Massacre.

Anger, fear, and hunger fill my being in the darkness of sleep. My mind wanders, a muddy picture from memory or imagination plays before me. I see people, their mouths open, screaming and running. They're running away from me and from something. I see their faces and and feel my chaotic emotions. An intense need for power and hunger for revenge fuels the hatred I look at them with.

Then it all stops.

My eyes open and familiar glow-in-the-dark stickers are strewn across the ceiling.

My insides quiver, and my fingers tremble. Tears prickle my eyes and I try furiously to blink them away. Emotions struggle to take over my body and each other. My mind spins as I blink several times.

I need something solid to anchor to, I need someone.

"Massacre?" a small voice calls. My head whips to the source, the small wooden puppet peering up at me from by bed side. Bones stares into my eyes momentarily and begins to climb onto the bed.

"Are you okay?" he asks as he struggles to pull himself up. I ignore his questions and slip out from under the blankets. My feet touch the floor and immediately start to carry me to Reaper's room.

I don't want comfort from some toy, I want Reaper.

The familiar hum of magic fills my ears and my hands reach up to turn the knob on the door. I follow the light that spills through the door way with my eyes.

The light spills across the plush carpet, the dark comforters of his bed, and the naked female that straddles his hips.

My eyes widen at the sight. The woman ignores my presence but Reaper just lazily turns his head to my direction. His chest struggles to breathe but his eyes are filled with lust.

"Go away" he growls.

I can't make myself look away. I can't stop looking at him, at the way his back arches beneath her.

"Massacre go away" he moans, hands gripping her hips.

My eyes finally shut tight and I turn away, running down the hall way and stairs. I rush to the couch and furiously pull at my hair. I scream and curl into a ball, feeling my limbs beginning to twitch.

"Massacre," a small wooden hand touches my shoulder.

My hand automatically smack his small body away, and that's when it takes over.

I watch as my body begins to tear apart the living room. I throw pillows all over the place and the various picture frames and glass nick-nacs. My fist slam into the television and glass, they begin to bleed. My feet kick over the coffee table.

Through the blinding rage I see Reaper. He starts to wrestle me down the floor but I fight him. I scream and claw at his face. My nails slice his cheek but he remains unaffected. I yell and fight against his grasp.

His amber eyes just watch me and little by little my anger starts to fade. My growls turn into sob and hiccups. My chest struggles to get oxygen. Fingers desperately wrap around the arm that presses an inhaler to my lips. I open my mouth and inhale the medication, teary eyes watching him. His fingers slowly comb through my hair.

I want to be angry at him, I really do.

But I find myself wrapping arms around him and curling into his chest. Reaper picks me up and carries me back to my room. He pulls both of us onto my bed and leans against the head board. My ear listens to the steady rhythm of his heart. One hand still combs through my hair while the other traces my spine.

I close my eyes.