The Wretched and Divine {Black Veil Brides}

11 - Abeyance

    Anger.  White hot liquid fury cascaded through my veins, blinding me with rage that all but took over ever emotion I had before my best friend’s brain matter was splattered by a bullet.  I wanted to rip, to kill, to shred ever last sense of being for the man who had done it.  I had long forgotten about anything other than the gore that now littered the ground, the blood slick surfaces now drowning in retribution.  I rushed to the edge of the platform where the stairs began, raising a fist into the air as I searched for allies in the flurry of movement.  My heart was crushed by the amount of death but wrath was too high within me to care at the moment.  Bodies littered the expanse, both guards and peasants alike.  Their blood commingled, the same ruby liquid gathering at each of the corpses and flowing into the streets as though Hell had surfaced and the world was crying tears of bodily fluids.  The stench of sickly sweet entrails also perfumed the expanse, the scent of rust and shit sending a horrible feeling into my gut.  If I hadn’t been so blinded by rage, I would have vomited.

    However, I could only look out over the faces of torment as they were and could not quell the chaos; the world needed to change, that much was certain and I would not end this without the change. 

    I knew now without a doubt that all this shit the had built up around us, all the religious ties and holy sects were a farce.  It was all a bunch of bullshit to keep us in line, to give us hope for something better when we died.  All of it, every single shred was a fucking lie and I would not let it be any longer.

    “That god does not exist, I cannot deny,” I whispered to myself, eyes stinging from the stench around me, “That my whole being cries out for a god, I cannot forget.”

    As my epiphany began to settle in my core, I felt a hand touch my arm and my head quickly whipped around to see if it was friend or foe.  I was more prepared for foe, not expecting the tear stained face of the red haired woman I had dreamed about during my captivity.  Her pale face was dotted with bits of red, her hands covered with the ruby liquid though it was now drying to a crusty crimson.  Her wide hazel eyes stared through me and I could nearly feel her heart pounding in her chest.  Lips were parted as though she wished to say something but when something pushed on her from behind, she started and turned about to face the giant black beast she brought into battle with her.  Her arms went around his muzzle and I seemed to be forgotten for an instant.

    The moment was long enough for me to shrug her off, to turn back to the destruction before me.  She was not within my reach, not now.  This woman was not a part of my destiny for mine was a path filled with blood and terror, steeped in revenge.  I wouldn’t let her be a part of that even though I half believed she was already soaked in all of it.  Her stained hands were a reminder that none of us were whole any longer, especially her.  That was the second person she had seen brained within a year, the first being her brother on the day we met.

    And she still held the same fervent passion in her eyes as that day.

    “What are we going to do?”

    Her voice slightly drew me back into reality, but it was only a brief inclination that I could come back from over the edge.  I chuckled darkly, recalling that she still prayed to the god of F.E.A.R. without question; she was weak and I couldn’t let her weaken me.

    “We’re going to finish this.”

    She touched my arm again and I was sucked back to her for the entire time our souls mingled.  It was like she protected me from myself in the instants where our flesh touched, and I could not remove my arm from her grasp.  I wanted the magnetism, the incessant need of her was only slightly stanched by my want for revenge, for blood and glory.  What the hell was she?

    “We’ll finish it together then.”  Her eyes were a pool of innocent rage, of hope and belief that we were doing good.  I didn’t care if it was right or not, I wanted to end F.E.A.R. with all I had and I would do it any way I could.  She was not that sort of person, not the type to stray into darkness as I had.  In a way, she was my opposite: the glowing angel and the vengeful demon.  It was poetic and yet true to some extent.  Her copper locks flowed over her shoulders and framed her face even though much of it was disheveled; pale face still beautiful despite the fact that there were spots of red on her cheeks and chin.  Even the names we had chosen for ourselves depicted our polar characters: Light the bringer of hope and Sixx the destructor.

    I could never taint this creature with my filth.

    “No, Light,” I murmured, unable to help myself as I tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear and cupped her face, “Not together.”

    Her eyes went wide and she gripped to me even tighter.

    “I’m not leaving you,” she snarled, eyes full of promise.  My heart was briefly warmed by the idea of her caring for me, but it was quickly stamped out by the blackness that was swiftly taking over my soul.  I would not bring her with me as I sank to the lowest depths of sin.

    “No, you’re not,” I replied, fingers releasing her grasp on me, “I’m leaving you.”

    I walked off into the crowd of death, taking in the evil as it rose around me and fighting my way through to the other side.  I would take this city and perhaps if I fell to evil in the process, Light could take over and lead them all to sanctuary.  I had to sink my hands into the filth though to bring the good back.  Everything was falling apart and perhaps I had to finish that in order for it to come to glory again.  Decapitated heads lay around me with opened mouths and horrified expressions while guts and severed limbs littered the cobblestones.  Men and women alike lay dead in the streets, but the cries of battle were not over; people were still fighting.

    A battle cry went up, fierce and masculine off in the distance.  I glanced up and smiled as I saw someone I knew in the distance.

    Cracken had brought the army at last.