The Better to Taste you With part1

The Better to Taste You With
          chapter 1

        Oh my god, she cut her hair. Its alot shorter than before, well its different but I like it. Her hair is so bouncy especially when she walks back toward the house after getting the mail; almost as if she’s expecting that one exciting letter that will forever change her life. I'd love to touch her hair, just hold it in my hands while I kiss her. I know its smell, I stood behind her once in line at the convenient store, I'm surprised she didn't feel me breathing on her neck. I inhaled that scent, the mixture of her perfumed shampoo that gives off such a very distinct smell and the Apricot/Oatmeal scrub she uses on her face in the morning, it captures me.
      I breathed in so deeply and tried to hold it in, to savor it- but more over to keep from blowing her away when I exhaled. I had closed my eyes to keep it for a second, and was shook back to reality by the clerk calling me. My mind reeled at finding her absence so quickly, and I cursed myself for wasting my time with scent when for the moment I had sight and possibly an accidental touch.
      Although I could go on forever about the air that surrounds her, for now I won't. I'll descript more about why I found her. Background is always nice when it comes to a good love story, and I do love her. Don't ever confuse what I feel for lust or obsession; to do that would dirty the story and you would miss the point. So we'll begin with how I found her............

      She's an amazing writer, and I first read her writing via a free web-hosting site on the net. The site is of no importance, but thanks to that page and her posting a small bit of her work on her main profile, and then to my delight, a link on where to find more; I became a part in this wonderful winged ride that is her life. I was absolutely addicted after the first phrase, and every word after that was just another high that I could reach. I loved everything she wrote, I was transfixed, and I like the way it felt. It was like with mere words she grabbed and you held you deep into the night. If you woke up lonely, you read one of her poems that included the words, "I love you", and you felt like somebody in the world really did.
      I have lots of her work just collected in a notebook, a large purple binder with green dragonflies on it; I know she would approve of it- it's two of her favorite things. I know lots of stuff about her though, more than just what she tells people about herself, I know because I watch. I was rewarded with the gift to see all that goes on her life.
      Oh at first I was like any other man that read her stuff online, but when she stopped coming online, stopped giving us new installments, they fell off, but I never gave up. Sure for a while I tried to be content with reading the same stuff over and over. I memorized most of it, especially the letters from Raven- thats her best work; but I became hungry for her. I missed her so much; I needed her- so I found her and when she moved, I found her again.
      Now she has this apartment, and a job that I can see her at whenever I want; but I don't dare go in too often, I don't want her to know me. I'm not ready for her to see me, to know how much I care- but more over how much I love her. I don't think she could handle it right now, she really has a lot going on and to throw me into the mix would be down right mind-blowing. I mean how would I explain how I found her? How would she take the knowledge of the lengths that I went through to get to her?
        She might be impressed, or angry or scared. But even if slightly weary of me, I still think it would please her greatly to know everything. She is a bit of an attention hound, that’s why she started putting her writing on the web, so people would tell her how great she is, and they did- so in reality the site served for two addictions, hers to attention and everyone else’s to her.
        So you have why I sought her, now for the how- that’s a little less in depth. It was really quite easy, you see for a time she actually became quite close to a few people on that site I mentioned before, one in particular- he had lots of personal information about her all stored right there in his computer, which he keeps plugged in all the time. So getting the vital stuff I needed was easy after I linked into him some.
        All I really needed was his email addy but then it was so wonderful, hearing him talk about her- some the surface stuff I know about her, I got from him. He spoke very freely about her when she ceased contact with him, he seemed very hurt; but his problems were the least of my worries by that time. I got into his computer, got the information I needed and then the rest was easy, sure it became some complicated when she switched states, but even that, with his unknowing help, it became easy. He had her within reach the whole time, but he couldn't hold onto her.   
        Now he can't come within so many feet of her and moreover he can't even call and hear that sweet voice-which I do quite often. I hate to call and hang up like that, but then again what could I possibly say? Besides she probably blames the hang-ups on him-, which is just as well for me anyway. So I get to see her at least twice a day most days, and I call to hear her a couple of times a day. Its difficult to take but its like the more I get the more I want. And if I had her what would I do? Could I keep her happy? I couldn't deal with losing her if she ever truly belonged to me, of that I'm sure.
          Maybe I should have been paying attention when he was crying over her, maybe it was a lesson I could learn without the pain; but you see I have already learned my lesson from his mistake- you never push too hard, sometimes you have to be content with what you get for awhile. Its kinda funny, she told him once- that she compared herself and her affections to a brand new rose bud, if you give it sun and water-via love and attention- and time to grow, she could turn into a beautiful rose. On the other hand, if you tried to just pry the petals open as soon as you start to see the soft shade of color or at the mere hint of scent, the bud will just die, and never be fully enjoyed. He couldn't take what was offered, always wanting more; I have already learned how to be patient and get far more than he could ever imagine.
