Neon Lights

☆LAILA MOON GA ☆

My arms are on fire, I've learned to ignore them, I focus on the city below me twinkling lights, alive, unaware. A migraine creeps into my skull and I focus on it, the only pain I can still feel, completely numb. Wine against my lips,  sleeveless dress hanging off my body. There's no comfort here, foreign land with foreign food with foreign people, only one thing is steady- the Moon Ga nature.

He's in the other room, Woo MoonGa, his the only sounds I can hear. He's old now, good for her, whoever she is, it won't last long, but I've been her for long enough to know it doesn't matter how long it lasts, she's scarred for life and I've seen too many to care. I'm a dead soul, that's the price of being a Moon Ga,  you sell your soul for it, years later I'm nothing but flesh and bone with echoes in it. I wonder how he picked her? At the bar? No. No that wasn't his style. By the street was more probable. He probably watched it, watched them toss her into the trunk, probably drunk off the bruises on her wrists. He's sick, I have proof of it over my skin, and she's dead.

Here's what different about her- she does not fight back. Normally, there's screams, cries, begs- he lives for them- but there's none. Is she passed out? Is , no she wouldn't be. He's the type to need them to watch, to break them mentally, to get into their heads and disband everything holding them together. He'd want her to watch,  to acknowledge him, his torture. To beg for her life.

She does not. I wonder of she's dead, if he's unlocked a new form of sickness. I want to see her, before she's tossed back to the streets she was plucked from, I want to look in her eyes and feel a little less lonely, to know I'm not alone in this- fucked up as it is. One who feels it, it might be sick to say- but then I am a Moon Ga after all, aren't we all sick?

Maybe not all. Alexander. My Alexander.  My heart would hurt for him, if I still had one, but I don't. He does, my boy, I want so badly to save him from this. To save him from the others. Sometimes, when I still have notions of motherhood,  I kill him in my dreams as a form of salvation. Some things are worse than death, being him in the Moon Ga household is one of those- but there's no mother in me so I do to him what my mother did to me- I leave him to the world. He will learn, soon. This much I'm sure of, I did. I learned. They're almost home, the location pin on his phone says he's in the building, which means they are.

I've knocked back the second full glass of wine when I hear that sound- breaking glass. It doesn't stop me in my tracks, not that, Woo likes his sharp objects and skin, it's that the sound he makes isn't one of a sadist gaining pleasure, it's of pain.

What.

I swipe my keycard,  unsure of what I'll find, of what I'll do with what I find. He makes me watch , sometimes,  the door is often unlocked and this isn't the first time.

Woo Moon Ga lies on the floor, blood splattered across the white sheets of his room. It's, everywhere, I've seen enough blood being a Moon Ga that it barely shocks me, this one does.

She's a little thing, not older than eighteen- exactly his type, fully naked and on his chest. He's on the floor, naked.

Broken glass between fingers, she's slicing him open.

And I don't mean in hysteria,  no , it's not rushed, it's not fight or flight, there's no adrenaline to it. She does it like it's art, with no rush to it, carefully. He's screaming, Woo, I watch, frozen, as she picks a shard from the floor and lodges it, forcefully, into his cheek. It's, one sided, the way she does it, carefully, focused on one side of his body, I watch as pieces of glass are so carefully placed into his body, I do nothing. He look at me for help and I do nothing, watch her place pieces of sharp objects into him like pieces of a puzzle- over his hip. Slash across his abdomen. Across his chest. Into his side, but with measured precision, like she needs to know how deep it'll go into him.