“Doomed”—Bring Me the Horizon
There are skeletons in every closet. In some, they're stacked ceiling-high. In this world, you're either predator or prey, and it's all predetermined. As predetermined as retardation or cancer. Those of us ingrained with the will to live, to survive, to thrive, and to kill if we must, we see the world for what it is. We understand the wicked within us all. We harness it.
The wicked side of me will always be the most powerful, and I think that's where I differ from most other alphas. I don't have a stopping point. I have no moral compass. I am not guided by unseen bullshit. I am the God of my own world, waiting for the outer world to crumble around me so I may laugh upon its ruins.
What if I told you we live, we die, and then nothing else? What if I told you I saw it coming long ago in a dream? I saw myself morphing, evolving into a beast, feeding off the fire and brimstone… the end of days… the forgotten souls. With each step, the earth shook in devastating fashion. I breathed fire onto the huddled remaining few. I watched their skin peel from their bones. And in the destruction, I became full.
Now, I find myself in this peculiar position, this position of fucking weakness, and one I have never found myself in before—wanting another human being for more than just blood or a fuck. As of late, my mind wanders to Miranda so often, and though I could fuck her to within an inch of her life, that's not what drives me insane. It's the desire to be near her, to love her, to make her mine. I knew it from the moment I saw her name… and the moment I read her words. She was meant to be with me, and I with her.
I thought about that phone call the whole dinner. The deep male voice over the line. The red in her face as she spoke to him. I tried my best to hold in my anger, to act normal, but it's fucking boiling inside me.
My hands grip the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turn ghost white. Silence fills the car as it has since we left the restaurant, and if it continues, I just might run this fucking car into oncoming traffic.
"So who was that on the phone?" I ask—I blurt it, really.
"When?"
When? Bitch, don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. "At dinner."
"Oh, a friend…" Her eyes narrow, the light from street lamps flicking over her pale skin as we barrel down the highway. "I guess maybe an acquaintance. I don't know." She glances out of the window. "He's a really big fan of yours."
My mind starts to sketch out what he might look like, what their connection is, what he could give her that I can't. "Oh yeah? Big fan, you say? I'll have to sign a book for him," I say, fighting back the urge to find out more about this friend.
"That would be really nice of you." She glances at me and smiles.
"I've always held the belief that men and women can't really be friends. One party always wants to fuck the other," I say, glancing at her with an eyebrow raised and a coy smile. "But who the hell am I to say? I don't have any friends."
"Well"—she crosses her arms—"I disagree. Not everything's about fucking, you know?"
I laugh, finding her naivety amusing. "Oh, dear, don't you know? The world revolves around money and fucking."
She glares at me, arms still crossed. "For certain people…" A smirk dances over her red lips. "I'm sure it does."
"I suppose love is in the mix somehow." I look at her out of the corner of my eye. "Tell me, Miranda, have you ever been in love?"
She laughs, shaking her head, her hair falling softly over her shoulders as my fingers beg to get tangled in it. "Love is a crock of shit.”
A sudden burst of laughter erupts from my mouth. I slap the steering wheel hard a few times. "I feel I may have underestimated you. Here I was thinking you were the glass-half-full type."
"Yeah, well, I can assure you I'm not."
"I do believe in love. As black as my little heart may be, I do believe in this world, there is someone for every asshole." I pull the car off the county round and onto the long, pitch-black driveway leading to my cabin. "It's just a matter of stumbling into them. And not ever letting them slip away."
"Well, if that's the case, I've yet to stumble across my asshole, I guess." She shakes her head.
I loop the car around the front of the cabin and park just to the side of it. Opening my door, I nearly trip over myself trying to get over to Miranda's side fast enough to open the door for her. She's got it halfway open by the time I get to the passenger’s side, but I hold it for her regardless. She'll like that.
She looks up at me. "Oh, thanks…"
She steps out and slips past me. I trail her to the front door, my eyes tracing the curve of her ass, lost in the thought of what kind of underwear she's wearing. And the thought of them balled up and stuffed into her mouth.
No. I don't want to hurt her. How could I? I love her.
I unlock the front door and open it, letting her go in first before I follow. The cabin is completely still and dark. Perfect.
She flips the switch on the wall, and the front room lights up. Her eyes drift from my face, down my body. She wants me, and she's making it evident. I smile until her gaze stops on my legs, her eyes widening and her brow scrunching.
"Edwin…" she says softly.
I look down to the exact place her gaze has landed. Blood. In spots near my knee.
"Is that…" Her eyes narrow. "Is that…” Her perfect little brows pinch together, shooting a jolt of want through me. “Is that blood?"
I laugh, shaking my head and drawing my focus back to her. "How funny is that? Cut myself the other day chopping wood." I hold up my thumb and flash an inch-long gash down the side. It's a few days healed, and it was from an ax all right, but I wasn't chopping wood. "It busted back open earlier today. Must not have noticed." I shrug and flash her a toothy smile. "Though I guess you didn't notice either, did you?"
Stepping back, she shakes her head. "No, I didn't." A smile flinches over her lips, followed by a short, uncertain laugh. "Well, good night." She turns on her heel and heads toward the hallway.
"Good night, Miranda," I call as she disappears into the darkness.
She doesn't see it, but I'm smiling. I'm smiling because there's a yearning inside me, alive and feeding off of her, growing in intensity with each passing day. I want her. I need her. And with every drop of willpower I can muster, I fight the urge to follow her into her room, take what I've wanted all this time, and give her what she wants in return. I know she yearns for me too. How could she not? It's only a matter of time before I make her mine.
It’s only a matter of time before we kill as one.