him in the torso and sending him staggering backwards, Ian's back hitting the wall with a sharp crack as the boards behind him splintered. He collapsed to the floor, completely winded and still gripping Naomi tightly, his chest feeling tight. He coughed, spitting dust and blood - he'd unintentionally bitten his tongue - and pushed the fractured remains of the chair off of him, stumbling back to his feet.

"I never said I was innocent," Ian said, and spat out a mouthful of blood onto the floor, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "And I'd like to point out here that you were the one who ruined things this time."

He twisted Naomi in his hand, and his head ached, throbbed with a pressure that pushed against his skull, threatened to overtake him with the pain.

A quote from an old movie flitted into his mind.

"You mock my pain!"

"Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something."

How true, Ian thought sardonically, and lunged, thrusting the blade in the direction of the creature's leg.

Enoh Love

 

[Enoh Love]

"No, I didn't do anything. I never have." The creature growled. "Everything that's happened is your fault." The tag. The desperation to find an alternative. Life now wracked with headaches and black outs, and ultimately, the legacy's mark. None of this would have happened if it weren't for the Hunters, on this she was positive. There wouldn't be a Vetala destroying a room if none of those things had happened to her. It wouldn't be contemplating ripping a stranger to shreds simply for wearing a white and gold coat. Amrita wasn't aware that this man was both innocent and ignorant of what happened to her, and what kept happening to her, but she didn't care.

He attacked, and the creature stumbled backwards in an attempt to avoid the blow. Metal cut into flesh, and despite the cut landing rather deeply into a grey leg, it didn't seem to slow it down. In fact, it let out a rather delighted laugh. Yes, perfect, someone willing to play. Claws stretched and arms swung as it took and used the close proximity to it's advantage; it swiped sharp claws through whatever fleshy part it could reach.

kuroopu

 

[kuropeco]

The wildly sweeping claws of the creature had sunk into Ian's leg, and he gave a hiss of pain, stumbling down to one knee as he attempted to pry it away. He shoved back, stumbling, and there was blood running down his ankle now; the FEAR shield crackled and snapped under the slash of the monster's claws, but it was still managing to hold, at least for now. It was an almost physical feeling, strange; he could feel it bending.

Ian rolled his eyes; a gesture that made his head ache further than it already was. "Each and every one of you monsters has done something," he said darkly, twisting the knife in his hand. "None of you is innocent. You're all straight from hell, and I'm sending you straight back."

He jumped forward again, this time latching onto one of the creature's arms and driving the knife through its hand, or at least, what part of it he could reach.

{ Ian - }

"You did this to me," Ian hissed, and it wasn't clear who he was talking about anymore.

enoh love

 

[Enoh Love]

The creature shrieked as the knife went through its hand, and it immediately lashed out with the other, wrapping long claws around the tanned throat. It wrapped its claws downward, trying to keep the blade embedded in its twisted, grey flesh. It stung, but it was nothing in the long run.

"No~" It growled, leaning in nice and close. "You did this to yourself." The claws around Ian's neck shifted, puncturing long nails through the flesh, enough to draw blood. "Everything that has happened, and everything thatwill happen... It's all on you." It pushed forward, sweeping out a leg to try and knock the Hunter off his feet. The creature was prepared to follow him down, hellbent on keeping that grip on him.

kuroopu

 

[kuropeco]

He wrenched the knife out of the creature's hand just as its claws wrapped around his throat, and Ian felt his air supply cut off abruptly. He made a wheezing sound, a strangled gasp escaping his mouth, and dragged his hand over the claws, attempting to disengage them.

"I'm...not...the one...who did this..." he hissed out, and then gave another strangled gasp, this one of pain, as the claws dug into his throat. He could feel a sticky wetness against the side of his neck, trickling down into his collarbone, and something knocked into Ian's legs - the creature's foot - making him collapse instantly.

He fell to his back on the floor with a sharp crash, dust exploding upwards, catching in his mouth. The creature's claws were still around his neck, and though he could still breathe, the air getting into his lungs was limited enough that it was painful to draw breath.

"You...are the ones....who...do this...to yourself..." Ian gasped out, and thrust his knife through the creature's wrist, trying to make it let go of him.

enoh love

 

[Enoh Love]

The Vetala tumbled down with him, its knee hitting the ground with an audible crack. The grip on the Hunter's throat loosened as it had fallen in an attempt to brace itself, but the moment it could, it resumed what it had been doing: trying to squeeze the life out of a stranger. His words drew out a barking laugh as the knife sailed through the gap between its hand and forearm; it nicked the latter, but it wasn't enough to make it let go.