          I have smelled her, I have seen her in the moonlight (in far less than she should probably be walking around in), I have almost tasted her once via a half glass of merlot she left behind; she is my dream walking. I enjoy her like I do breathing; yes it comes as first nature, yes inhaling more of it gives me comfort within my chest, and yes its something I can't live without- these statements describe her as well as anything you can think of. I have tried to fill my days with other pass times but trust in the knowledge that nothing is as all consuming as loving her.
          Remember before I told you that her writing makes you feel like you're being held- that doesn't even begin to describe it. It’s as if, you know the tingly feeling of first love, the passion of a summer fling, and the comfort of old true love- she is all of that, with just words. She smiles in a poem, she cries in a story, she yells and argues in an online fight- with her words you feel her, and you love the way she makes you feel. It's really that simple.
          And loving her is all that complicated, she calls to me in my sleep and I end up getting up and finding a way to get close to her, even if its just standing under the window to the bedroom where she sleeps. Just once I wished she’d come to the window and see me staring up at her, I want her to hear my heart pounding from way down there in the alley. However it would be quite awkward if her husband chose to join her side at that very moment. It would crush me to see the look of surprise on her face, when she first catches a glimpse of me only to follow that delight with seeing her husband hold her from her behind and guide her back to bed. I know he loves her, but I envy him so much. Being able to hold her in his arms night after night, to feel her body touching his. Does he really know what he holds in that heart of his? Hold on tight dear man, for if you should ever falter, know that I'm waiting here, to catch her, to hold her- and trust I'll never let her go.
          I mentioned before that I have been to her work, which was such an amazing night. More of a roller coaster ride, rather than a wonderful winged ride, (insert nervous laugh here) as I described her life before. It was a Monday night and she is new at this job so she was still training. I arrived shortly after she acquired that table, she tried so hard- I know she did. She smiled, and was nice to the kids and respectful to the adults. She did her best to fill their orders quickly and correctly, but as it all started to fall apart, so did she. I seen her trembling when they started to complain, I watched her tear up when she walked away, I looked on helplessly as panicked and frantic she tried desperately to appease the customers. I even silently cringed as full of shame, the manager walked her out to the table to apologize for her negligence-she should never have the look of shame on her face, it just doesn't fit. But I did feel my spirits rise as I heard her yelling at the manager in the back for chastising the person who was training her. She allows no one to take responsibility for her actions, it was however exciting to hear her yelling and making her point in person- she is very much the way she is online, when she is upset/angry she is overpowering, and you can only sit back and watch in awe.
          I don't get to see that side of her very often any more, it was mostly online. Usually in real life she is very subdued, overly sexual but quiet. Its that quiet calm that keeps you guessing, I think if she were angry at me I would rather have it, hear it all- but apparently she is (although I hate the word) trained, to keep it under wraps. Another funny metaphor she uses for herself, involves when she gets angry and has to let her other self out, she calls it shaking out her feathers- this has to do with her online alter ego, the Blaqueraven. Note the fair amount of respect that goes along with that name, very regal, commanding, alluring, exciting; as if you would wait up all night just to see a glimpse of her in the sky- far out of reach but at least visible.
        That is exactly how it was when she was online, and trust a good many people did show up just to see her briefly, to feel that Raven's hand touch their souls. And that’s how you become hooked, that’s how we all got started with her, and most importantly that’s how I got where I am now. I am totally in love with an almost mythical, predominantly untouchable, sensual creature that reins my every thought. Fate have mercy on my heart.
          That night when she broke down there in front of everyone, it was unbearable, the tears streaming down her face. I wanted to hold her so bad; she slipped outside briefly to compose herself- at that moment I could have taken her away. I wanted to follow her out there, take her hand, whisper a few words in her ears, and then she would have been mine- at least for a while.
I could have held her out there in the moonlight, I might have been able to tell her who I am, honestly that doesn't even matter, I just wanted to hold her. I hate to see her cry, to see the look of disappointment she had on her face that night- the disapproval she had with herself was very unsettling.
          It’s just that I hold her up so high, she is my love, my lady, my queen; I honestly love her. I have watched her with her kids, all bright and sunny- the three of them outside are like a spring day. I have seen her angry, slightly depressed with her life, once again agreeing to do something she doesn't want to do. You should have seen the pain in her eyes the first time I seen her after she took out her third hole (its an earring thing, it was very important to her). But now she is just solemn with that decision, she did it to prove her commitment to her husband and her marriage.
          You might be thinking that this should deter me from loving her, that maybe I should try to find someone free. If this is your feeling so far, then you haven't grasped a very important point- she is the one. A lot of people may believe she is their "one" as well, but there are two facts undeniable- she belongs to him, and I absolutely love her. It is virtually impossible to know her and not feel something for her, but once you read her-say goodbye to your heart.
