She was in no rush to return home. Her arms full of shopping, she made the journey last as long as possible. Weaving her way between the rushing bodies, they all moved with a purpose and urgency she couldn't understand. They were going to their homes, or it appeared that way. As she walked, she watched. And as she watched she saw the expectancy in them. Many were to return home to a loving partner; that much was clear to her as she moved through the crowded streets. It was there in their eyes, and she knew what it was, but still it was beyond her comprehension.

She hated this walk and always had. To know that when the door opened and she stepped inside, nothing would be heard but the hum of the refrigerator and the deafening silence of being alone; it filled her with fear every time.

Her feet carried her through the dimming streets and she tried to clear her mind. There always came a time when she would switch off, trying to block out all thoughts which would inevitably lead to her disappointment. Rather than feel this all day, every day, she decided she'd rather feel nothing at all. So with her head held low, her eyes wandering across the pavement, she continued her journey home with hardly a glance to anyone.

Exhaustion overwhelmed her tonight. As she walked past the small, characterless restaurant on the corner, the scent of the sweet, bitter coffee teased her nostrils. She would usually just breathe deeply as she ventured past, letting the scent tempt her until she could reach home and satisfy the sudden craving. But tonight she walked in and found a seat near the window. Placing her bags on the floor, she propped them up against the wall and leant back in the chair.

The tears began to rise as she sat, staring into the hot, dark liquid in front of her. She was staring intently into it, as though she were trying to find the answers, wishing it were her own crystal ball. But she saw nothing as she searched. There were no answers here, just as there never had been anywhere else.

The pain began to rise from deep within her with such force that she wanted to scream. She wanted to stand and scream and kick and lash out at everything that had made me her so alone. But she couldn't. Her body was frozen to her chair, and she felt so completely bereft of anything now that even the tears would begin to feel empty as they fell.

And they did fall. The tears flowed down her cheeks, burning her skin one moment, soothing the next. They fell so freely she could almost feel the depression in her flesh as the warm salty rivers rushed over her cheeks. They were allowed fall because she was powerless to stop them. She wasn't sobbing or wailing, simply crying. The silent agonising cry of the heart and soul.

Slowly, her head raised, and through eyes full of water she watched as the rain began to fall. As it hit the window it mimicked her own tears, and she was mesmerised. The tiny raindrops slid down over the perfect glass, racing then slowing, each following the trail of the one that fell before it. And as she watched, her eyes began to dry and her breathing became steadier. Raising her trembling fingers to her tear stained face, she gently wiped away the remnants of her outburst.

Then she saw him. Through the increasing darkness her eyes fell upon a man. She assumed he was a man, although his shape could barely be made out against the backdrop of the bustling street behind him. But he was just stood there, looking. He seemed to be waiting for something, yet he showed no sign of moving as the time slowly passed. She turned to glance round the café, intrigued as to who he could be watching so vehemently, and was startled to realise she was alone. Her vulnerability overwhelmed her and she tried to calm her heartbeat as she lifted her bag from the floor, preparing to make her way home.

The rain was still falling as she cautiously stepped through the door of the café and onto the busy street again. She didn't want to do this. But despite her desperation to stay, she knew she couldn't. He was burning his gaze right through to her very being and it shook her cold.

Her arms wrapped around her body as she walked, trying to rid herself of the chill she now felt. She knew it was warm in reality, she remembered feeling the humidity as she left work, but now the cold cut through her flesh like a knife. She was cold through to her core and it was clear what had caused it. It was clear who had caused it. The light, summer rain washed down over her cheeks as her mind fixed on him. His solid, manly, intimidating shape was burned in her memory. It didn't matter that she saw no features, it was his presence she saw, and it was enough.

Her legs carried her on towards home and not a second thought was given to the route she took. They carried her onward on a pillow of air, for the memory she had of the cold hard pavement below her feet. She didn't see another figure. They all blurred into one mass as they rushed past her eyes, and the air was no longer warm or cold, it just was.

Her mind was fixed on him. His heartbeat could almost be heard behind her in the steps he took. She knew he was there, and the closer he got, the more her heart raced. But she couldn't run. There was something holding her back. Something kept her within his reach, and it was filling her with an intense excitement rarely felt.

Her senses took over and she was no longer herself. Her ears burned with the intensity with which she listened. The footsteps, the rain, the traffic, the voices. They all relentlessly echoed within her. Her eyes had no focus but for her destination, and all around it may as well not have existed for the attention it drew from her. Her skin warmed and tightened all at once, and the pins and needles that started in her fingertips travelled slowly but surely along her arm and into her chest, where the sensation grew and grew until her whole body was devoured by it. The only scent to fill her nostrils was that of the rain. Warm and earthy, comforting, yet disturbing in it's heady aroma. Her taste buds danced as her mouth filled with the flavour of her desires, not yet known, but the most wondrous ingredients that would come to be the centre of her need.

