The Beast Inside

Scars

((Hey, sorry this is so short. ))

About two hours passed, Jack was fast asleep while Mark sat holding him, lost in his own bloody thoughts. The images his mind kept shooting at him ranged from the kills he'd already made, to ones a part of him wanted to make.

He wanted to do it again, he wanted to kill again.

The small Irish man makes a small groaning noise, snapping the red haired man from his gory thoughts. Mark looks down at the sleeping man as he snuggled against his chest, the man's small pale hand clutched Mark's shirt tightly as his chest rose and fall. Mark couldn't help himself from smiling.

His eyes travel over the man's sleeping face, he looked... cute. The way his mouth hung open slightly and his dyed green hair fell lazily over his pale face. He looked peaceful.

Mark's eyes travel downward slighlty, where the Irish man's shirt rode up his side ever so slighlty, exposing his pale side. The red haired man's brown eyes narrow slighlty as a noticable bit of skin, paler than the rest, nearly white, is visible. In almost a line down his side. The red haired man reaches down, gently stroking what he now recognized as a scar.

The Irish man moves slighlty but continues to sleep fairly peacfully, eyes twitching slighlty indicating he had begun dreaming. Mark hesitates, and examines the scar, noticing it looped back further across his back.

He remembered the story Robin had told him. About how Jack still had some of the scars from when he was first turned. Accidently turned. Jack was forced into this life, he probably never wanted it, but now he had to live as one of these beasts.

Before he knew what he was doing, Mark's hand gently begins moving his shirt upwards, slowly exposing more scars. His brown eyes widen as more and more scars are seen, some big, some small.

Jack sits up quickly, pulling his t-shirt down quickly covering the man ugly marks that covered his skin. Mark opens his mouth to speak but Jack shakes his head, standing up in a hurried manner and holding the hem of his shirt tightly, head down and blue eyes avoiding contact.

"Sean, I didn't-"

"Don't..."

The Irish man interupts simply, his lip quivering gently though he tried to hide it. Mark begins to stand but stops as Jack turns and walks to the door.

"I've gotta go..."

He murmurs under his breath before walking quickly out of the door, closing it behind him and leaving Mark in silence once more.

His brown eyes watch the door, a part of him wishing Jack would return, but he didn't. Mark finally stands, subconciously beginning to pace the room, his fists clenching and realaxing at his sides.

Great you even managed to drive Sean away...

His mind growls at him.

"Shut up..."

Mark mutters to himself, shoving a hand roughly through the mess of red on top of his head. His thouhts don't quiet though, instead they continue to scream at him.

All you do is hurt people.

"Shut... Up..."

He snarls again, his fists clenching tighlty so his nails dug into his palms painfully. His mind continues to throw out insults, insecurities, until finally Mark snarls, and his fist collides with the nearest wall, the wood of the cabin making a small splintering sound but holding strong.

He growls and storms out of the cabin, pushing past a few of the pack, most of them ignoring him as he makes his way through the dense forest, unsure of where he was going, though his body moved on auto pilot. As though a part of him knew where to head.

Soon enough he finds himself on the edge of a small hiking trail. Each side covered with thick tree's. It was obvious not many people walked down this path.

However Mark's brown eyes jolt over as two people walk past him, a male and female, talking and laughing amongst themselves, simply enjoying the fairly nice weather.

Mark's brown eyes watch each movement they make and a sound pounds in his ears. Their heartbeats, each one of their pulses calm and slow. His body moves on instinct as he winds through the trees, following the sound of their footsteps, following the sound of their pounding hearts.

He feels his teeth sharpen in his mouth, the fangs pressing against the inside of his lips. His lips subconciously curve into a smile, exposing those fangs that glinted in the sunlight, as his instincts tell him everything he needs to do.

Hunt... Kill...