Opening of the
Santa Marta Hunter Chronicle...
heavy black boots hit the pavement as he ran, his breath
coming in hard, his lungs aching. His heart hammers a
desperate beat against the inside of his ribs... It had
been an audible snap resounding in his mind when the bond
broke. He didnt know how or why, but he felt it. And he
The last fifteen years came to him in stark relief,
coming into sharp focus as he realized what had happened,
what had been done to him, what he'd been made to do...
Faces had grown blurry, names had disappeared from his
mind, but he still knew what had happened. And he
desperately wished that he didn't.
Rounding the corner, his boots slipped out from under him,
skidding on the gravel covered pavement and he went down.
The pebbles bit into his palms and ripped through his
jeans, scraping the skin from his knees. He bit down hard
on his lip to keep the cry of pain from escaping. He didn't
think Keeva was following him, he didnt even know if she
knew he had gotten free of her influence... He scrabbled
to his feet and kept running, hoping to find a safe place
to wait until daylight.
eventually finds himself hiding out in an abandoned house
in Bram Park. This was outside of their territory. Sure,
it was held by other vampires but... Well, there wasn't
any where in Santa Marta that wasn't... and his
memories seemed to suggest that the Anarchs might be
safer for him to be around than the Camarilla. And maybe
the enemy of his enemy was his friend.
And if not then they'd be next on his list when he got
through with Keeva and the rest of her...friends.
Watching the light creep in through the boarded up
windows, he decides that's what he's going to do. He's
going to get rid of those monsters -- clear them out of
Santa Marta so they can't ever do to anyone else what
they did to him.
He just...needs to find some kind of allies.
A Flash Back
stared up at the ceiling in his room, hands loosely
clenched at his sides. Digging through his memories was...Probably
bad for him.
Not even probably. Killian was sure it was bad for him.
That it was going to hurt him even more to keep digging
through them, keep looking for bits and pieces and
burning them into himself over and over.
But god, he was terrified he would forget. That the
images, that the memories would fade and he'd still be
just as broken but...Wouldn't have the faintest idea why.
That he might just accept that this is how he had always
That wasn't going to happen. He wasn't going to let it
happen. But it didn't make it hurt less. Didn't make it
the voice of the most important person of the world --
his twin, his other half... The person he loves and hates
"Yes?" He sits up, looking at her with a
simpering smile on his face. "What do you need?"
Her eyes meet his and he feels himself just melting away
into her, thoughts and feelings disappearing, replaced
only by whatever command she was giving to him -- which
he would follow without hesitation, without question,
"I need you to take care of a little something for
me today... I have a meeting that I simply could not
schedule for after dark..." She trails her elegantly
manicured fingers down the side of his face. "I'll
need you to play my part."
There's a faint twinge of pain somewhere deep, deep down
but it doesn't come anywhere near close enough to the
surface for Killian to consciously acknowledge it.
"Of course, just tell me what I need to say..."
rose up in the pit of his stomach. Damn it. Damn it, damn
it. It's like he can still feel her words inside of him.
Like her commands are still there lodged deep in some
hidden part of his psyche...
It wasn't the pain that was the worst of it, though. It
was the feeling of uselessness. It was the lack of
purpose -- every waking moment of his life used to be
making sure Keeva had what she needed, what she wanted.
That she was safe. That she was happy. That she was
making the moves forward she wanted. That he was playing
the parts she wanted him to. And now...he had only that
desperate need for revenge.
He could hear movement and voices and laughter outside
and found that he wanted desperately to reach out to the
other hunters. Mostly, he wanted to be useful to them.
Mostly, he wanted something to do.
"Fuck." Another deep sigh fell from Killian's
lips as he closed his eyes, covering his face with his
hand. This was just pathetic...
Eventually he could smell food, the dinner that had been
made and decided (prompted by the rumble in his belly
reminding him that he food was kind of necessary for
survival) that he'd wander downstairs and make an attempt.
A Response to an
walks into his bedroom after washing his hands off,
tearing off the hoodie and throwing it onto the floor
before sinking down onto the edge of his bed.
God damn it. He hadn't...he hadn't meant to do that. It
wasn't supposed to go that far -- he had just meant to
hit Keeva's ghoul once, just to get it out of his system
but... The instant he'd seen him, the instant he'd seen
that face. He'd just lost it.
He's grateful, at least, none of the kids were around.
Had she meant for that reaction? Had he only done what
she wanted him to do? Again? Like always?
The idea that he had makes him sick. It makes him want to
crawl out of his skin. Then again, he always wants to
crawl out of his skin. It's just about one of the only
feelings he really... feels anymore.
That's not good. It's nothing but pain and bubbling rage
inside of him anymore and he doesn't like that. He doesn't
want to be like that. There's a part of him that really
What does he want? Other than revenge, that is...He has
to want something else.
To stop hurting.
To feel useful. To be useful...
But deeper than that he just wants to feel like a person
again. To be more than someone's toy. To find something
that fills the hole where his twin used to be. He does
miss that all-consuming feeling of love that he'd had for
her. And the hate is a poor substitute. It only makes
that emptiness more palpable.
Covering his face with his hands, he breathes out a long
breath, trying to get the tears to stop. He gives in to
the one thought running through his head, that remaining
urge to dedicate his existence to someone else again.
Just for now. Just until he can find a self to be again.
It's not a good way of dealing with it, he knows that but...
It's the only thing he can think to do.