Learn to Hate

Outside, the rain pounded on his head. It was so loud that even the man's erratic breathing was failing him. Teeth bared, arms quivering, pupils dilating. . .His breaths came out in puffs, arms clenched at his sides. Nothing could tame the hard anger pent inside of him, or decapitate the cement that weighed down on him this very moment. He was shaking uncontrollably. He was so, -so- angry that he couldn't distinguished the tears, the warm droplets sliding into his mouth, from the cold raindrops pouring over him.

He glared inside the window of his enemy's house. The exterior was white, the door wooden and brown, the grass was freshly green, the pathway consisting of smooth rocks the size of a bike's peddle. The curtains were drawn back. The lights were out. Inside lay darkness—indicating emptiness.

Bile rose in his throat. Abruptly, he fell to the muddy grass, hands digging into the muck, breathing choppy, stomach falling, hands tingling--

He bellowed out his pain, over and over again. . .

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His hands―after touching so many other parts of my body―delved into my white laced underwear. Our hair was blowing in the wind, and on the outskirt of the scene being displayed, was darkness, offering comfort. My mouth opened, but whatever was to be said was quickly hushed when the man's mouth brushed mine. At that moment, my back arched up, and he withdrew. Soundless words fell from his lips that brought me to draw my brows together and his lips to curl into a cruel, promising smile. Abruptly, his fingers plunged into me with force that shook the scene, the table, knocked plants over, glass pieces flew upward from crashing on the concrete, red liquid falling onto my face―

I jolted up from sleep, eyes wide, breathing out heavily, my hand over my heart, clutching the white tank top that clung to the sweat coating my skin. After gazing out into the haze and darkness of my room, my stomach received the sickening feeling it acquired when this happened. I gave myself no time to generate anything further, feet fleeing to the bathroom. I'd barely moved my hair out of the way before vomit went splashing into the toilet, my body contracting constantly. Five minutes passed with on and off purging.

This couldn't be happening. At least not now. Not today. Not―I wretched again, ending on a whimper of torture. Inside I trembled; outside I shook. Not trusting myself to my thoughts and nothing more, I forced myself on shaky limbs and searched for something to do.

In the dark room, I quirked my ear and listened through the walls intently. No movement was detected, meaning they were all still asleep or in bed. Half shocked, I peered at the grandfather clock ticking from the far corner. My mouth drops on. 5:41 AM. Lips pursed, I grab my phone and stalk to the bathroom.

Tomorrow―or today rather―was the day our tribe went and met with the major and other city appeals to discuss after dinner the buying of this land. The land was bought specifically for demons―my family and other tribes and tribe members. Not that the guest would know that. All in all, I had a feeling I would be sick for the rest of this day. This could be either a bad thing or a very good thing. How long had I tossed and turned? An hour and one minute to be exact. I would never function on that little sleep and I -certainly- wasn't going back to sleep after. . .I shuddered and moved closer to the toilet (just in case).

Aile picked up on the first ring, greeted by my snapping, "Why are you no'ch asleep?!" Aside from my inability to pronounce the T sound, she got the message.

"Two things," she began, her favorite line in the world. "First, you're the psychic, so you tell me why I'm ''no'ch'' asleep. Second, -you- called -me-."

I raked my brain for a witty retort, particularly in the mood to scold someone but she had me beat. As usual. "I called because I had a vision―"

"Big surprise."

"―and i'ch scared me."

She cleared her throat. "Everything scares you, for one. For two, no vision would have occurred if you'd taken your meds."

Searching for a flaw, I flushed the toilet hastily. I had nothing again. "I know, bu'. . .Aile, I. . .I'sh jus' no'ch―help me," I moan out. I would die before that vision came true. And heaven and hell both knew the visions simplified things, gave me only the main point. If I were really to be there with that man, his fingers exploring. And that smile. . .

She snickered. "Stop breathing into the phone so hard. You're overreacting. Tell me what happened, who died. C'mon. I can handle it. Was it my mom? Hell knows I need her out of my life."

I tried not to think on what Aile meant by that. Everyone knew Aile had the biggest family problems in the world―ones I enjoyed laughing at and picking on her for (which didn't add up to the amount of times she spit cruel words at me). Still, I hesitated, picking the hairbrush up, putting it down, biting my lip, turning over a shampoo bottle. "Well," I began, my stomach doing that flip thing again, bile rising in my throat at the memory. I closed in on the toilet. "I'ch was ch'is guy―a mean looking guy, if you will― and we were, uhm, he was . . .ch'ouching me," I mumbled.

