The pain. The fire. The death. It never ceases, no matter whether or not I can feel them. They still existed inside me.
Raven. That's the only name he goes by. He's too beautiful to be human, and everyone knows he has a secret. But what is it?
Thick and creamy, blood erupted from my punctured neck, warm and crimson; flowing freely down my neck, slithering to form a pool of liquid on my shoulder. I groaned in pain, knowing that I couldn't scream, yet I tried desperately. I looked up at the devilish yet beautiful face of the feral woman that was doing this to me.
I remember, though faintly, I still remember two glowing eyes boring into me. Two red eyes. At the time, I had no idea as to my surroundings, or what was going on. All I could see was her; her tousled black hair that flicked out in different directions, framing her impeccable face with a black star-like shape. Her skin was pale; almost paper-white. It looked like instead of slitting her skin, you'd crack it, though somehow, her skin looked so soft and beautiful. Her cheekbones were high and they framed the rest of her beautiful features; her crimson eyes, with a background of black, smokey shadows that faded into her white skin. Her eyelashes were thick and long, and they cast long, looming shadows over her skin.
When she smiled, I didn't notice her elongated, sharp canines, or the blood splattered around the red, plump lips. I could only focus on the beauty that was so obvious to my eyes. Everything else wasdark and lifeless to me. I realised that I felt nothing but love for this woman. I didn't even recall meeting her; I remembered nothing of that day until...her.
When her face disappeared, pain replaced it. It coursed through my veins; sparking them into the fire that I felt engulfing my body. Electricity flew through me, though I couldn't feel or acknowledge it over the flames that seemed to be licking at every inch of me.
I imagined this pain was Hell. I wasn't religious, which is why I guessed I went to Hell, but sadly, this pain was probably worse. I was burning, but I never died, and it didn't stop. It just kept getting worse. I was trying to force out a scream, but all that came out were loud grunts of pain. Nothing was going to help this.
The pain seemed to continue for years and years, but when it stopped, I had gotten used to it, but I was blissful that the pain had ceased. I was dead. I knew I was dead, because nothing could be as beautiful and lovely as this painless feeling. It felt like sleeping. My eyelids were too heavy to lift up, so I just lay there, smiling happily, waiting to be judged or whatever happened after the release.
I didn't care if Hell was what was waiting for me, as long as the pain had taken a break, even if only for a short while.