          But giving my heart to her is something I would easily sacrifice, I already gave up my home and am ready to offer my soul if it'll help.  I'll not state how far I traveled just to be at her side, but I will hint as to the fact that during my brief near encounter with her at the restaurant where she works, I was very careful not to speak when she was around not to any of the wait staff or otherwise- she would have picked up on my voice immediately. I know she would have and that would have been the nail in my coffin, she would have come over to my table and asked where I was from and heart evident, my expressions for her would have come pouring out.
            And then what, poor Raven falls to the floor from over exposure to love, though she doesn't seem the type prey to fainting spells. Were I to tell that my trip was long and somewhat scary for a man in my position, that it was nothing but passion and love that got me here because when it comes to her I have no free will, I feel that maybe she may very well have to sit down from the shock of it all. And where better a place to sit than at my very table, oh yes that would have been a very good idea after all. At least, here in my mind and in my heart it seems to be, but would it really be her overcome with feelings of weakness, or would my own butterflies be my downfall instead?
        She is the very beat of my heart, this may seem cliché, but it takes very basic metaphors to describe a love that feels so natural. I wake in the morning with her name on my lips and I go to sleep every night praying that when I do wake it will be to the gentle sound of her voice answering me. I have yet to have those prayers answered but here again is where the patience comes in, I know that to press myself upon her would be too great; so I live here among the letters, words and phrases- and yet dying somehow to get out. But if my death would result in my heaven spent with her then with this I could be quite content. I just want her, I mean I need her. I feel sometimes that my heart was only put inside my chest to be a vessel surging to remind me how much she affects me.
      There are times when I curse my heart, my soul and my mind for allowing me to get so drawn in on such an untouchable creature. It’s like falling in love with a butterfly; the colors hypnotize you, you watch them twirl and perform, and then you follow them as it flutters and dances right before your eyes.
      The only problem is while you’re watching, you forget everything else. Reason goes out the window, logic no longer exists, and you find yourself falling, tripping and subjecting yourself to dangers, just to keep watching. And I do keep watching, as I said I’m hooked, addicted; life is just an invasion on my time in watching her, an interference I sometimes can’t afford.
        I like to believe myself a rational man, not subject to fits of rage or violence, but there are times when I just can’t control myself. When it comes to her, I lose all ability to think for myself. Remember I mentioned her calling to me, she doesn’t just do it at night; she does it all day long- she talks to me in my head, telling me what to do next, coaching me along the steps that will bring me closer to her side. And the odd thing is I don’t even think she knows how well I have carried out her cries for help. When people have hurt her I got rid of the pain by getting rid of the cause. I couldn’t very well walk right up and hold her, comfort her as I would have liked to- but I did eliminate the problem.
          Like that asshole Sam Manning, him and his bitch wife thought it would be fun to screw with her life a little. They went to great lengths to cause her agony over the internet- calling her names, making fun of her work, trying to dirty the beautiful dark veil that made her beyond their ugly reach. Although they did cause her pain, they did make her cry, hell they were one of the reasons she left us all behind- they will never cause anyone pain again. They were just as easy to find as she was, maybe even easier since I was so driven to avenge her. I hunted them like the dogs that they were and made them sorry for hurting her. The whore screamed and cried and begged, it was pathetic. I watched with no mercy- I showed them what she wanted them to see. She wanted them to know agony, I fed it to them on a glass spoon.
          I silenced him first, he was no match; lame, weak, sad- hardly the hard-core stud he portrays online, people are never what they seem. I couldn’t wait to recount to her the memories I had of getting rid of them. I could hear them arguing and her yelling about taking a shower. When I came in Manning was in the living room downstairs, half passed out. It was almost natural coming up behind him, making sure he’d seen the large shiny machete. The blade glistened in the light from the TV and the blue glow seemed to hush my prey as the gash in his throat began to spread wider until his blood was pouring fluidly from his neck.  I loved  talking to him while the pain cut through his skin, whispering softly and driving him madly into death ,“it’s amazing what you’ll do for the love of an amazing woman, you should have never tried to soil her the way you did, let the Raven’s heart be avenged!”
          She would have smiled at the site of him quivering in fear, not concerned with his wife only with himself; and the bitch seemed real surprised to see me standing over his blood leaking body. She actually tried to run, screaming about me taking whatever I wanted as long as I don’t kill her, as if she could bargain with me. I simply caught her up by the back of her hair and yanked back to me. She started scrambling to pull her robe tighter around her flaccid body, questioning if my intent is to rape her, I couldn’t contain my laughter any longer.
          “That idea is purely preposterous, I wouldn’t take it if you were giving it away. You are a clear cut whore, and I wouldn’t waste the time it would take to make myself sink to a level low enough to want you.” She actually seemed hurt, as if she had a heart beating inside her soon to be lifeless chest. Even as she starting begging for a reason why I knew she only wanted to excuse herself from blame, pretended not to know why I was there for them. I took great pleasure in explaining how thankful the Raven would be that I waited quietly for them, killed them quickly and left them to rot in hell. I noticed the look of shock on her face while still gripping her hair and holding her body arched, I brought the machete down with all my might. Severed clean, I was sure to drop it in her husband’s lap; I figured he’d enjoy a little head.



