I'm Just the Worst Type of Guy to Argue With.

GAW glared at me from behind the corpse in the chair that was my dead father. His skin was melting and dripping off into a puddle on the floor, mixed with blood that was everywhere. I looked up and saw the skin on his face was pulling down, revealing the skull and bone behind it, his brain already melted. I almost choked in disgust at the sizzling sound the glue in his bones were making as it melted my father away into nothing. The weird part, I didn't seem to care. I looked down to the ground, at all the flesh that was piled up on the floor, surrounded by the deep, crimson color that was blood. It was one big puddle on the floor. One big fleshy puddle.

Looking back up at the vampire, an evil smirk slowly spread across his face. He brought his foot up and kicked my father's spine, since his back had pretty much melted off, and he fell to the floor. His skull hit the pile of flesh and steam wafted up from the acid that was still burning away at my father's corpse. And let's not forget the sizzling sound of the burning.

"Did you enjoy the show?" He smiled and sauntered over to me. I just sat there with a blank expression, looking over the Gothic Man in front of me. "Aw, come on now, you had to have liked seeing your father's demise, after all he said to you. After all he said about you." GAW continued, "But then again you do look like an emo faggot." He chuckled.

My mind was far from that. My mind was settled on one thing, and I wasn't going to quit pondering about it until I figured out the puzzle. The killer said he loved me. I wanted to know in what way. . . . I wasn't thinking about how he killed my mother, or my father, or my best friend. I wasn't thinking about how I completely loathed him, or how I should loathe him. . . I just wanted to know about why he loved me.

The man or monster looked over at me, with a puzzled expression. I merely said, "I'm not an emo faggot."

He sat down, beside of me, on the mattress that I was resting and looked at me. He ran a hand through my hair and I felt his jagged nails scratching my head slightly, but not to bad. His hand made me shiver, and I felt the still wet blood on his hand rub off on my hair.

"I know you're not," He whispered and peered into my eyes. He rested his hand on the back of my head and I felt his other sneak around my waist. His hazel eyes were beautiful and mesmerizing and I felt myself melt, much like my father on the floor. "Shh." He leaned forward and I felt his lips, his soft, blood dowsed lips, on mine and I shut my eyes. I felt a lot of emotion in this kiss, like GAW was pouring everything he had into this one moment.

I gasped, feeling a rush of sparks through my body as he moved his hands up and down my sides and pushed me down onto the bed. He crawled on top of me, our lips still connected. His trailed away and down my jaw line, and then to my neck. My eyes widened, but he pulled back.

"Aw, sugar, you taste so good." He smirked, I remembered him saying that before. . . . I tasted him still on my lips and smiled, vaguely.

GAW, on the other hand, looked really confused. His eyes darted around the room and they finally rested on one thing. A syringe, lying on the floor, with something dripping off the needle. He got up and walked over to it, picking it up, carefully.

"No wonder," He said, pointing it at me, "Nymph blood."