"If believing that bullshit will give you comfort, by all means, keep lying to yourself." It laughed out, though it realized the moment those words were said, it didn't like it. Offering comfort to someone she was trying to kill was ridiculous; and then, suddenly, it stilled. The grip loosened on his throat, and for a moment, it merely stared down at him, as if contemplating something. Risk verses reward. Would a bedridden week - or worse - be worth it?

What did she have to lose? Her life?

As if it was hers anymore, anyway.

It let go of his throat rather suddenly, and in the next move, it slammed both hands down on his upper arms, just above the elbow, forcing his arms down to the ground. Slowly, its hands began to press down - and then started to vanish entirely, transitioning through the fabric and flesh of his arms with no worse pain than pins and needles. Hands disappeared, followed by forearms, until the unmoving face was inches above Ian's.

Then, even that vanished, and everything went black. Amrita, who was used to this feeling, waited patiently for the few seconds as her FEAR adjusted to and took over the living, breathing organism that was the Hunter's body.  

[kuropeco]

He was starting to see spots now, black dancing in the line of his vision. Ian choked, his knife stabbing in vain; he'd hit it, but it was a glancing blow, and it wasn't letting go anytime soon. His neck felt as though it was slowly being crushed, his air supply growing more and more limited.

"I never...lie," Ian gasped out, his words barely audible. A piece of wood was digging painfully into his back, but he couldn't move just yet, still struggling to get free, his legs kicking, his hands gripping the creature's claws as he tried to pry them off his neck.

And then - a small relief as the creature's grip loosened, just a small bit, and Ian dragged in a breath of air, his lungs heaving, his chest on fire. He wasn't sure what had caused the momentary lapse, but he had the feeling it couldn't be good, whatever it was.

{ Ian - }

She had been mostly silent, but now she called to him, her voice worried.

{ Ian, get out of there, we must leave - }

I'm trying, I'm trying -

He kicked out - the creature let go, and the sudden rush of air to his lungs made him dizzy, Ian coughing and sputtering. He bucked on the ground, his throat raw, and he tried to get back up, tried to get free, but -

- his head cracked back against the floor, momentarily stunning him, and he was pinned now, the creature's hands on his arms. A moment of confusion passed through him until he saw what was happening:

She was disappearing. She was disappearing into him, and Ian let out a shout of anger, a scream of mingled terror and fury as he struggled to get free. It didn't hurt, not really, but it felt terribly, terribly wrong, and no amount of struggling could break free -

- a shiver went up and down his spine, a strange tingling sensation that spread throughout his body -

No no no no no no no no -

- he could breathe -

No no NO -

Blackness sank over him, thick and cloying, and then, after a few moments, his vision cleared and he was still lying on the floor, staring up at the decrepit ceiling above his head, the splintered, dusty boards.

He couldn't move.

enoh love

 

[Enoh Love]

It took a few seconds, and in those few seconds, Amrita felt the annoying discomfort of the living. The movement of blood through the body, the grumble of the digestive system, the reflex expand and contract of the chest that was needed to breathe - the incessant beating of the heart. She could never understand how the living did it; how they managed to put up with the sounds and movements. Perhaps they grew accustomed to it over their years, but to her, a member of the Undead, it was the picture of discomfort.

But, finally, the blackness began to fade, and her - now his - vision cleared enough to finally see the ceiling. The weapon, the little dagger that had assaulted the Vetala, now lay uselessly on the ground in its totem form, and was quickly ignored as she focused on more important things - like trying to stand. As she began to will the borrowed limbs to work, they began to bend to her will - almost literally. The wrists began to twist by an unseen force, the bones creaking and straining until they snapped; when it was over, Ian's hands were backwards, twisted at unnatural angles. His feet had only barely managed to avoid the same fate, and only because they had already been planted firmly on the ground as she tried to get her newest meat suit to stand. With their height and size difference, she was having some issues.

How she kept coming across tall Hunters was beyond her, but hopefully, after today, there would be one less of them around to plague her.

"You lie all the time." Ian's voice echoed through the room, the tone heavy and rasping as if suffering from disuse. " It's all you know how to do." He looked around the room once he had struggled to his feet, and caught his reflection in a broken mirror on the other side of the room. It was intact just enough to do what she wanted it to, and so she slowly made him make his way over, his foot falls heavy as she navigated through the debris and blood on the floor. When she finally made it to the mirror, she reached out with his backward hands and grasped it, tilting it enough in the hopes that if was still awake inside somewhere, and watching.