The Better to Taste You With
        chapter 2

      Across the oceans, thousands of miles away, she slept peacefully, silently, quietly; unknowing the events that had been called upon in her honor. She had started her life all over committing herself to her marriage, finally deciding to give it the attention it deserved. By beginning again she left all the confusion behind. All those mixed up days allowing flooded emotions to rule her decision-making skills were over, now she was clear about what she wanted. She had no more problems setting her priorities- kids and husband, house, job, writing-all the things that would lead her to her future, no more being stuck in the past. Life had started to get real good, a new job that wasn’t easy but was alot of fun, a new apartment that was starting to feel alot like home, and her marriage was becoming more like a working relationship and less like a relationship that needed work. There had been a time when she allowed her desires to over flow everything that was important, her needs and wants was all she thought about. The once caring, honest, pure personality she had come to be quite proud of had faded to the backdrop to allow the Raven to come forward. That part of her, although quite pleasing to some, was nothing but a war on her soul causing her to do undeniably dark things.
          If everyone truly has an equal amount of bad and good inside them, Raven is then the equivalent of all that was selfish inside of her. Although unsure whether or not split personality would be the correct way to describe what was occurring at that time, the Raven definitely had a mind of her own. She answered to no one, didn’t owe anyone a thing, had no responsibilities; she had one purpose in life- self-service. But now the Raven was gone, pressed way back down where she couldn’t cause destruction anymore. Every once when in a while she could feel that surging inside, the desire to shake out her feathers and wreak a little havoc; but as of yet she has kept that side of herself under control. She said goodbye to the Internet and all that it contained; the fantasies, the lies, the friendships and enemies.    With an enthusiastic wave good riddance to the ones who had tried to hurt her. Now it was time to get on with her life, her real life. No more allowing another persona to get away with murder.
          Sure some of the people that she had to leave behind she would sorely miss, but there were others that she could have gladly done without ever having met. One of the contributing factors to leaving the cyber world behind was the fact that she had become target of a vicious group that would stop at nothing to ridicule her. The tight knit family of backstabbers was comprised of a married couple, a loser/loner teenager that was infatuated with the wife, and a sad older woman who had fits of jealousy coupled with bouts of depression. Throw in a younger boy who knew many intimate details about her life and who was weak to be pulled into this war, and he became an unwitting vessel for the undoing of the Blaqueraven. Together they destroyed her self-esteem, her self-respect, and caused her turmoil within her own heart. But all of this did make her realize that perhaps it was time to put a check on her own life and the light in which she was viewing it. Then again, the ones she would miss; T.J. Schylar, a computer programmer from U.K., a genuinely good person and over all the best friend a girl could have via the Internet. There was also Tristian, a kid from Scotland, who was always up for a good laugh, and seemed to show respect and kindness, which she repaid with attention and good-natured humor. She had had other friends but these two would stand out the most, these were the two that she would actually miss. Some of the people online that she spoke with were just someone to pass the time with, someone to share opinions with, and someone to reach out to; which is what got her into this mess.
          When she reached out to people, they felt touched. There was a certain amount of energy with everyone she talked to, very few people disliked her. Those that did almost always had an underlying reason stemming from jealousy, half witted stupidity, or just plain malicious nature; most people generally adored her.  Truthfully she loved the attention, the way she could feel the people light up when they seen her come online, it was like she had fans. People who really wanted to see what she would say next, who waited to read every word she typed, she felt like a celebrity. It was too easy to get sucked into the attention, too difficult to walk away from all that excitement; but she did it, left it all behind. She was ready to move on.


