I have no idea where this came from, I wrote it on a whim. Flames are welcome, I know I can't write. But if you do not enjoy what happens, please refrain and keep your opinions to yourself. I warned you, but if you find the spelling, grammar, or word usage wrong, please tell me. But subject matter was warned about, like I said, this is not for the faint of heart, nor Edward lovers. I do hope you enjoy this morbid thing I came up with. =)


Finally. My truck groaned to a slow stop, and I shifted the gears. With a creak, the stick clanked to the parked position. I got out, and closed the door behind me, locking it out of habit. I looked up at the large white structure looming above me, avoiding naming it out of some form of self-preservation, even if it was to such a small degree. I walked, up the long stone staircase, through the elegant threshold, up to the third story, down the hall, to the last room on the left. I took a deep breath, steeling myself.

The door swung open, and this time I actually took in my surroundings. The big black couch that dominated the room was covered in a white sheet. The shelves, once filled with music of every genre imaginable, were bare. There was a lone table, the surface finally showing after the countless journals of an endless life were removed.

Memories, treasures to some, horrors to me, flooded my senses. The smells, sounds, tastes, touches, sights, all of everything I had experienced what seemed so long ago returned. In actuality, it was only two weeks or so ago. Yet it had been an eternity to my broken heart.

I gasped at the intensity, the vividness, the pain. I fell, knees hitting the wooden floor with a thump. My numb body did not feel it. My hands scratched at my scalp, grasping hair, scraping ears, pulling as if to extract all of the pain causing thoughts. I felt none of it, just the throbbing wound punched through my chest.

I stayed there a while, collecting myself and quieting sobs I hadn't realized I'd been making. After what seemed forever, I straightened, heaving myself over to the dust covered sheet. Odd, how the dust had collected so quickly.

I brushed my fingers along it, examining the fine powder as it built on my finger. I glared angrily at it, feeling such shocking envy that I wished to break something, though I refrained. The dust, so simple in its complexity, mocked me as it sat upon the tip of my finger, worry-free and painless.

I actually wished in that moment to become dust. To be so simple and light, to just exist without purpose as it did. But I choked on bile as I realized that that had been how I was the last two weeks. My father sympathized, being how he had gone through something similar, but I could tell he was growing weary of my screams in the night, of my lack of motivation to even get out of bed in the morning. That always brought an internal battle; sleep my life away with nightmares, or realize that those nightmares are, in fact, true.

There was a faint creak, but I disregarded it. I had been prone to hearing things. Though a random noise was not quite it, being that it was usually more, usually words that cut deep and had me doubled over, heaving. It will be as if I never existed. I don't want you to come with me. You're no good for me.

So true, so obvious. I felt stupid and ashamed for briefly tricking my mind otherwise, for believing he wanted me, and that I was good enough for him. Then again, I never really believed that I was good enough for him; I just stored the concerns away. Stupid, stupid of me. I doubled the pain in the end, where pain was unnecessary. But, I could not deny one lie, one fault he made. I could never believe he didn't exist, for he had removed most of the physical reminders. But those words, so vivid and real, in the voice I wanted to hear the most. Or the times at night, I'd lie awake, day dreaming of kissing him, holding him. I'd gaze at the scar, so real and terrifying, remembering the day my life was saved. I'd awaken from the temporary stupor with the whisper of lush lips on mine, and cry and berate myself for straying so far into forbidden territory.

There were small plops now, before a shatter of delicate glass. Muffled curses drifted up my way, and I wondered what was happening, my heart skipping two beats as I stumbled toward the source of commotion. Had he come for me, had I finally gotten my happy ending? My pace quickened, along with my fluttering heart.

"Edw—" I stopped cold, as I saw two figures hunched over a bag and colored glass. A vase, I suppose, but I paid hardly any attention as they spun quickly, looking at me. All I saw were two pairs of green eyes, and mouths opened in a wide O. The rest was hidden behind black wool masks, made for skiers.

The surprised look quickly left, as their mouths formed sickening grins that made me shiver, their eyes running the length of my body. I stepped back, and they advanced toward me, mouths only stretching wider as their eyes flashed with evil intentions. One reached into his pocket, and I looked toward the movement. A flash of silver was all I needed as I sucked in the breath it would take to scream.

The one without a hand in his pocket lunged, tackling me as a warm hand clamped onto my mouth. He brought me up with him as I squirmed helplessly, trying to bite at the back of his hand. It was curved just so, revealing that he knew what I was trying to do. Whether from me or past experience, I wasn't sure. I shivered involuntarily, and soon the edges of their mouths were hidden behind their masks, as big as their sickening smiles were.