This is how she travelled now, and for the first time in many years she was not alone in her journey. With every step he drew closer, but it wasn't his body drawing near, it was his essence. Each step echoed, and each breath taken had her breathing him in deeper. The only thought was her journey, yet the only need was the detour from it, and towards him.

As she neared home she gradually came back to herself. He was still there. She could feel him, but he allowed her to function again. He allowed her to be in control. He was still within her, still causing her heartbeat to quicken and her fingertips to tingle, yet giving her the space she needed to think for herself once more.

Her fingers fumbled with the keys, the lock suddenly seeming smaller than it had been. An all-encompassing sense of emptiness rushed through her as she opened the door and stepped inside. The scent that filled the house wasn't comforting like for some, it was draining, and suddenly the only need she had was to drop onto her bed, close her eyes, and dream of something, anything, to take her away from the cold, hard walls which began to close in on her.

But instead, she walked through to the kitchen and put her bags down on the table. Emptying them carefully, her mind focussed on the man who had followed her home and she suddenly felt wave after wave of wanting flood through her. Her imagination running wild, she hung her coat on the hook behind the front door and made her way upstairs.

Her cautious steps took her to the bathroom. She turned on the shower and stood where the mirror once was. Her cold hands rested on the basin and her eyes lifted to see a reflection it was impossible to see. Her hand no longer bore the scars that told of her rage. Her flesh had healed enough, that the night despair took over and she slammed her fist into the unforgiving, relentless mirror was no longer a vivid memory, but the whisper of a past that she wished to forget. But she couldn't forget. She wasn't allowed to forget. Such was her punishment, that she was forced to relive the painful days of her ugliness and loneliness forever.

She closed her eyes and drew her breath in long and deep. The warm, moist air filled her lungs as she breathed, and she slowly opened her eyes. As though in a trance, she peeled her clothes from her cold, clammy body and stepped into the shower. Her fingers eased the screen door shut behind her, and she stood beneath the warming stream of water. Her hair flattened against her face and shoulders, and as she basked under the hot water her teeth dug into her lower lip, piercing her flesh ever so slightly. The warm liquid seeped its way into her mouth, and she tasted her blood as her arms crossed over her chest and her hands rested on her shoulders. Her eyelids had dropped again and she found herself rocking to the steady rhythm of the rain beating against her window.

Washing away the stresses of the day's events, she brought herself round slowly. As she turned the dial of the shower the water stopped suddenly, and she carefully stepped from the cubicle onto the thick, soft mat. She wrapped a clean towel around her hair and slipped her black, satin robe over her body. Her mind focussed back on the man who had followed her home and she could feel his gaze burning into her once more. Her eyes scanned her surroundings but there wasn't a chance he could see her in here. The only window to the outside world was tiny, and covered with a forest green blind that she'd chosen specially because it was impervious to wandering eyes.

She opened the bathroom door and loosened the towel. Her fingers teased the soft, comforting material through her hair as she walked to the bedroom. Her skin crawled as she felt him watching again, but he was nowhere in sight. Try as she may, she couldn't find one trace of him. But he was still here, somewhere, somehow.

Her hand reached out and pushed the door open as she reached the bedroom. Still rubbing her hair, her feet carried her through the doorway without a thought. She dropped the towel onto the floor and lowered herself onto the edge of the bed, sighing so deeply that, for those who listened hard enough, her soul could be heard crying for help through the dark streets below.

No sooner had her breath left her body, than her limbs became tense. Every muscle contracted and suddenly she was terrified. He was here.

Her eyes became wide and curious as they searched the low light of the room. It was sparsely furnished, with just a bed and wardrobe pushed against two walls. There were no shadows to melt into, nothing to hide behind. So where was he?

Her focus turned towards the door and she watched intently, butterflies dancing inside her stomach, as it slowly creaked its way closed. She suddenly found she could hardly take a breath and her fingers dug firmly into the mattress as she looked at him.

His face was pale against the moonlight streaming in through the window. His midnight black hair swept back from his face and flowed over his shoulders, down his back. His dark, almost black eyes burned through the still night air and under her skin. She could feel her flesh tingle as his gaze washed over her body and up to her face.

Their eyes finally met and her breathing no longer felt laboured and shallow as it once had. Her fingers gradually released their grip on the mattress below. Her muscles were no longer tense, but loose, and she found herself rising to her feet.

Her lips parted as though to speak across the still air of the room. He raised a hand towards his face and rested a finger on his lips. She thought she heard his soft voice speak to hush her, but it could so easily have been the wind in the trees outside that she dismissed it as nothing.