The Better To Taste You With
          chapter 3

      So now you know how my mission carries out, I have a plan. I have known for quite a while how to get close to her. See first you have to know her, know everything about her, watch her and inhale the very essence that is “she”. It prides her to believe that a man could want to know her so deeply, so intently as to watch, and learn everything about her. The simplest things like how she likes her eggs and her morning coffee, the more complicated things like how she deals with stress, the funny things like how she looks when she’s had too much to drink, and the beautiful site that she is from the moment she wakes up in the morning to the second she rests her head against the pillow; I know her. Then I had to figure out what would please her, and she made that part easy when she started speaking to me in my dreams.
      It happened one night after I had particularly needed her, I missed her lovelight so much, and the gentle glow that seemed to vibrate from the computer while she typed. That night I had spent the whole evening repeatedly reading everything ever written by her, about her, things her friends had written, even the piles of crap that the assholes of the online world had left behind to stain her. I just wanted to feel close to her, it had been so long since she had been online. Then all at once like an angel of mercy, she was there.
        At first she only spoke in a gentle hushed sigh, sweetly calling me, until I was tossing and turning in my sleep. Just when I started believe that this was just my mind’s way of compensating for the loss, she appeared in a vision telling me how much she liked my company, and how all she ever wanted was someone to respect her for who she was. I told her over and over how much I had missed her and all the beautiful words she wrote, and that nobody would ever appreciate her the way I do. She giggled and my heart was pounding, I felt fire all through my body and then she was gone again.
        I ached for her all the next day and as it turned out for a few nights after that, I could almost sense she was staying away for a reason. When she came to me that last day I knew why she was saving up her contact with me. She wanted me too miss her, to want her, to need her; it was how she would weave her spell on me to get me to do the things she knew no other man would carry out for her. She taunted me with loneliness and then offered me the key to eternal happiness.
        I could barely hear her voice as she reminded me of how much they had hurt her, and how she had done nothing to provoke their juvenile disregard for her feelings. As she spoke, I understood, and as I understood she smiled. When she gleamed at me with those flashing brown to green eyes, I felt chills run through my body. She seemed to concrete the idea already solid in my mind with a whisper, “Thankyou ever so much.” and then she was gone again.
        This time for good until my mission was complete, but when she did return it would no longer be a dream or a haunting vision of possible affection, she would be mine. I will have earned her love. I will be worthy because I took away the pain, I will do what nobody else would. I will give her back her honor by destroying the source.
        At first it was difficult getting started, committing myself to finishing the job; but I kept returning to her face, and how it lit up at the prospect of my accepting her challenge. I knew then I couldn’t turn back; I had to complete this in order to keep that sacred place in her heart. It was very simple, I punish the wicked for her and she comes to me; she is my reward, my prize. I will have her when this is done. I just love her so much; for her I would do anything. By the time I had moved to the second person on my list of people who had to pay for the hurt in her eyes, it became much easier. Especially when I actually came in contact with the little waste of space.
        Poor little Randy was home all alone, big surprise. I just walked right in the front door as he sort of dazed in and out of the zoned out stumper left over from too many pills. At first he seemed startled and then strangely welcoming; I almost recoiled at his attempt to invite me in. Then I remembered my reason for being there and set back to the task. He didn’t ask who I was, didn’t even ask why I was there, he just sank back in the chair, grinned and turned back to the TV. My original confusion quickly turned to utter delight as I prepared to give him the taste of fear; “I am here to deliver the wrath of the Raven”, I proudly stated.
      He looked at me straight faced, blinked several times and then laughed. “You’re here for what? You’ve got to be kidding. The Raven? You mean that girl from the message board? Like online? She sent you here? Like to do what? Is this some kinda joke?”
      My muscles tensed at his sense of mockery, and it was all I could do to simmer the rage long enough to fully explain to him. I slowly stated how badly his contribution to destruction of her character hurt her, then awaited his reaction. “Look dude, it was all just a bit of fun. It’s the Internet, a fucking message board for Christ’s sake. She’s the one who had to put herself all out there, had to always be the center of attention. She got what she asked for; everybody paid attention to what was said about her,” he laughed, wanting me to see the humor of it all. When he seen the lack of pleasure on my face he began grabbing at straws which appeared to be his fatal mistake.
      As I heard the words “Come on, she’s just some girl; not worth flipping out over.” my soul shattered and I felt myself spill out all over reality. “You have no idea what she is, you could never know, she never would have truly let you in, you are just some prick who thought he might be good enough and she rejected you.”
      I heard the words as if I were an onlooker waiting for the big action scene to begin. As I stepped closer his face puffed up as if he were about to explode, like he was trying to hold something in; he should have tried harder. “That bitch rejected no one.” as quickly as he said it he wanted to take it back, I know he did, too bad.
      I did a double take, looking at him, I could do nothing but stare; and then a flash of red caught my attention. I felt time stand still as the words fell from his mouth and then everything else was on fast forward, inevitable. I lost all of my composure at that moment, it was no longer a calculated action, it was pure reaction. I purged forward and ripped out his useless throat; I heard the lovely sound of bones snapping, and then a gurgling noise from the blood that was left in his voice box.   
      The sticky red juice ran down my wrist as I looked into the lifeless face of Randy. I noticed the bugged out eyes, his head all limp and Jell-O like; he looked like a dead chicken- just as weak, just as useless. At least with the chicken I could have eaten the meat.
        It took some strength as I stepped over his body to shake off the remnants of his life trying to stain my hand. Blood is a funny thing when you kill somebody, almost like it takes on the soul of the dead. Spilling out onto the floor, sliding towards all openings trying to seep out, maybe a last ditch effort to escape. It kinda confirms the idea that the soul juice holds a bit of the personality of the person that it leaked from- sneaky, cowardice, and embracing an undeniable stench; yep that was Randy. 