"Well, how about our luck?" the one behind me said, tightening his grip and bringing me flush against his body. The other leaned forward, rubbing my arm almost as if to sooth me, though the gesture was only mocking. "You're right. We get rich, and get to play, what great luck we've got!" he chuckled, his hand wandering along my collarbone, flinging back hair.

The other laughed, "You really want to?"

I was confused as to what they were talking about. They considered it playing to commit murder? I wasn't sure what to think of that, but my body reacted, trying to flail, looking for some sort of leverage.

The one that was not holding me trailed one index finger down from my throat, down the valley between my breasts. I was wearing a thin shirt, as the cold did not affect the numb. "Yeah," he breathed, his voice becoming darker and heavier.

Something hard and foreign pressed against my side as the other shifted me, and slight nausea brought realization as to what "play" meant. I was dragged away from the dining room, and we began across the front hall. The door burst open then, revealing someone I was so glad to see.

"Dad!" I screamed, but it was muffled. He looked horrified as he took the scene in, hands shaking with the gun he held. Oh god.

He cleared his throat, straightening, trying to look unaffected. My eyes watered as I watched him, being so brave when putting himself in such danger.

"Let go of her," he breathed, anger and fear mixing as his raised gun continued to shake. I prayed for more police officers to burst through in that moment, just like they did in films, but the only sound was a bellowing laugh.

There was a bang, and I heard something whip by my ear, no farther than a foot away. My father gasped, eyes shooting open wide as he looked down. I wondered then why the town's police department never invested in bulletproof vests. The dark blue jacket he wore was becoming darker, almost black. It was seeping slowly, and began to pool on the floor as he fell. I screamed, struggling to get to him and hold him. But soon, I was pushed down to join him, stomach on the cold tile of the floor.

I heard ripping, and felt cold on my torso. Snapping as my bra was pulled out from under me. I heard tearing, and my legs shivered as they collided with bare tile. Finally, the last of what I was wearing was pulled off, revealing my most private areas.

There were chuckles, and then heavy warmth. The snapping of the teeth of a zipper coming undone, clanging as a belt buckle hit the floor. Pain.

Immense, burning, it felt as if I was being ripped in two. It traveled down my legs, reverberating through my body, up my spine and sending my mind in spirals as I cried out at the intrusion. Warm, sickly smelling blood trickled out, wetting my thighs. Curses and laughs were behind me, as the figure above grew more heated each minute. But by the moment I could only feel myself growing colder under my father's saddened gaze.

I cried out with each harsh thrust, trying hard yet failing to forget what was happening. Forget that my dying father got to watch his only daughter violated by his two murderers in his last moments; forget that I had little time myself.

I reached, stretching a sore arm towards someone that had loved me unconditionally, and had died to save me, losing in the end; the one that got to watch helplessly as his nightmares unfolded before him. I stretched, tips of my fingers trying to touch him one last time. My arm was warm and wet, and I felt disgusted as I saw the growing puddle of red, leaking heavily from his chest.

He reached too, slowly dragging his arm. Blood was pushed my way, seeping along a crack straight under my chin. I was ready to heave, not only at the fact that it was blood, but that it was coming from my own father's slowly fading heart. I choked on air, and he continued to drag his arm toward me.

Our fingertips almost brushed, maybe an inch away, when I was dragged backward, leaving a trail of crimson film. His eyes saddened as he wheezed out a breath, and let a tear form.

"Dad…" I whispered.

He stayed silent, the lone tear trailing a path down his slack face. Cackles sounded behind me, and I just noticed that the intrusion in my body was gone. I was in another room, and the door quickly shut. "Get up slut, look at me," one of the men said.

I did so, giving up as the last look to adorn my father's face seared itself into my memory.


I turned, continuing to throw random things into the bag. I was moving slowly around my room, dragging my feet as I pushed the heap of clothes down. I was getting ready to move in with my mother, after the recent murder of my father. It wasn't even a week ago that I was beaten and raped, and he was killed for it. I remembered hearing the story from saddened townspeople.

Supposedly, a couple driving on the road saw a suspicious car with men wearing ski masks heading toward the Cullen residence. I laughed bitterly at the fact that I didn't even wince, but what point was there? I gave up. I did that a few days ago, submitting myself to the wishes of my father's killers.