She had been about to make him break off a piece of glass, when instead she paused as she caught sight of the back of his hand, and there it was, in all its terrible glory: that mark of hers, visible even on borrowed flesh. A feral growl tore from Ian's throat, and his body twisted sharply, smashing the offending hand against the nearest thick cabinet, hard enough to shatter a few of the smaller bones and tear the skin to obscure the mark. She stared down at the torn flesh, seeing it through his eyes, and then, satisfied with her work, she forced him to look up and at himself again, intent on picking up right where she had left off.

"Especially to yourself. You make believe you are doing the right thing, when really, all you are doing is making it worse.You are scum, and that is all you will ever be."  

[kuropeco]

It was like blackness.

He could feel her inside of him like a cancer, and yet he could do nothing to stop her, nothing to expel her, prevent her from spreading herself throughout his limbs and filling his chest like smoke. Ian's body was no longer his own, and it felt wrong, it felt sick and disgusting and wrong wrong wrong wrong -

NAOMI, he screamed, but there was no return answer, at least none that he could hear. NAOMI -

Her totem lay on the floor somewhere in front of him, a pair of earrings tossed carelessly among the rubble. Ian's hands ached to reach out and pick them back out, but nothing would move, no part of him would move no matter how much he strained, no how much he cried out at his body to do what he told it to.

Naomi, he thought desperately, but all he heard was a muffled whisper, deadened by the presence inside of him.

The body began to move - his body - as the creature drew vertical, and Ian could feel the creak of his bones, the unnatural way in which his muscles bent and twisted to her liking - and he could see in front of him his own hands, slightly bruised, lifting, and he could feel them begin to turn, beginning to twist -

NO -

A terrible, sickening snap, a horrible crack and Ian was shrieking, shouting until his voice was hoarse, though no sound emanated from his own lips, blocked by the creature invading his body. His hands dangled unnatural, bent backwards at impossible angles, and he could feel the agony of them in every bone in his body, reverberating up and down his spine until it felt like his body was on fire with the heat of it.

He could hear his own voice now, but it wasn't his words, none of them were. She had begun to move now, and it was pain pain pain pain with each step, each shuffling, dragging footfall. When she tilted the mirror with his shattered hands, he nearly went black from the pain and the disgust.

If he could have cried, he would have.

His - hers - his - hers - his hand whipped out, cracking against a cabinet, and he heard more splinters, felt the shattering of bone beneath his skin, and he wondered dimly if he would ever be able to even use that hand again because surely not, surely not if it was this agonizing. Blood - Ian's blood ran down the back of his hand, dripping slowly onto the floor.

He wanted to die.

He wondered if dying was less painful than living, because living sure was hell.

Promise me, Nevada had said. Promise me you'll go on living, even without me.

I can't, he thought now, grief etched in every part of his heart, his mind, his soul. I can't do this. I'm not strong enough. I don't want to live anymore, I just want to die, I just want to leave, I want to...

Shiloh's face swam in front of his line of vision, a bright smile on his face.

"I think I love you, Ian."

He hadn't been able to say it back, hadn't been able to even get the words out in an alternate world he'd thought was a dream. But here, on the verge of death, or so he thought, all he could think about was Shiloh. His face, his warm hands holding Ian's, the smile on his face when he was happy, the way his lips felt, warm and gentle against his own.

The soft sound of his voice, the kindness of his heart.

The way his face had looked when Ian had told him the biggest lie of his entire life.

He wondered what Shiloh's face would look like if Ian was dead.

I'm sorry, Ian thought. I'm sorry.

I'm sorry please forgive me I'm so sorry please don't leave me don't ever leave me I can't leave you here alone I can't do that no don't leave me don't leave me I want to stay with you I'm sorry I ******** things up I'm so sorry please I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I ******** things up I messed everything up I was trying to protect you but I was trying to protect myself too and then I just didn't want you to get hurt but I hurt you I'm so sorry I can't do this I can't leave you alone I can't be without you I need to tell you that

I love you

I love you I love you I love you I love you

He was screaming now inside of his head, desperation and fury and agony and everything all at once.

GET OUT OF ME GET OUT OF ME STOP IT GET OUT OF ME

enoh love

 

[Enoh Love]

Amrita couldn't hear the man plead for forgiveness, nor did she hear him scream at her to release him. No amount of struggling slowed her; his only saving grace was his height, and the simple fact that his body was larger than she was used to. She was making due with what she had though, and managed to keep him moving despite the weight and the increasing pain radiating from the torn hand.

"The world would be better off without you." Ian's voice said, his gaze locking on the reflection in the mirror. "One less person to get in the way. One less person to ruin everything." There was something in the voice that tapered off almost thoughtfully, and a strange expression overcame the Hunter's features: it brimmed with a gruesome realization. The better of the two hands reached out to the mirror, backward fingers nudging their way under a sharp looking shard of glass. It was pried from the remains of the mirror, the piece splintering, the edges gleaming dangerously.

