Bane (Part 4 - Strangers)

Bane sat on the thinly padded mattress, the best one in the crappy little inn according to the talkative older woman who owned it. 1

“You'll sleep wonderfully,” she'd promised, and he'd nodded, wishing she'd just go away. She was nice enough, not very interesting to him, but she definitely didn't deserve what would happen if she managed to get him angry.2

'Bullshit,' he thought to himself, thinking the mattress was doing a better job of bruising his ass than making him sleepy. Still, he was in a good mood, and the spirits he'd drank kept the room swirling slowly around in his vision. 3

He closed his eyes, and kept seeing his odd drinking buddy from downstairs. He couldn't quite place what was so strange about the guy, and it frustrated him. He tried his best to avoid people, and usually they tended to avoid him, as if sensing that he was definitely someone they didn't want to mess with. That had been enough in the past.4

When he'd spotted the clueless young man, completely unaware of the cutthroat sneaking up behind him until too late, he'd acted. It was one of those rare moments where his desire to do the 'right' thing converged with his darker, violent urges. It had felt so good to kill the thief, and for once he'd had a good reason to justify the evil deed. He had meant to leave the little outpost right after, but then he saw the man clearly for the first time, and when their eyes met, something strange happened. Before he could question it, the man had fainted, and now here he was.5

Whatever was so weird about him, Bane actually liked the naïve young man. He was pleasant company, and he kept Bane's interest. In a few ways, actually.6

He had these strangely colorless grey eyes, that would look cold on anybody else, but that just made him look permanently curious. His short, scruffy brown hair would fall over the tops of his eyes while he talked, and once in a while he'd carelessly swipe it out of the way. 7

Bane laid back on the awful mattress, picturing his new friend in his head, and slowly reached towards the belt of his pants. As his hand reached his belt, and then beyond, he thought of some of the things he'd like to do to his new friend. He hadn't felt this good for a long time, and he moaned softly under his breath, losing himself in his little fantasy.8

His breathing got ragged, and the muscles of his arm tensed and relaxed as he pleased himself faster. He thought of how the innocent man's face might look contorted in pleasure, his lips parted, face flushed, looking up at him with those trusting eyes.9

Images interrupted his fantasy, sudden jarring images. He saw his friend lying in a pool of blood, his eyes open but lifeless. He saw himself laughing, his eyes burning red as he held the dagger that had killed him.10

“You'll break him,” the voice hissed in his ear, “and when he is used up, you'll kill him.”11

“I won't,” Bane whimpered, trying to banish the voice from his head.12

“You know you will, you can't help it,” the voice whispered mockingly before it faded away.13

Bane jerked his hand out of his pants abruptly, feeling sick, all thoughts of lust forgotten. He turned on his side angrily, sighing as he closed his eyes again, this time to sleep.14

“I won't,” he whispered again to himself as he drifted to sleep, but even in his dreams the voice assured him that he would.