The police were called, and my father went without back up, to help the situation. It was known that the Cullens were rich, but he figured it was teens trying to make a quick buck. He would have even let them go with a warning, what with his great heart.

He came across me, and died trying to save me from something that happened anyway. I was later found in a ditch, and pieces of him were strewn near me. I remembered wrenching the food I hadn't eaten when hearing that. The men weren't found, and no one knew that I was raped. They just thought that I was beaten and traumatized, and that's all I'd allow them to believe.

My mother was coming for me now, and I needed to be ready, as she would be here within moments. As if on cue, there was a knock on the door. I went down the stairs, wincing at the soreness between my legs. I was relieved that I was not pregnant, though, so I would have to deal with it.

I opened the door, expecting my mother, and tears, long since shriveled and dry, filled my eyes. How I missed her so, and what a wonderful thing it would be to finally see her again.

A sorrowful policeman stood there instead, Harold, the one who replaced my father. My heart ached, thinking of him. I shook it off, backing away to welcome him in. He nodded wearily, but didn't sit. Instead, he hung his jacket, and walked over to me, wrapping me in a hug.

I returned it, patting his broad back slightly. He sniffled a bit, before pushing me at arm's length, looking deep into my eyes with his own watered and sad. "You have your father's eyes…" he whispered softly, hugging me again before taking a deep breath and backing away. I furrowed my brow at his behavior, as he had only acted this way at the funeral.

"Have a seat sir," my voice croaked from disuse, and there was little hope in it. He gazed at me softly, taking my hand and setting me on the couch.

He paced in front of me, worried to his wit's end about god knows what. I briefly wondered where my mother was, but she was always late, so it was just a fleeting thought in the back of a cramped head, barely there.

He sighed, raking his hand through his hair, plopping on the couch next to me. He turned, facing my way, took both my hands in his, rubbing comforting circles on the backs. He licked his lips, determination mingling with sorrow in his eyes.

"Sweetie…" he began, "I'm…I'm sorry to tell you this…but you…your…your mom…and Phil…they died honey. The plane they were in, they crashed somewhere out in a field in Colorado. There weren't any survivors. It was sudden, they were in a storm. The electrical circuits went out, and increased turbulence decreased the thrust, they stalled, and crashed. I know a lot's been happening, but sweetie, you need to know that everything is okay. We're looking for a foster home, and there's a family in Idaho looking for a temporary mature girl. They seem well, and are nice folks.

"We'll send you to finish school down there, and then you can do what you want. I know it hurts honey, but we're here. I tried to ask Billy to take you, since he was the closest to Charlie, and you have no other family. But I guess he's busy 'cause his son, Jake, ran away or something. This is our best bet sweetie.

"You know I'd take you in myself, hell, half of Forks would, but times are hard round here. You know that. Sweetie, this is the only thing we can do. It's only for 'bout eight months, then you'll be okay. You can call me anytime; I'll be here for ya. I know this is hard, but stay strong, you know it's what your dad would've wanted. We're here for ya sweetie. Please remember that."

I was shocked to say the least, my mind blanking. I was surrounded by white, and it was as comforting as smothering. There were walls, blocking the screams of thoughts that brought truth with them. Silence stretched, and when broken, it shattered my weak defenses. Realization hit me hard. Love, gone; family, dead. Everyone was leaving me, alone in such a hard and hateful world. Who else would leave too?

I stood, and he stood with me. I puffed out my chest, taking a deep breath, but I buckled. He caught me, and I sobbed into his chest.

Both of my parents were gone forever. The love of my life left me, and had never really loved me in the first place. My second family left too, without a word. Suddenly, immense hate and loathing built in my stomach, for if thought about, it was their fault.

If they were still there, no one would have broken into their abandoned mansion. If so, I would've been there, but not broken and alone and unprotected as I was. My father would have never been killed, never needing to tend to a break-in. I wouldn't have had to move in with my mother, and she wouldn't have been on the exact plane that crashed, saving her life and my stepfather's.

But they had left, and my life began to fall apart. Now I could only hope to go to a loving family that wouldn't leave…or die. Now all of that happened, and it was their fucking fault. I sobered then, wiping away the tears furiously, stomping upstairs and grabbing the bag, ready to travel to my new home; my new life.


The final bell rang, and I groaned, pulling my sleeves down lower. I dreaded it, school ending. School was a peaceful place, somewhere where I could get lost in thought, whether it was Calculus, English, History. It didn't matter; I could always find a way to forget everything.

