I am nothing like you.

She tells him, rebuffing his words.

She is not a monster. She doesn't enjoy the horrors that he does. She does not like the taste of blood. She does not like to hear people scream as she tortures them.

She does not like any of it at all.

But he does.

He loves the taste of blood. He loves to feel it on his hands, covering his beautiful face in smears, his eyes bright with joy. He loves to torture people as they scream and scream. So loud it rings in her ears and she shouts for it to stop.

He doesn't and he laughs as the screams continue and she pleads for it to end.

He forces her to look at him and tilts her chin up as he makes her drink blood from a glass.

It's bittersweet like wine.

Her eyes widen and he smiles like a madman as he holds her to him smearing her with the blood on his hands.

All mine.

She isn't his. She wasn't anybody's. She wasn't anything like him.

A little girl cries from a corner of the room with bodies strewn about. Blonde hair, blue eyes, sweet face.

Kill her. Kill her.

He whispers in her ear.

I won't.

She shakes her head in refusal.

You will.

She stares apathetically at the little girl's still form, torn apart and the blood coating her hands.

She stares up at the monster standing in front of her who laughs and laughs in delight.

I am just like you.

He only laughs more.

The corruption of innocence is a beautiful thing.

Yeah I'm back, I guess. Missed me?