A/N- Don't own the Cal Leandros series.


Let's forget for a moment.

Let's just say that you aren't me and I'm not you. We're from completely different races, after all. Our natures are so contradictory we might as well have been born in separate wombs. Wolf-sheep spawn? Right, freakin hilarious. We know that the wolf would rip the sheep half right out. Eat it and all. Then there wouldn't be any sheep left at all. But let's forget about that bit.

Just keep on moving, keep on pressing forward.

Keep walking like you always have.

Down the hall. Feeling half dead, lazy enough to sleep for hours. Thank god Niko isn't here right now, thank god he's not scrutinizing you, stopping you in the hallway with that look of his; thank god—because you would tell him everything. No one's free with a person like that, someone so overbearing—a thief who plays savior.

But in the end he's no more than a meal. Not that you would eat him. Not that you're a wolf. You wouldn't even think of killing him, of ripping out his heart, his stomach, pulling his puzzle pieces apart bit by bit, lapping up the bitter blood and wondering, if emotions have flavors, if old Nik's would taste as bitter and betrayed as his blood.

No, you're not a monster. But look at that mirror. You blame it, you hate it. You think it forces all kinds of monsters on you, monsters like Darkling. Look at that sick, pale skin, those red eyes. Notice the way you feel so damn angry at nothing; how the hate twists your lip corners into a gruesome smile.

Monsters come from mirrors. Good morning, sunshine. We know you're in there.