I seemed to have these thoughts every time it was time to go…back. I would never call that place home. It was a whorehouse, made of teenage girls. Those sick, twisted beings always made it look as if they ran off, then look for another in a different state. We lived in the basement, sleeping on cots and wearing skimpy things that were see-through as we walked around serving them, calling them things like "master" or "Daddy". It was disgusting.

We had our names changed, but only our last names. Then we went to school in a little town in Idaho, with a population of 500. It was very rural, and no one ever heard our screams. I was kept from associating from other girls, because we might plan an escape. We also had no idea what the name of the town was, so we didn't know how to get out.

Everything had gone down the drain, everything I had held dear and loved. I lost a love, and a family. Then my parents, was beaten and raped, and now got sold off for a night or two. I had truly grown to hate the Cullens, this being their fault. I was blinded by fury just thinking their names.

I wasn't sure if I was just sticking my own responsibility on them, but I know I didn't start any of this. I was just in love with a boy, and he turned out to be a vampire. From there, he never really loved me, and didn't want me. He took my second family, and their actions set off a domino effect that killed my real parents.

Now I was here, tending to Sir, or whatever his name was. And his brother, who preferred Master. I saw the van pull up, and seven other girls flocked to it, all from different buildings. They had made sure we never crossed paths.

I opened the van, and slid in. The others followed, and they both turned around to look at us. They stared long and hard, and then I remembered that I was supposed to start today. With a sigh, I began to strip, finally in the leather they wanted me to wear. It was blood red, with straps and chains everywhere. We had to wear clothes five sizes too big to hide them.

The drive was silent, and I just stared out the window, wallowing in self-pity and hate. Hate for everything; everyone, even myself. I was so tired, everything was falling, slowly. It was all so heavy, the world sitting on my shoulders. Everything was horrible and hateful, and nothing went right. I had nothing to my name; none of us did. Though I never even spoke to them, there was still a kinship there, as they had gone through much of the same experiences as I had.

We arrived back to Hell, as I called it. We filed out, and I was in the lead, as usual. I wasn't sure why, but I was the one the Masters seemed to enjoy parading around the most. And I was only for sale to the highest bidder, and had to be at a minimum of three grand, or I'd just get another night with one of them. I wasn't sure why, but I was like their highest possession, their best treasure. Which meant I was fucked senseless, more so than the other girls. Fucking lovely.

"Hey, get your ass over here," I looked up into the darkened eyes of one of our masters, and sighed. He grinned, loving that he had such control over me. had given up completely a long time ago, and I just sighed. I dragged myself to the bedroom, and didn't come out that night.

It was dark as I listened to his soft snores, drunken puffs of breath blowing across my face. I crinkled my nose in disgust, turning my head toward the window to escape the smell. We were still joined, as he had passed out on top of me from having too much to drink. If I wasn't void of emotions, I might have laughed. Then again, it probably wasn't possible with being barely able to breathe, since he was literally on top of me. I groaned, trying to shift, yet still unable to.

There was a creak, and I focused on the sound, coming from the window. There was a flash of fire, and I could swear I was hallucinating. I sighed; it wouldn't be the first time. But then, someone I never dreamed of seeing again jumped through, landing gracefully on her feet and smiling something scary. Her eyes burned with anger, smile beautiful and deadly in an angelic face, and her kid-like voice shrilled musically as she paced over and snapped the neck of the man on top of me. I gaped.

"Hello Isabella," she lifted him of me, and glanced under the comforter, raising an eyebrow, "Really? So…does Eddy boy approve of…" she hesitated, looking back under once again as I felt hate flood my stomach, "this?"

"Probably not," I replied coolly, "but I really don't give a fuck anymore." I sighed at the end, the tired, constant depression creeping back in.

"Tsk tsk," she tutted me, shaking her head, "why would you do such a thing to someone who killed for you? Are you really that shallow and pathetic?"

"No!" I snapped, ignoring that it would probably kill me, oh well, I was going to die anyway, "That…fucker left me in the dust. No one wants me, no one loves me. Have your fill of my blood bitch, because you'll be giving me exactly what I want."

She smiled, "You know, if you weren't the reason for my James's death, I might have liked you. You've got balls. But then again," she leaned towards me, cool breath in my face as her expression darkened, "it was those balls that killed him in the first place."

"So?" I asked, almost curiously. How was this going to end?

"So…I came here to make you suffer and kill you. But, killing you won't make you suffer…so what will?" she raised an eyebrow, grinning a cat-ate-the-canary kind of grin.