He held his finger to his lips a moment longer as he took a step towards her. Her heart jumped the closer he moved, but she wasn't afraid. She was at ease. His presence calmed her, and she watched as his hand reached out from his lips and his fingers traced the line of her mouth. A small gasp escaped as his cold touch sent waves of heat throughout her body.

Her eyes closed slowly with his touch. She felt the night air shift with him as he moved closer. The only part of him touching her flesh was his finger on her lips, but now she felt his warm breath wash over her skin and her eyes opened.

She met his gaze again and saw a fire burning deep inside. But it wasn't passion. It was cruelty she saw. A monster was now stood before her. His face hadn't changed, only his eyes. The longer she looked, the more her confidence ebbed away, and the more panic crept in.

She tried to step back, but his hand, so tenderly caressing her lips a moment sooner, wrapped around her jaw. His grasp was tight and unyielding and she felt the panic and pain flood her body. It devoured her completely, and any clarity remaining was now gone. Instinct began to take over as he held her in his tight, painful grasp.

Her eyes began scanning the room for something, anything to help her out of this. But there was nothing here. Nothing but a bed and a wardrobe.

She didn't have time to think. As she stared back into those evil eyes she saw herself looking back, and before she knew what was happening her body flooded with a strength and anger long since forgotten. Her arms flew up and her hands held a vice-like grip onto his wrists. With what seemed like no effort, she threw him back against the wall. Hearing the crack of a bone, she looked down with a passion churning inside that she'd felt before. A passion kept locked away for years.

His eyes lifted towards her, and with fuelled anger he rose to his feet. An arm hung loosely by his side as he launched his body towards her. His face was distorted now, intense with pain and rage, and he pushed her back. She stumbled a little, and her hands flung up and grabbed hold of his shoulders. She wouldn't let herself fall. Not now.

Her fingers dug hard into his body and she marched towards him. Every step forward she took, he stumbled back until he was pinned flat against the wall. Her eyes met his, and she now saw fear looking back. His strength had disappeared slowly and in its place was the fear she'd felt just moments sooner. It filled her with a renewed sense of excitement. She was revelling in her newfound role.

She gradually loosened her grip on his shoulders and raised her hands to cup his face. His skin was clammy to her touch and he visibly flinched as her hands rested on his cheeks. She looked him in the eye and held his gaze, her eyes visibly glowing through the darkness. Her lips curved to a wicked smile and panic rose in his blood. He tried to writhe his way free, but her steady hands held him still. As she looked back into his eyes she could see why he panicked. The signs of her torment were visible for the first time in years, and she laughed quietly to herself.

Her eyes washed over his neck as she turned his head to one side. She could taste the fear in the air and it invigorated her. Leaning in slowly, her eyes closed as her tongue trailed up his neck to his ear. A hand moved from his face to the back of his head, where she grasped a handful of his hair, tightly wrapping it around her fingers, and cradled his head to her. He gasped as he felt the wetness of her tongue on his skin. Her slow, steady breathing echoed in his ear and he trembled.

He tried to wriggle free, but even he knew it was pointless, and he gradually became still and motionless in her unyielding grasp as he resigned himself to his fate. She turned to look back into his eyes, and saw the fear still real, still coursing through his veins. Her attention returned to his neck and she kissed her way down slowly from his ear. Her fingers pulled the collar of his shirt to one side and her teeth grazed his skin, his body tensing as she did. She I liked to tease. She loved to feel his fear grow revelled in it. It was to make him taste all the sweeter in the end.

Then she did it. She did what had been tormenting her for years. All this time denying what she really was, the killer she'd become, forcing herself to live in her own cocoon of loneliness and shame. Her teeth sank into his flesh as though it was the only thing meant to be on this earth. It was divine. As she tasted the first few drops of his sweet, warm nectar she was filled with a passion almost beyond comprehension, and all she could do was keep drinking.

Her ears tuned in to his heartbeat and she revelled in the steadily slowing rhythm. She rested his head against her as she took him into her body, cradling him in her arms, almost reassuring him as she drained his life away drop by drop.

He gradually became more and more limp the more time passed. His skin paled so slowly as to be almost impossible to see, and his erratic breath was shallow and laboured. The weaker he became, the stronger she felt. She was finally alive again. Finally, she knew what it was to be alive in her death.

She listened intently as his heart slowed to an almost inaudible beat, and pulled away. He fell like a rag doll to the floor, crumpled in a heap against the wall. His life was finally slipping away, and as he took his last calm, shallow breath, his eyes became dull and his head rocked to one side. His eyelids hung in limbo as though on the brink of sleep, and his face finally relaxed from his torment.

She looked at him one last time before dressing. As she closed the door on him she felt a heat deep inside her body, and goose bumps rose on her skin as she felt his life flow through her veins. And she smiled to herself. A deep, self-satisfied smile.

Copyright © K Wakeman