A long silence followed. Then, "Well?" Aile said in irritation, her voice hitching a notch. "Or was that the scary part?"

"Ugh!" I ground into the phone, hanging it up angrily. She was the wrong person to call. I loved her to death, but sometimes she just didn't -get- it. Some scary looking guy had bad intentions for me, and she found that the least bit scary.

Eying myself in the mirror, I was aware of how I was considered ugly among demons. The reason was simple, yet ranging vastly on others' point of view. Every demon had a mark starting at their lower backs, and as the years went on, this mark spread in the image of flowers, swirls, leaves, vines, and thorns. To stop this, you had to take the soul of a human (which was also the only way to live past thirty years of age―and to stop aging completely). The color was either black or purple. Usually men had black, women purple. -I- had them both because I couldn't bring myself to look into another's eyes and inhale their life. No matter how good it was said to feel.

The markings went from my back, plagued over my shoulder, and covered the entire left side of my face with floral designs. The markings were slowly taking over half of my body. And it would continue.

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"If you don't relax, Lira, I swear I will take each of these pins and stab you with them." Aile yanked my hair into it's uphold, her eyes narrowed on me in the mirror, daring me to tense again over a thought. Her eyes, shooting black instantly, signified me that she was serious. Females' eyes got that way when emotions were getting the best of them, while male's were strictly black. "Would you like Mr. Mysterious to catch you vulnerable?"

My hands clenched. Sitting in this chair became harder than the struggle to not hyperventilate. I gulped, exhaled, and met Aile's eyes. She smiled. I sighed.

"Tell me the story again." Her interest in the vision had me believing she thought about it more than I. Aside from the weirdness of that, I was happy someone was on board with my tension. We both knew it was bound to happen. While she couldn't wait, I was prolonging leaving my room or going to any dark places.

"Ch'is is dumb," I said. "I'm only ch'wenty-ch'ree. I should a'ch -leas'- have a say in when I wan'ch ch'o lose my virginichy. I mean, who does ch'is guy ch'ink he is? Barging into my visions and showing me how, and when I would―"

"Getting fingered is not losing your virginity in my book, for one." She rested her hands on the counter top, eyes glinting from the light. "C'mon, you only gave half the story. Would you rather me stalk you until it happens?"

I choked on a breath. "No! You. . .you shr'ay away from me for. . .days―yeah, days. Clear?" No, it wasn't and we both knew it. "-You- may find ch'is incheresting. I find i'ch scary. And painful. Aile, he jus' shoved i'ch in me. Hard enough ch'o where I was forced from my vision."

She moaned; I suppressed tears.

She was much shorter than me, but everyone knew she wore the pants, the shoes, the shirt, the belt, the watch and any other attire in this friendship. Her horns were symbols of her first kill, short, but spiky, black and grey candy cane designed. She had them put away for now, though. Her eyes were cooling into their natural hazel. She had curves. No. Not just curves, but the toned, tanned legs that I knew were hairless. Her brown hair hung to her back in small waves like my own. She was considered pretty.

I, in comparison, couldn't touch that. I was pale, wore glasses on occasion (since the only time I could see clearly was when my eyes were black-shot and my body surrendered to the demonic senses that ran like a current beneath all demon's skin). But when did that ever happen with me? So I had glasses, light brown eyes, dark brown hair that was a bit below my butt. I was 5'5. My best feature was my hair and I didn't really consider that a feature. I had a terrible accent that came from darker days I kept pent up, and those markings that marked me as ugly.

"We have to be down stairs," She craned her head toward the clock in the bedroom. "now."

I let her drag me into the hall of the house. Now it was filled with sound, my brothers going about their daily business since they didn't have to go to some boring dinner.

Outside of the house, we walked across the vast terrain of grass and houses and to the long, brick built building a few yards from my own home. The neighborhood was silent. Not much happened here. Not until night anyway.

We ran. I looked over at Aile, her white, not too fancy dress flailing against the winds, her hair cascading around her. With each foot that pounded on the ground brought a round of comfort to me. She was graceful, pretty. I had the graceful part in check. I enjoyed dancing. It delighted me when I was younger and to this day it was my passion. Twirling, bowing, dipping, jumping. . .

