Massacre.

I am hypnotized by the black tendrils that seem to sprout from the ground around me. They swirl and grow, appearing almost cloud-like, but when I feel one glide over my skin it feels solid. I turn my hand palm up in front of me, watching as more tendrils seem to manifest from it. There's black mist that accompanies their presence, almost like snakes coming out from dry ice. My body begins to ache, something inside of me pushing and pulling. Breathing becomes difficult.

“Massacre, calm down,” I hear Reaper say from in front of me.

I narrow my eyes at him, his face concerned and attention focused on the tendrils that have wrapped around half his body. I watch as they slowly wrap around his stomach and continue to make make their way up.

I want to laugh and cry at his words because this whole situation has warped my emotions.
I’m upset because of my loneliness, angry that he’s put me at a distance, happy that I actually have an advantage, but afraid because I’ve never been cable of this ability.

“No,” my voice speaks, it cracks and is a mix of my feelings. I can feel a tear begin to make its way down my face but I quickly wipe it away with my free hand.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” he warns.

“Too fucking late” I hiss and launch myself at him.

We tumble into his office, my black tendrils hold him down while I try to get my hands on his face but Reaper’s hands are on my forearms, trying to keep me away. I’m making noises similar to a rabbie-infected animal while Reaper keeps telling me stop what I’m doing but I'm not having it.

I don’t realize that he’s manifested his own swarm of black tendrils until he rolls the both of us over and I am restrained by them. I yell as he tries to pin my hands over my head. I can feel heat forming in both of my palms, so I place them over the back of his since his fingers encircled my wrists. Reaper yelps and loosens his grip for a moment, giving me enough time to push him down again.

The heat from my hands doesn’t cease, allowing me the privilege of leaving burns on any part of Reaper’s body that I manage to touch. For a moment I see fear in his eyes when they meet mine but the next thing I know, cold, metal hands are all over my body.

I scream and throw a fit, trying to fight against the giant skeleton puppets that Reaper has summoned, but I’m weak compared to them. I give up and crumble, their hold on my loosening, leaving me to fall to the floor.

I start to sob, my black tendrils disappearing while my tattoo throbs in pain. I curl into a ball.

“W-why?” Through blurry eyes I watch Reaper as he stands over me. His eyes are cold.

I want to elaborate on my question but he speaks before I get the chance. His voice his filled with authority and I am left to submit.

“Massacre?”

“Yes, Reaper?”

“I don’t love you, and I never did.”

And then I loose it again.