[ These, at least, are the easier ones- the calm, if you could call it that, before the storm. It's less of a need to catch himself, and more of a need to push past the compulsion in his blood, one that fills him with as much hatred as it does fill his thoughts unabashedly. ]
...He took an interest in me. [ He recalls the calm smile on his face, the cold brush of his fingers, and the sensation of dread that has crawled through his veins like a parasite. He can still taste iron on his tongue, not his own. ] I had always been intimately connected to the dead, apparently, and that was fascinating enough. They always like what's fascinating.
[ A few more drops of blood fall to the dark brown of the table, but he ignores it. ]
...He started visiting me after that. I don't remember much of those dreams, only that he was always trying to make himself seem warm. Welcoming. It is hard to escape one who you cannot hide from even in your sleep.
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...He took an interest in me. [ He recalls the calm smile on his face, the cold brush of his fingers, and the sensation of dread that has crawled through his veins like a parasite. He can still taste iron on his tongue, not his own. ] I had always been intimately connected to the dead, apparently, and that was fascinating enough. They always like what's fascinating.
[ A few more drops of blood fall to the dark brown of the table, but he ignores it. ]
...He started visiting me after that. I don't remember much of those dreams, only that he was always trying to make himself seem warm. Welcoming. It is hard to escape one who you cannot hide from even in your sleep.