I smiled, which very quickly became a frown when I caught sight of my dress. It hugged the barely noticeable curves I had, and stopped just shy of my thighs. Not like anyone was looking in my direction any time soon. It was pretty I had to admit, though. Though short, the tendrils of silk that tickled my thighs as I ran was pretty. I could have selected better shoes―I stopped my racing thoughts.

I wasn't suppose to care how I looked. I didn't.

At the archway of the place, we stopped, caught our breath and looked at each other. She was flushed, her cheeks red, a smile stretching on her lips. "Ready to discuss boring shit?"

"Aren'ch I always?" I asked, my smile mirroring hers. Ah, Gods I loved this girl. Who else would throw reality at my face the way she did? Despite her being three years older than me, we really were inseparable.

Our family's father and mother were one of the many tribes' leaders. They wore the look well. My father had his glamor pulled up well. And inside, people in suits were gathered about, roaming around the dining rooms, the rooms upstairs. So far, the only people I recognized were Aile's parents and my own father. The others, being elders, wore their glamor or had their emotions concealed.

I easily noted how the demons kept their distance with the humans. They didn't want to risk exposure. Though we were all hiding our nature well, humans weren't as stupid as we wished to put them out to be.

I rounded the corner, in search of a place to sit and wait for the dinner to start, but instead I found my face mashed against a wall. Stepping back, I heard Aile's breath catch. I looked at her astonished face and hurriedly back to the wa―man. My mouth fell open as well as hers. I blinked a few times, then grabbed Aile's arm, lips quivering, stomach falling, fear striking, tears building.

"Ma'am?" he asked.

"Ch'ake me away from him," I all but cried softly to Aile. She wasn't listening. She was gulping in the sight of him, licking her lips, stepping closer instead.

The man, standing at tall foot tall, had black hair with golden highlights, and that hair was pulled into a ponytail, and still, the ponytail extended an inch below broad shoulders that seemed to be suffocating this cramped turned. With Aile behind me and the guy in front of me, peering at me with dark blue, piercing eyes, I felt faint. My breathing grew shallow. How could I speak, when all I could picture were those purplish-pink, full lips meshing against my soft, pink ones? Or know those hands. My eyes flew to his hands and my own went to my chest.

"Is she okay?" he asked, stepping back as if not to frighten me.

Aile tore her attention from him to me. She looked a bit dazed. "Oh, her. She's fine. She just gets this way when she meets. . .new people." She was sinking into her old self again while I was sinking into a black hole of despair.

He narrowed his eyes. I would have assumed accusingly if I had the guts to challenge the look, but instead, I turned away in a flash, dragging Aile with me. We all but dashed to the bathroom upstairs. I couldn't shake the butterflies, the nausea, the accelerated heart. Slamming the door, I glared at Aile.

"Ah, Heavens, I can smell him on you. Mm."

"Aile! Ch'at was him! He'll ravish me on my own land." I gave up on trying to keep cool. That brief touching we had done was enough to send me into a fever. I literally had tingles from where he touched me.

"Two things. One, ravishing would be a good thing when it comes to guys like him. Two, this technically isn't our land yet." She was sniffing my dress, her smile lingering, her hands skimming over my skin. "Tell me you're not flushed by this and you'll be lying. You temperature heats by the second. You should be happy this will happen."

"I'm scared!"

"Because you're a virgin." She petted my head. "Just, relax. I'll sit with you at the table. Unless the seat beside him is open, then I'll be sitting there."

She definitely did -not- sit beside me. No, we had to sit by familiars. In that case, I took up the spot by my dad, Aile on the other side of him, her parents beside her. The rest were tribe leaders in which I had to meet -after- the buying of the land was settled. I still found it stupid that we had to consult with so many officials all because the land was vast.

Mr. Mysterious sat a good distance down the long table of people. He looked rather uncomfortable, his eyes looking this way and that at each moment. Something in the way he sat, posture straight, tension surrrounding him, told me he was uncomfortable here, as though he knew a bunch of soul sucking demons surronded him. The others, the major, a greying man, and his posy occupied the other half of the table.

Minute after minute was passing. It was kind of awkward when the food was served by the servants; no one talked to the other, unless it was their buddy beside them. Therefore, when Aile text me, I wasn't surprised she didn't speak aloud.