The Better To Taste You With
      chapter 4

      It seemed that throughout her life she had tried to always take other people’s feelings into consideration, that whole do unto others thing. For the most part she got everything she needed  in life and most everything she wanted as well. She definitely considered herself fortunate, to not be thankful for all the gracious gifts she had received would almost be a sacrilege. Still she was not unlike most other women in the respect that she was always wondering if there might be something more. It wasn’t as if she didn’t want what she had, or even that she was just trying to be greedy, she just felt like something was missing. That’s where the writing came in.
      She could always remember having the ability to write, it just seemed to come natural to her. It was one of those gifts she had been so appreciative of, and it seemed a waste not to share with someone. So when she started getting so much praise from the people online, other souls from many different areas all around the world, she felt complete. The feeling of validation that came from so many people reading the words she wrote and having such a fondness and respect for her was like nothing she could explain to those around her.
      However, with all the good comes the bad, it was unavoidable. Unfortunately the bad were very bad, it consumed her, and she was driven to draw the affection from her readers. She wanted them to love what she wrote, she wanted them to love her as a writer, and she wanted them to love her. At first it all started with a few heated poems, but after it didn’t take long before people were wishing they were the subjects of those  phrases. Wanting to be the person she was talking about, wanting to be the person she lays down with at night, wanting to be her only distraction. When it came to giving the masses what they wanted it was easy, she was a writer; she sat down and wrote. She soon became addicted to the responses, and much like any other high, you go to any lengths to get the next level. She would do anything to make them want her, to have them needing to read her, to feel like they couldn’t do without her.
      Then there came a time when being in the lime light turned into being in the hot seat 24/7; if she wasn’t catering to somebody’s fantasy of what she must really be like, she was verbally battling somebody for respect. The loving friendships she thought she had acquired soon turned out not so useful, to get close to the Raven became a game for some. All of a sudden to find anything possible to use for comic relief was the online job for a few. They did whatever it took to grind her ebony feathers to bleeding stumps; until broken, she departed the cyber world taking only her damaged pride with her.
      That day she had not intended to even come online, but opportunity presenting itself, she opened the door to the fires of hell. When she came to the site she found scandalous lies, blasphemous betrayals, and the overall sickening feeling that someone had gone to great lengths to humiliate her. The hatred she felt coming from the intentions of those behind it could be described as only dark; as black a soul as one could have to do the things they did. So she decided that with all that evil in this place it was time for her to rise above, and the most prominent way to do that was to go out with the flair of a writer in pain. She decided to let the Raven name die off all together, as it didn’t seem she would be missed at all anyway. All the people who had pretended to be so interested in her, never came to her assistance; so the cyber suicide seemed to be the best idea.
She went online that day, found the dark side of the site and began composing the last verse of the Raven’s career. She could still remember word for word the hauntingly original way she spelled her own demise:

