And both hands, now use both hands, oh, no don't close your eyes

[despite_myrage]

It is that room with the four walls, filled with the smell of alcohol and her and the monster, which was awakened at the scent, at the slur of her speech.

He is the monster, and she is the prey.

His fists are shoved into the carpet, body trembling, fighting against what he is. A feather sticks in the sweat on his arm. His suit has been torn to

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[wearsnomask]

The lights are blinding and they guide for nowhere. She closes her eyes because it burns, stumbling over to the other side of the room in her haste to get away. Words come slowly and thoughts even more so, and the only reason she is able to move as quickly is because of the fear.

There's fear. More than anger, more than strength, more than love that she has for a man she does not see in the one before her.

It's fear; a layer of disgust thinly veiling it, cracked edges full of the betrayal this implies and it's just as blinding.

I do love you still. Even tonight.

"You lied."

She covers her face with her hands. This isn't her. She isn't weak and she doesn't fold but there she is, crying and screaming and it's not that no one can listen.

It's that no one cares.

[despite_myrage]

"You're drunk," it spits out between sharp teeth, betrayal and hatred wrapped within that word.

It doesn't matter how she's gotten this way.

She's drunk, and she's in front of him. She told Robin that she loved him, believed in him. She said so many things which have no meaning, because she's drunk and she must face the monster, who doesn't care. The monster created by what's running through her veins, stinking up her breath.

"You're drunk. You--" A hiss of pain, of anger, and his fists tremble at his side. The words are nearly incoherent, because they sound like growls. They're not human. They're dark and predatory and threatening. "You lied. You hurt-- You need to be stopped."

If Robin is still somewhere inside it, he is screaming, and he will never be loud enough. He is walking against an endless dark, and he will never take a step into light. He is clawing at his own flesh, and he will never scratch the surface

[wearsnomask]

"I didn't choose this. I've always chosen you," Rachel whispers, exhaustion and pain coiling around every word. How could you love this, Rachel? How? Her head thumps fiercely, like her whole body is a cage and something inside is slamming itself against the bars, screaming to get out.

There's nowhere to run. There are four walls, broken glass, and the monster. He's a monster and nothing else. She's barefoot, shards of the glass digging into the soles of her feet and that doesn't matter, either.

As long as she gets away from him. "Robin, you're hurting me. You're scaring me, please stop. Please.The words are choked by sobs, choked by the panic lodged in her throat, choked by the realization she's not coming out of this alive. All their plans and all their dreams, and it ends with her last breath at his hands

[despite_myrage]

"Then you did choose this." It's another hiss from his lips like poison and fire. He's made of ice, but the rage is fire. The monster is fire, and it melts away what's ice, what's stable and sane, what she fell in love with. But they're the same.

If she chose him, she chose this. This is him. this is a part of him, and Robin told her. Robin warned her. The monster doesn't care that she's chosen them both. Robin and monster, which are one in the same. Two halves of a whole. You can love the one, but it will always come with the other.

She begs. She sobs. She screams, and he doesn't notice. No, it's not that he doesn't notice, even if the way that his expression doesn't change or flinch at the sounds would make it seem like he didn't. He doesn't care. It doesn't care. There's an intense look in his eyes that's completely focused on the kill.

The killing of what the other half loves, and it doesn't matter to him. Nothing matters, but the violence, but fulfilling the anger, but hatred that burns within him