"I can think of one thing," she said, leaning in and smelling me. "You know, you have a pretty delicious scent. More so than others. I hope I can…stop…" she mumbled as she came closer, her face disappearing as there was a sharp pain in my neck.

The trilling bells of a laugh, faint motion, cold tile…fire.


The colors were all so sharp, everything was loud and obnoxious as the scents

I ran, taking off into the night as I saw something small bouncing merrily in the road. There were more, all mouthwatering. I smiled huge, running to them as dusk stretched over the sky in a hazy mist of colors. There was a faint glimmer to my skin as I reached for one of the delectable things. Snapping its neck, I saw shock as the others took a breath to scream. I went, killing all four before draining them all.

When I was done, I looked down to see the blank look of the dead; not unfamiliar to me. A child, a small girl with dulled green eyes and curly blonde hair strewn up in pigtails. A pink blouse, tarnished with her blood, covered her torso, and her legs were in shorts, made of denim. She wore small sandals, with little yellow flowers. She was adorable, as were her friends.

And yet, there was no remorse as I expected, but a self-satisfied grin. I caused someone pain, and many more when they found their dead children. I laughed, tinkling bells of silver rebounding through the air as I realized that I was no longer receiving grief, but giving grief. And somehow, that small act of playing God pleased me.

I lost track of how many humans I had tortured and killed my first year, laughing all the way. Though the high had dulled with time, I kept in mind that this was the natural order, what I was supposed to do. I kept to my city, learning how to hunt without suspicion arising within its walls. I was merry as I fucked and killed them, torturing them endlessly. Each agonized scream of theirs silencing my own.

Children, seniors, men, women, poor, rich, they all died by my hand. I knew everything of death; the horrified look before the peaceful acceptance, the flattening of the eyes after about five minutes after they die, the scraping sound of the bowel movements as they wheezed out a last plea for help. I loved it all, cherishing every moment and awaiting another.

Hunting was my passion, my reason. It consumed my thoughts, clouded my emotions, lived my life. I was a huntress, and in the fleeting moments I had seen mirrors, a beautiful one at that. My existence was simply hunting, all a game in which I won every time. No one could beat me, I knew this. I loved my life, my hunting, my killing. I was a monster in every sense of the word, and I loved it every second of the day; ignoring my screams and sobs when I had nothing to keep me busy and free from thinking.

Each day, or more specifically, night, I followed a trail of scents in the main square. The housewives gossiped in the night about me about "newcomers", but I ignored it as I smelt scents completely foreign to me. They looped back toward my shelter, smelling so similar to my own. They were not human. I growled.

They had followed me, and there were seven. I was outnumbered, but I would win. I always did. I knew the territory, was stronger than…I sniffed again…animal drinkers, and had immense power. All of the hate and pain from my human life had obviously brought forward the inner fury that was key to power; gifts of the mind. I had something amazing, and though it was one thing, it was all.

I could bend matter, and stretch reality like the thin rubber it was, on a whim.

Anything could happen when around me; demons could ascend from hell, the sky could turn black and rain blood, a deadly poison could wipe out the entire population, the sun could die out on the spot. I had done it all, and undid it when it was too much. Owning the power made me invincible to it, my own attacks leaving me unharmed.

But I knew, somehow I knew that my power was linked to an unsatiated hate and fury within me. I wasn't sure why, as my memories from that other time were distorted with fire and death, but I knew this. I needed someone's blood on my hands, and without it, these powers came.

Suddenly, the smell of spilled blood reached me as a wife stumbled in the darkness. I smiled wide, stalking toward the scent slowly, the burn in my throat agonizing and oh so thrilling. I saw her, holding her nose as she winced slowly, at a human speed. I grinned even wider, crouching. But, as I was about to pounce, thick arms that were cool enough to feel normal to me wrapped around my body.

A piercing shriek filled the air as I screamed my protest, thrashing until the one dragging me away let go. I didn't turn toward whoever it was, nor the presences just behind it.

"We request you don't hunt on this land," came a disturbingly familiar voice, laced with authority, anger, and disgust. I growled, before memories clearer than ever before, assaulted me. I remembered that voice, fixing injuries as his son gazed at me lovingly, holding my hand. And his son, the one who left me and my family to die.

My lip curled as the growl deepened into menacing words, "You will leave, or you shall die."

I heard a chortle, and I turned sharply and glared as gasps sounded. The one who laughed, Emmett, let his jaw drop.