Delicate hands grip white candles and arrange them gently around the bathroom, as the warm water fills the tub. Loving hands open the cd player and places the mood music, Insatiable by Darren Hayes-recorded five or so times, in the awaiting holder. The blade is icy hot as it slides along the blue/purple shaded lifelines, and the sticky blood begins to drip from my arms. I lay back in the tub and allow the music to soothe my pain and increase my salvation as life slips away. Tear stained cheeks, blood soaked white slip of a dress, and a scarred heart-this is my final goodbye.

      The funny thing about it all was at first it didn’t even hurt, leaving all of it behind. It was almost as if it were time, time to see life in a different light. True enough, some of her friends would have appreciated a more personal goodbye, some of her fans probably thought they deserved it, but this is the way she started over.


The Better To Taste You With
        chapter 5

        That stupid fuck who did he think he was trash talking her like that. He didn’t even deserve to breath much less utter her name. A woman like her doesn’t deserve men like him panting over her, she needs to be adored and loved- even if from a far. I mean honestly, I gave up everything I had back home just to be close to her; I wouldn’t have done that for “just some girl”. Pathetic stupid fuck, I can’t believe how easy it was for him to slam her like that. I don’t understand why he would want to hurt her, that sweet delicate flower that causes me to tremble at the thought of touch. I can’t comprehend how any man could resist wanting to be in her good graces. I left a beautiful apartment close to my family and friends, took a leave of absence from a job that I didn’t necessarily like but it paid well, flew half way around the world to live in a scarcely furnished shack just to be nearer to her. The closer I get though the more and more worth it all it becomes. I will have her, and for now this little place isn’t so bad. Okay so its not what I’m used to, here I have no furniture and the only thing I have for decor is sketches I’ve done of Raven, but I’m surrounded by her everywhere between the drawings and her poetry. It makes it all easier to move on to the next step.
          Before the Raven, I was alone. Now I have her constantly, she is always with me. Granted she doesn’t talk to me right now, but that’s so she doesn’t distract me. She wants me to have a clear head, and if I heard her all the time I wouldn’t be able to stay steel minded enough to carry out the mission. She really has been quite good for me, now I set goals and stand behind them. I want her, I will have her. I need to rid the world of some bad people, I go out and stomp them off the face of the Earth. The original planning behind starting all this took major decision making. First I had to get the leave of absence, then I liquidated everything so I would have enough money, and lastly I had to come up with a good excuse to tell my family for my disappearance.
        That was probably the most difficult part, they have been quite worried about me since she left. Its hard to wake up in the morning with no sunshine to wake up to, if there’s nothing to hear why listen, without the vital oxygen why should I inhale, it was that simple. I was gasping for air until that night she came to me, and then I was refreshed. Apparently it showed on my face, so when I went to my mum’s house to say goodbye she was very surprised to see me, but nothing prepared her for the shock of my news of travel. I only told her that I needed some time to find life again, and I would have to leave the area to do that. I informed her that complacency was my biggest enemy, and I would have to shake up the norm some. After that I embarked on the journey that would bring me to my Raven’s side.
      This trek that I’ve been on for sometime now takes me all around the world, and I’m finding history, and culture, and love. So now I’m on the last leg of my trip, I have two more names on the list. This next one should be easy, and fun, time to get prepared.


