Black Blood [Mylee]

[cass]

Patch Grey

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Patch stared at her. He stared into the eyes that he loved the eyes that could light up his world and the only thing in the world that could stop him. Patch’s fists slowly slackened as his rage eased. No other person in the world could, make Patch so calm this quickly and to be honest no person in the world could calm Patch down except for Leah. She was and always will be to him his star, she was the good to his bad and there was a lot of bad in Patch. Patch was known for picking a fight for the most stupid reasons. He was known for killing a boy, but was never caught as they had no proof. It had looked like the boy had hung himself. Who had been his constant companion through all this? Leah. Now he stood facing her his face tied in a deep scowl.

He had been about to punch a little boy no older than six in the face. He had been about to kill that little boy for poking his tongue out at Patch. Patch had growled kicking the little boy. His mother had stupidly stood in between. Patch instantly hit her knocking her out cold. He had been about to hit the cowering, crying little piece of crap when Leah popped in. The sight of her made Patch melt, she was everything he wanted, calm, patient, bloodthirsty and beautiful. She was perfect. Now Patch stood staring into her angry eyes. Patch never felt bad, except when Leah was disappointed in him. He was a whole different person around Leah. Patch glared at Leah.

She returned his glare colder. Patch didn’t want to cause a scene not like he already had , stepping over the dead unconscious mother Patch walks away. It took every scrap of energy he could to not turn around. Patch walked away from no fight. He never loosed. Sometimes every relationship has its problems. Patch took one last look in time to see Leah help the very confused mother to her feet. Than the brick wall of the dirty district nine street covered them. This street was quiet, it was nice and peaceful. It was unusual for a street at this time of the day to be quiet. People were normal out and about this late in the evening. A time when the cold weather gave a short respite, when the sun seemed to be at its hottest; the best part of a winter day.

Patch felt no happiness or glee, all he felt was a burning hatred to kill everyone in the district. He wanted to see them cry in pain, he wanted them to cower beneath him. It felt so good when you saw people cringing from you, when you saw people in agony because of what you had done. Patch smiled to himself, it quickly turned into a scowl as he realised as long as Leah was around he would never have that. Even though she loved blood and pain as much as he did, she didn’t want to go on killing sprees. She had to have a purpose, fun wasn’t good enough. Scowling Patch glares at the brick wall in front of him. It was stained and old. Perfect to take his anger out on. With the ease of practice and with a lot of frustration Patch punches the brick wall. His knuckles slam into the wall, and he flinches in pain. A bone snaps and he drags his hand away, leaving behind a smear of blood.

It felt good.

Patch eyes the bloodied hand, it looked horrible and he was sure that he had broken his middle finger and had dislocated another, but the pain felt good. Patch wasn’t afraid of it and the painful throb in his hand only egged him on. He wanted to find someone, someone for him to sure the pain with. The little boy hadn’t gotten it, the mother had gotten a little, but Leah had stopped it all from getting too carried away. There was no one here to stop Patch now. His cold eyes scan the empty street and with a grin that looked something from a horror movie he headed away to find someone to give a little pain to.

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[Deleted]

Don't laugh at a youth for his affectations; he is only tying on one face after another to find a face of his own.
~Logan Pearsall Smith

Bentley walked the streets, walking around his territory, his turf. He eyed the people the trees, the sidewalk. Don't step on it, you did didn't you? You might want to step off now, it looks like he is coming our way. Bentley was scanning the area and he saw Patch. Bentley's eyes opened wide. Whoa, Patch, Patch Grey? Here. It was a dad gum miracle. Of course Bentley couldn't be scared. He'd lose his masculinity.

Bentley's mind flooded with thoughts. What should I do? Approach him? Run for your life like hellhounds are chasing you? Act tough? He decided to just be calm. He sat down and looked around. Pretend he isn't there he said to himself. He won't hurt you, I mean not you. Your Bentley, this is your area. You aren't totally terrified to pee your pants of Patch.

He remembered a sunny day when he was about eleven. He remembered a girl he had liked was talking to him, and a bully had walked up and gave him a wedgie. This made him mad, and why he was the way he was I guess. He didn't feel like being picked on, so he picked on others.

[cass]

Patch laughed as he realised there was someone on this street. He laughed harder when he realised he had no clue who it was. That would make this all so much more enjoyable. A smile slowly crept onto his face at the thought of blood, pain and agony. Even though his hand throbbed, he enjoyed the sensation as it felt nothing like the pain this boy was going to get. It felt nowhere near as good as seeing someone cower under you and scream for mercy. Patch unclenched his fist relaxing his hands, he slowly moved his broken hand up to his head, and grabbing it with his other hand he pulled the dislocated fingers back into place. He didn’t even flinch at the pain, he didn’t cringe at the cracking sound, he just kept walking. The street was empty, not a soul in sight. It was peaceful and quiet, the perfect place to kill someone. He wanted someone to die, Leah had made him angry, but he would never take it out on her, he would never hurt her, he loved her.

He ignored the disappointment that he knew Leah would have, that didn’t matter, nothing matter about her any more, right now all he wanted was the blood and the feeling of skin tearing beneath his grasp.