"Bella?" the voice was weak and pained, and I turned to the one who broke me and crumbled me to dust. Nothing but hate consumed me.

"What the fuck do you want? I told you. LEAVE!" I shouted in the same low voice, mixing it with a growl.

They all took a step toward me, and suddenly, more came. Edward, my lip curled again, began to speak, "Bella, this is the Denali coven, Carmen, Eleazar, Kate, Irina, Tanya, and her mate, Stephen. He can see memories, and you know the rest…don't you?"

Memories. The word brought them on full force as everything once locked in my head, fuzzy and muddled became clear, flashing chronologically as I dropped to my knees, reliving the pain of it all. The other two, Stephen and Edward, did also, sobbing with me.

After it was over, we all straightened as Stephen stared at me sorrowfully, and he looked to be full of dread. Edward turned to his family, looking agonized and guilty, "She…she went to our house after we left. She was just…standing there. But then, there were burglars…they had a gun, and they…they raped her, and killed Charlie. She never said anything about the rape, and then…Renee came to get her…and died in a plane crash…she was sent to an abusive home, before being changed and abandoned by Victoria."

Red mist clouded my vision as moans of agony and sobs came from the group of traitors before me. I remembered now, as well as they, that it was their fault. "It was all our fault…" he whispered, repeating my hateful thoughts.

"Time to atone for your sins Cullens," I growled as the mist crawled away, excitement of the hunt taking its place.

I grinned a sickly smile, before allowing them to experience the worst pain of their life. They moaned, clutching their heads and various parts of their body as they yelled and screamed wordlessly, writhing. I stopped, and they didn't have time to straighten before I swooped in, screeching. I went for the unknown coven first, tearing their heads off and lighting a fire with my ability.

They were first to go, as they were just "in with the wrong crowd" so to speak. They had not killed me, but the others had.

I then turned to the two blonde siblings. They looked at me with terror in their eyes as I advanced on the female, Rosalie. I relived the rape, allowing her to feel it too as the fiery pain of being split in half nearly brought me to my knees. But I pushed it to her as she screamed and cried and sobbed, begging for an end. I ripped off her legs and arms, then her head and threw her into the fire. I repeated the same thing to the male, Jasper.

I turned my attention to the mother and the father. They had hurt me more than the last, and so I doubled the pain, and brought them straight to the ground. But then, I reached forward, ripping off the man, Carlisle's, hands and feet, then his arms and legs, and finally, his head. I treated the mother, Esme, the same.

I turned to Emmett and Alice, big brother and best friend. They hurt me even more than the parents had, and so I took a different approach. I pushed their matter inward, making them feel as if they were imploding. They screeched, tumbling down to the floor. I allowed them to stay like that as Edward was frozen in shock. And finally, I stepped forward, ripping off their fingers and toes, then their hands and feet, and then their arms and legs, ending on their head. My fire was building, and I grinned as I combined everything on Edward, allowing him to scream and sob and beg and apologize. It all fell on deaf ears.

Finally, after hours of growing bored of his pointless writhing, I stopped and grinned, stripping him of his clothes. He was too weak to push me away, and when he was disrobed, I grinned. I started on his fingernails, plucking them and loving the screams. Then his toenails. I wrenched each tousled bronze strand of hair from his head, and pulled away each tooth. I ripped his nose away, along with each eyelash and hair on his brow. I did away with his ears, and then his jaw. I ripped away each knuckle of every finger individually, laughing happily. I pulled his hands away, followed by his toes and feet. Then, I ripped a chunk of flesh from all over his arms and legs, leaving bare bone. I snapped them, before throwing them away. I reached forward, and ripped away his manhood. I continued, ripping and tearing away organs and flesh and bone until he was a screaming head with nothing but a spine and a heart.

"Do you want to know what you did to me?" I whispered, before shredding the lone organ, throwing each scrap over my shoulder and onto the fire. I took each vertebrate apart one by one, and then ripped his scalp and the top of his skull away, and took in his brain. I leaned down, knowing that he was still quite capable of hearing me. "You should have used this," I whispered, pecking his mangled cheek as his eyeballs rolled in their bare sockets to watch me with dread. I pulled it out, and finally threw everything behind me.

I cackled, dancing around the fire merrily, singing songs of worship to a non-existent devil. Scratch that, to me. I knew I was pure evil in its most basic form, and I enjoyed it as the fire cracked and burned in front of me. I finally danced away when dawn approached, strutting to my cabin.

My power vanished that very day.