The Better To Taste You With
      chapter 6

        Through all the affection and attention she received from her online fans, she always seemed to be still waiting for the one. It was as if she was still caught up in that little girl world of “someday my prince will come”. She was married, had two beautiful children, countless friends from around the world, but she couldn’t stop seeking. If life were as romantic and glorious as she dreamed it, everything would have been just fine. Unfortunately that was the double edged sword that was her imagination, sure it helped to write the much loved stuff that brought her notoriety; but it also caused her to day dream entirely too much. A combination of romance novels, daytime soaps, a slow started love life, and that wild thought stream makes for very high expectations.
      Since she was very young she was under the assumption that love was a wonderful feeling full of wonderment and surprises. She believed that everyday should be like a birthday, either hers or her mates; but at the very least that being in love would always be a pleasurable thing. She learned very early that it wasn’t always like that; she found out very quickly about the ways of the world and how the male gender worked. Once she honed in on those writing skills, and then became more in touch with liking who she was as a person, life and love became alot easier.
        Then things got difficult again after a couple of years, about the period the Raven persona became present. It was at that time that she stopped caring about anyone else’s feelings but her own that she became the most able to understand the human interaction, and figured out that she had the ability to make things happen; to manipulate people to get what she wanted. It seemed all she wanted was to find contentment, but with each accomplishment there was one more star to reach for, one more thought to read, one more dream to induce.
      She wanted to know how far she could actually go with this, how much could she make them want her. For one it would be enough to disrespect other friends for, for another it would be enough to toss aside all current popularity and raise her above everyone else; but most importantly the one criteria for acquiring that special gift she would share with them, you had to know how to keep certain details about her secret.
        When the Raven took over everything got out of control and she would go to any lengths to reach out and touch the people who read her stuff. She was more aggressive under the Raven name than she could have ever been in her normal life. Even now however, she was missing something; even though she had left all that the Raven held behind. What would it take to silence that ever present need for more? Would there ever be a time when she could say yes this is it, this is what I have needed? To believe throughout your life that there is this magical hero out there that would go to any depths for her hand and rise to any occasion to please her was just a fantasy. Wasn’t it?

The Better To Taste You With
          chapter 7

          It seems kinda uncomfortably the norm to me to have found her there alone in that tiny little house, drinking way too much, vodka me thinks. As I knocked at her door, I could see her crossing the foyer to the door. I eagerly watched her staggering in an ugly blue nightgown barely covered by a sloppy robe as she clumsily gained steps toward the door. Pressing her face against the glass, she scanned me from behind the door, “I have something for you”- of course she is overjoyed at the idea of companionship even if it is a deliveryman. She opened the door very wide almost stumbling against it for support. It was mind blowing the look on her face to find me empty handed, as if she was puzzled but too drunk to be scared. I breezed right past her, it was a combination of feeding on her confusion and an effort to denote my lack of desire to count her presence.
          As I continued through the house room to room until I located the source of tonight’s pleasure I concentrated on the details I needed for the evening. Up in the medicine cabinet the collection of prescription emotional painkillers that helps her deal with her lame little life; it’s time to begin. While kneeling at the tub, I briefly thought of my sweet Raven; how sad she must have been the day she left these very details behind to say goodbye to us. All because of this bitch, the onlookers that supported her and her stupid obsession, what a reason for so many people to go through so much pain.
          The agony of losing the Raven for all of us was somewhat unfathomable to them. They couldn’t understand the attraction for her, but then they couldn’t be expected to now could they. Well now they would all know, and those of us that were left behind can have her back; remove the cause, remove the pain, remove her reason for leaving and she shall return.
        Oh great day when she does come back, the world has missed her gentle song. When I read those words that she printed as her goodbye letter, I was crushed, I can only assume everyone else who loves her was as well. How can anyone not agree that these people need to be punished for denying us the pleasure of reading? You see I’m doing the world a service by getting rid of them, starting with the Manning’s and following through until the job is done. Most importantly carrying out this one, happily handling this one; like I said this one was gonna be fun.
          I plugged the drain and began filling it with warm water. Hearing her stumbling around behind me, I put on my game face; that prize winning dimpled smile that courted her into taking a few of the mind altering pills that she has come to know all to well. I left her sitting dazed on the floor while I located the cd player and placed the single song that could snap her into enough reality to be afraid. It is the fear that I need to see, without the pain I am just doing her a favor. Killing her and putting her out of her misery would be a gift until she hears the deep breathing beginning of “Insatiable” playing in the other room. As the volume increases she started to scramble, I think she is beginning to understand. Remember this picture? Come on girlie, think about it. As I walked in from the other room with candles and a thin white dress, her color pales to translucent and I knew I had her. “Are you afraid yet? Are you sorry you let me in? Do you know why I’m here? Oh yes you know don’t you? I can see it all over your face. You are sitting there in that crumpled little heap on the floor remembering in depth the day you read this scene typed out. You were happy that day, why is it I wonder that you can’t find that elation right now? Come on lets get you into this dress before the water grows cold.”
        I lifted the nightgown over her head and slipped the dress back in its place. She seemed so mixed between delusion and horror that she never even fought the idea. Unfortunately she was out before I could finish the job, which was a little disappointing. As I started to slide her into the water she hardly moved; I didn’t even get to ask if the blade really was icy hot.