Only A Fraction

By White Ice Widow

He stared at his reflection in the full-sized mirror in front of him. He stared at the smooth planes of his nude, azure body, the long, silken tresses of his green hair, and the golden spheres of his piercing eyes. He hated it. He hated his body. His body was sex. It was lust, it was passion. It was everything and nothing, something yet everything. Anything he wanted and only a fraction of what he really was.

In a swift motion he brought his fist up and slammed it into the mirror, shattering it and sending shards of glass flying in every direction. He dropped his bleeding hand to his side and nimbly walked over to his bathroom. Once inside, he sat himself on the floor and proceeded to pick out the tiny pieces of glass from his hand. Once assured he had rid himself of the mineral nuisance, he stood up and cleaned his hand off in the sink. As the water ran over his smooth satiny hands and long, sharp fingernails he found himself just staring at them, staring at his hands. Hands that stole a thousand lives, that blocked a thousand blows, that dried a thousand tears. His tears, but no one else’s.

He turned off the water and walked back to the bedroom. He slowly crawled on top of the silk, crimson sheets. Sheets that had been stained uncountable times with his deep blue blood, sheets that had soaked up uncountable tears, sheets that had witnessed an infinity of screams, yet he still kept them. He laid on his back and quickly fell into a dreamful slumber. He awoke to a chilling touch on his arm. His eyelids shot up and he saw before him the object of all his hate and pain, love and lust, happiness and sorrow. It stared at him with that chilling, malicious smile that made his blood freeze and soul flutter. It touched his cheek and ran its other hand up his chest to rest on his strong neck. As he felt the hand tighten its grip, he did nothing to stop it, just simply let it slowly drain the life from him, slowly let all the years finally come to a peak, let all the illness be cleansed from his damned soul as the black began to close around his vision. He closed his eyes and smiled, because for the first time in his non-existence, he was loved.