For Love of Evil - [Roman Godfrey/Hemlock Grove]

-2-

*
She sits in the middle of a hand drawn six pointed star, naked. Her long black hair covers her right nipple, her left breast exposed.

She smiles seductively, her top teeth biting down on her plump bottom lip. Her head rolls back, exposing her bluish green jugular. When her head comes back to view, dark blood is trailing from her lip, down to her chin.

Her raven hair covers the vein again, her breasts bare as she begins to crawl out of the circle toward him.

Roman steps back, but is unable to will the power to take his eyes off the beautifully nude young woman creeping toward him on her hands and knees.

Blood drips from her chin, her breasts bouncing with each movement she makes as her hair sways with her body. Her eyes are blue, almost transparent like the sea.

She rises to her knees, wiping the blood away from her chin that was now dripping onto her bare chest. She licks the blood on her hand, gazing up at Roman with lustful eyes as she grabs his hips, pulling them to her mouth.

Her tongue trails across his lower abdomen, leaving red smears along his pale, porcelain skin. Roman grabs the girl by her hair, lifting her to her feet as he devours her mouth, tasting the metallic of her wounded lips.

Roman lies between the young woman's legs, feeling himself graze against her smooth inner thigh. Her hands trail through his dirty blonde hair, grabbing fistfuls, pulling his head down to hers as she breathes heavily into his open mouth, tasting him.

Roman bites, nips and licks as he leaves small tears on her beautiful skin. He hears the crunch of her flesh breaking apart under his teeth, the sound and feel nearly sending him over the edge as he does it.

Roman pulls back, staring down at the beautiful young woman he tries to stop hurting.

He's surprised to see her gazing back into his eyes with a wanting smile, tracking her hands down his bare chest.

Roman moves his hands to her breasts, massaging the soft meat beneath her areoles, doing anything to cease the voices that were telling him to do something other than fuck her.

Roman tries convincing himself that fucking this girl was all he wanted, but the look in her eyes said she wanted him to give into his thoughts; she wanted him to do what he was desperately trying not to.

With teeth exposed, Roman bites down into her throat, pulling back with the side of her neck in his jaws. He spits out her larynx, blood pouring out of his mouth as he ducks down and begins sucking the open gash on her throat. She moans beneath him, trailing her blood covered hand through his hair as she lets him eat her alive.

Roman pulls back, examining her blood covered face. The only thing he could make of her expression through her blood soaked face was her icy eyes and dark brows. She smiled wide, her teeth stark white against the contrast of red spread across her face.

"Go to sleep... go to sleep!" Roman commands, only to see the girl continuing to smile up at him, her hands still dancing in his hair.

She laughs, as if mocking his inability to control her. Blood begins to ooze from Roman's nose - his power useless. She pulls his head down, kissing his full lips with a passion he never knew existed, sliding her tongue across his plump lip, tasting her own blood on his face.

"Wake up." She says against his mouth.
*

Roman's eyes shoot open. It was a dream; it was only a dream. He stood from the bed, pacing the floor as he recalled the young woman he had just murdered.

Why hadn't she died?

Why hadn't she fallen asleep as he commanded, to rid herself of the horror of bleeding to death?

How had she been able to control him. (Roman Godfrey, the young man who could control just about anyone.)

He trailed to the bathroom, still tasting her blood in his mouth. He stared down at the mirror on the sink, with four lines already cut into neat rows.

For good measure, Roman took the razor blade setting by the bar of soap and began cutting the lines more uniformed. He took the rolled up bill next to the mirror and snorted the coke until one row was gone. The inside of his nose stung with familiarity, then just as quickly, became numb as he sniffed back the drug of his choice.

Roman stared back at himself through the vanity mirror, sleeking his hair back. He braced his palms on the edge of the sink, staring back at himself.

Dark rings resided under his large lightly colored eyes, revealing his worry and lack of sleep. For once, he feared something more than himself, he feared whomever/whatever that thing in his dream was. He feared he may dream of it again.

This wasn't typical of Roman; he dreamed many things - things that didn't makes sense - but this was different. There was no subliminal message to his dream, it had been straightforward.

A young woman had seduced him and brought out his inner demon; the one that had begun to have a voice of its own. Not only that, she had welcomed it, like she had wanted it to happen. And worst of all, he couldn't control what she was doing; what she had done, or had encouraged him to do.

Roman's eyes moved past his own reflection to see his mother leaning against the door frame with folded arms. Her eyes narrowed as her brows raised, waiting for Roman to acknowledge her presence.

"What?" Roman said, moving away from the sink, never once making eye contact.

Olivia sighed, pushing herself away from the panel, keeping her arms crossed. "There was a murder last night... Anita Parker, did you know her?" Olivia held out her hand, examining her nails as if she were overdue for a manicure.

Roman froze as he stood in the middle of his large, walk-in closet. His jaw clenched as he tried to rid the memory of last night - the memory of his blood smeared on Anita's face as he demanded she walk home... alone.

He had tried to save her from himself; he had tried to do the right thing.

"No." Roman lied, pulling a blazer off the rack. He slid his arm into the sleeve, draping it over his back before placing his other arm inside. He adjusted the fit, straightening the hem of the black blazer, never once glancing in his mother's direction.

"Hm. It's a pity, really. Are you sure you didn't know her?" Olivia asked, pushing her son to be honest. Roman dared not to look into her eyes.

"We had a few classes together, that's all." Roman lied again, buttoning the bottom four buttons of the blazer.

"She was quite pretty. Seemed like your type, is all." Olivia pried.

"What happened to her?" Roman asked coolly, as if last night had never happened.

"Mauled to death by some beast, completely disemboweled. The media seems to believe some wild animal did it." Olivia shrugged as if this type of thing happened everyday.

Olivia trailed her hand through Roman's hair, sweeping the length behind his ear lovingly before stroking his face. "I gotta go." Roman said, walking out of the closet, grabbing his pack of cigarettes on the night stand before fleeing the room.

He regretted making Anita walk home last night. He questioned if her fate would've been less painful in his hands had he only had the willpower to keep the voices in his head at bay.

Roman had sent Anita home into the woods alone, on the night of a full moon. He had listened to the rumors at school, but brushed them off as teenage stupidity. Peter. Peter Rumancek. The town pariah - the "werewolf."

"Shelley! C'mon, let's go!" Roman called at the front door, looking to the stairwell.

He watched as his sister trailed down the stairs, shoulders slumped, dark hair covering her face. Roman smiled; Shelley was the only thing in the world that made him feel... human, compassion.

He loved her more than anything else. His duty was to protect her until he could no longer do so, but there was one person he couldn't seem to protect her from, their mother, Olivia. Roman's smile faded at the thought; he couldn't seem to even protect himself from their mother.