Opening of the Santa Marta Hunter Chronicle...

His 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 ran.

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.

Killian 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

Killian 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 been.

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 any better...


"Killian, darling..."

It's the voice of the most important person of the world -- his twin, his other half... The person he loves and hates most.

"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, without fail.

"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..."

Nausea 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 Accidental Murder

Killian 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 just wants...

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.