Aile: Ur lover is eying u ;)

I text her back.

Aile: That was just mean

I smiled, then frowned when I realized he -was- watching me. Aile must have seen interest. I saw murder. Had I did something to him? Averting my eyes, I retreated to looking at my dad. But he was talking to the man across the table in a hushed tone about the division of the land once bought.

I looked over at Aile, but she was talking to her mom. Looking at the woman, I automatically thought about my own mom, how I wished she were here today―protecting me even. I may have been twenty-three, but I felt like a child in this situation. A man had set out to rape me, and he had smiled about it.

I stood up, excusing myself in what seemed to be like excusing myself after passing gas or something with the way these people looked at me. I mean, really, why give me a death glare when they weren't even talking? I wasn't disrupting anything.

Ignoring them, I made my way inside of the green house, locked the door, reset the timer so it didn't shower on me, and sank down hard on the bench. The smell of earth comforted me as usual, plants on every turn. I just needed to -think.- Nothing else mattered. I wasn't going to get raped. Maybe I just had a vision of a dream and was overreacting like Aile said. Maybe I should have told my father. Maybe I should have stayed home and played sick.

I began pulling the pins from my hair, silk falling around me in bundles. I couldn't find it in me to go back to the hall, knowing the man was there, waiting to fulfill my vision. Besides, they were being pricks, all of them formal and boring.

Only when I began plucking at a leaf from one of the plant's leaves did I freeze. I looked around. It was dark in this room, rows of plants lining here and there, hung on the wall, vines sprouting where dirt wasn't even found. I looked at the wooden table. I was on my feet in an instant, gathering my hair to tie in a knot and leave.

"Ditching the meeting, are you?"

With a start, I whipped my head towards the door. The lock was still in place. "How did you come in?" I met his eyes in the dim lit room. The stark blue appealed to me once again. Not only that, if you overlooked his scary size and ropes of muscles, he was something one could gaze at as long as they felt. A lazy smile rested on his face, his eyes wandering over me. In his hand was two wine glasses and a bottle of wine that must have come from the dinning room.

He slid in beside me, our shoulders touching, his head turned downward towards me. "Quite an accent you got there," he said, his voice like a purr, vocal cords of a heavenly violin strung perfectly, playing a deep melody. "As long as we're taking our hair down," he said, looking over my pins. He took his hair out of the hold it was in. It pooled over his features, down his broad shoulders that kept brushing me with every movement Under a deep inspection, I noticed the prickly stubble growing around his chin.

Averting my eyes, I blushed scarlet. He was sexy. And Aile was right about that smell he sported. Like ocean's scent bottled in a cologne bottle and sprayed just the right amount of times to sooth my mind.

He set the wine glasses on the table. "Thought you might like a drink. You seemed troubled back there."

I held back the urge to roll my eyes. I was too sick to put up a front anyway. That spinning was increasing with every thought I had of that vision. The glass. . . He of all people seemed troubled and even moreso unsettled back there. Still, nothing witty came from me. "I know."

"Not the talker, I suppose." He shrugged and poured us both wine almost up to the rim. Nodding his glass in my direction, he took a small sip and smiled, causing me to scrowl. "Sweet―strong."

I kept my mouth shut. I wasn't a fan of being rude, but being sexual bothered wasn't an alternative. Therefore, I downed my wine, licked the stray droplet and stood. "I'ch was nice ch'laking to you. Will converse more perhaps lafer―lacher―la'cher." I groan beneath my breath and stand, gripping my wine glass for strength before setting it down and looking to the door. Preparing my escape.

"Sit. Down."

I plopped down on the seat faster than I could summon a thought to save me. Gone was the sleek, small talk tone and in its place was was simply a deep, authoritative voice. Words that left a chill down my spine, the same, day old fear shimmering on the surface of my skin.

Tentatively I gazed over at the man―

His lips caught mine, his hand instantly snaking out and twining in my hair, anchoring my head until he had better leverage to slide his tongue deep into my mouth. My sound of protest was gurgled, his lips so forceful my amateur tongue had no choice but to fall into rhythm with his demanding one. He tasted as good as he smelled, and this I knew because everything he gave, I swallowed, in a way longing for air, but instead taking in his his pants, his breaths.