throw me in the flames; oksana

[Makai]

TAKE ME UNDERGROUND, TAKE ME ALL THE WAY BRING ME TO THE FIRE, THROW ME IN THE FLAMES She is fury and when the razor-edge of her wings slice against him, he can feel the blood welling. It is a shallow cut, but he revels in the pain because she deserves to hurt him so much more. It is but a drop in the ocean of agony that he should feel for what he has done. Not just abandoning her, but for ever having the audacity to love her; for being so selfish to draw her into the hellish light of his life. He should have never returned to the meadow, should have never cradled her close, should have never led her to believe he could love in a way that was not wholly broken. So he thrills at the scraps along his flesh. This is justice. But soon the wings turn soft again and he aches for the punishment and the hatred and the knife to his throat (I deserve it, I deserve it, he repeats over and over in his head). So he presses into her more and his mouth becomes more urgent and the heat of her name unravels in a fever. “Oksana,” through gritted teeth because the feel of her malleable form against him could not last. He could not allow it. And it doesn’t. For the softening soon turns to steel when she shoves him away. Her eyes harden (yes, my darling girl, hate me), and even as he unravels from the seams, he presses further into the blade of her anger. “I do love you,” he says and feels himself anticipating the attack. He steps toward her again and waits for the rebuttal, both clinging to her and desperately wanting her to push away again. “I love you. I love our children.” The words now rushed and falling over themselves. “I love you so much.” But in his heart of hearts, he knows the truth. He knows that his love is a poison and his body a corpse. She would never find peace with him or normalcy or anything that she deserved. He could never love her in the light or in the way that she deserved to be loved. So he closes his eyes and hopes that she will push him away--that she will run. “I love you,” he says again as his thoughts center on one thing and one thing only: “Run, my love. For heaven’s sakes, run.” AM I STILL ALIVE OR HAS THE LIGHT GONE BLACK?