"This is for the best." The tone of the voice had changed, but the eye contact with the mirror resumed. "Nobody will be able to use you any more." The voice began to shake; Amrita was no longer talking to Ian. She was making peace with herself now, her anger melting away under exhaustion until only the heavier pain remained. "You won't be able to hurt anyone." She looked down, staring at the mirror shard grasped in her borrowed hand.

"They'll be better off without you." She repeated with Ian's voice, the tone cracking with despair. Her friends...they'd be sad, she was sure of it; but in the end, this was for the best. She could end it all before someone else did it for her; on her own terms, without being made to hurt one of her own in the process...and she could take a Hunter with her. Two threats removed, with one mirror shard.

It was for the best, she repeated to herself, in her own thoughts.

She caught the reflection of the Hunter in the shard as she forced him to bring the jagged edge to his own throat. Using his lungs, she drew in a deep breath, and finally understood the sense of comfort it could provide. She was okay with her decision, and whether or not he was to was not a concern of hers; it wouldn't affect him for much longer, anyway.

The tip of the shard pressed into the flesh on the right side of the Hunter's neck, offering a pinch of pain as it broke through a layer of skin.

It was going to be okay.

It dug in deeper, and Amrita forced his gaze on the broken reflection, watching the bead of blood grow heavy enough to slide down tanned flesh. More of the edge followed, pressing against skin with a purpose.

This was for the best.

The Hunter's eyes closed. The borrowed body was still for a few more seconds as its occupant made their peace. All it took was pressure, and a quick pull - the jagged edge ripped through flesh and sinew, tearing a long, gaping line. She gasped, or at least tried to, and stumbled. The wound bled, dampening the pristine jacket and clothing underneath a deep red that spread fast as the life drained from the borrowed body.

Lips moved as if saying something, but no words came out. The heavy body stumbled backwards a pace or two, before a broken chair caught the retreating foot. With the balance lost the body hit the ground, sprawled out on his back with nothing more to look at but the blurry, obscured ceiling. The man's form twitched with death throes, the chest heaving in a futile attempt to regain life -

He went still.

The Hunter's head lolled to the side, unseeing eyes open and staring.

The mirror's shard was still clenched tightly in one hand.

kuroopu

 

[kuropeco]

He could scream and shout and beg and plead as loud and as long as he could and yet it would never hear him. He could scream until his voice was raw, until there was no breath left in his lungs, until all the life had gone out of his chest, and it would still never hear him.

He was in a glass box, unbreakable, unable to be shattered except the pieces of his mind.

No, he thought, no no no, I already decided, I decided to live please let me live please no I decided I'm living I have to go back I have to go back to him I NEED TO GO BACK TO HIM I CAN'T LEAVE HIM ALONE LET ME OUT LET ME OUT LET ME OUT!

He could see his own reflection in the mirror, his broken and battered hands, and then he was reaching out and he couldn't stop it, he couldn't prevent it; his fingers wedged beneath the glass and yanked a piece free, and he could feel the sharp edges against his skin. He knew what was coming before it came, and he shrieked, desperation filling every inch of what was left of him, thick and cloying and please let me live don't do this don't do this LET ME GO LET ME OUT -

His hand lifted, of the creature's accord, and Ian tried, his mind in agony as he tried in vain to force the hand away, but there was no stopping it, no stopping it, and -

- the line of glass touched the side of his neck -

(It was cold, surprisingly cold; he'd thought that it would have been warm from his own hands, but it was icy.)

- the glass began to drag; pain split through his skull, and every shriek that he made was unheard except to his own ears. He didn't even know if Naomi could hear him anymore, if the creature could hear him, but whatever was happening was happening to the both of them.

The glass pressed deeper, and then a quick, jagged, deep cut, and Ian gasped, choking on a breath that rattled in his lungs. He wanted to raise a hand to his throat, stop the bleeding that had begun to seep down his neck, but the body was no longer his, and he could no longer control its actions.

His coat was red.

He tried to speak.

(Nothing came out.)

Shiloh, Ian thought, and the body - Ian - wavered, stumbling to its knees. He couldn't see anymore, his vision black, and the pain had disappeared, melted away to nothing more than a terribly peaceful numbness. Shiloh I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I wanted to come back and tell you that I made a mistake. That I love you, that I love you I love you I love you, I made a mistake.

I made a mistake. I didn't want to hurt you but I hurt you and I'm so sorry.

Please forgive me.

Forgive me I lo -

His thoughts obscured, blurred, melted away, and then he fell to his back. He twitched once, twice, and then -

- nothing.

enoh love

ol-j-man

PAGING JACK