Virtuoso

Inanimate doom. Inevitable with no hope of a last tender breath.

In obscurity, and even more likely excruciatingly obscene agony I will die today.

You'd think I'd be a little more emotional about that, but this wasn't the first time I had surprised myself. Guess that's what happens when you speculate death as often I do. Though being part vampire and all doesn't make it all that irrational. My mere existence is impossible and if I am to consider all of my incidences and sin. For my soul, if I even have one, damnation is all to real prospect.

My life was supposed to be intertwined with eternity. Always existing and never ending through blood, tears and it all. I'd never realized how truly blessed I had been to have my family by my side. Ha, must be hereditary. I can remember the visions of Dad's life before my mother and I.

The curse of eternal thrust. To live forever at the loveliest age. Being envied and sought after by the naive thoughts of humans. In the back of his mind he could never escape the aching fire in his throat; knowing it might just be them. The kindhearted lady who sold daffodils on the street corner. The World Civilization teacher that gets way to close who couldn't wait to get home to his expecting wife. The shaggy haired boy with the punk rock shirts and a snake bite smile accidentally bumps his shoulder in the hall.

No matter how perfect or blemish free your complexion innocent lives must pay due of all men's virtue. Always wasn't a small thing. When you have something the fates strain your desires greed to its limit.

They make you curious.

The very second I stepped into that studio every single nerve, synapse and cell in my body screamed. My muscles went ridged begging to turn around and run.

I kept my muscles hard and unrelenting refusing to move even a single inch. To think not so many years ago in the next room her life would've been snuffed out before it even began.

I could feel the contents of my hour glass as they transfigured from the firmest titanium to grounded sand stone.

She would kill him if I didn't do this, and I couldn't live to see that. To exist through it, through a world without him, would be sickened, pointless, and unbearable.

So, it was my turn to be his Knight in shining armor, and I was really saving no one but him. To keep him away from all the hurt and desolation of my- demise was worth it; even if it meant wronging everyone else. I closed my eyes and cleared my mind of every unnecessary thought. One by one I mentally clipped away my emotional ties, because once I stepped into that room there was no turning back. If I went into that room with any knowledge of what the aftermath could do to my family I would fight; and they all would die.

Memory by Memory, Dream by dream. All the laughs, the joy, the fights, the hate, the tears (on my part of course), and the love. Slowly I kicked the legs out from underneath every single person I ever cared for .

And if I where to take in the sheer fact of all that.

I was already dead.

The cringe that trembled the very core of my lithe figure felt so very unnatural as I slid through the single glass door.

I took an unnecessary breath and I let it feel my lungs then blew it out softly. The flash of his gentle face lingered in my mind.

If I did this he'd never know, but if he did it would kill him. I'm forcing light into this bleak day. I placed a gentle hand against the gold locket that hung closest to my neck.

Plus que ma propre vie.

More than my own life.

The last tear fell from my honey, gilded eyes.

The last variable of my equation finally fell into place. I saw her shimmering in the pale moonlight from the glass ceiling. The answer still undefined, our ubiquitous reflections echoed surreal, and undisturbed in the silver glass that encircled the studio. Her lips twitched until they had stretched into a ghost of a smile and a dangerous fire ignited in her scarlet eyes; to match her upcoming gruesome performance.

The short film of my life flashed in my mind. Reliving each and every memory flashing in distinct color, sound, and detail.

Mom's early fairy tales in the cottage evolving into classic novels and epics. The cool keys of dad's piano beneath my petite ivory fingers; intricate melodies, harmonies, and chords echoing through out my grandparents house. My bleach, white knuckles clenching the wheel of Grandpa Swan's cruiser. Pepsi tainted lips caressing my own. The smell of the crisp, salty sea air as picked me up into the air and we both laughed as he twirled me around with the tide nipping his feet; pure smiles of elation on our faces.

With only one stealthy footfall from the opposite of the room where my existence would have been snuffed out before it even began; the equation was finally uncovered.

The consequences of my vanity finally laid out before my eyes.

The devil doesn't give second chances and dead cats lie silent.