Cam Malone (subsumed) wrote in shadows_rpg, @ 2018-08-17 17:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | #november 2017, cameron |
Cold Forever
Who: Cameron
When: Thursday, November 9th, 1:14 p.m.
Where: St. Dismas
Warnings: R (disturbing behavior, dark thoughts)
Cam had been in a strange state of mind ever since finding out about Sadie’s death. Stranger than usual, and that was saying something. He’d been sleeping in fits and starts, waking from dreams that to anyone else would have been nightmares, but to him they were diverting and almost unbearably arousing. He’d heard that Sadie had supposedly been savaged by a wild animal of some sort, her throat torn out, and in school he’d played the appropriately somber star athlete, who of course would be grieved about the cheerleading coach and history teacher being killed. When he was alone, he felt much differently.
What nobody understood about Cam Malone was that he didn’t have the capacity to truly care about anyone but himself. He could talk a good game and work up perfect expressions of sorrow, concern, affection. Inside it was another matter entirely. People were important to Cam for what they could do for him, what they could give him, how they could make him feel. Nothing else. He couldn’t have said he cared that Sadie was dead save for the realization that she could no longer give him hot forbidden sex.
The current issue was that he had to see it. See her. He knew that the funeral was today at St. Dismas, and he’d cut school, staying in bed until ten and then dressing in a sweatsuit with a hood. He’d driven to the street one over from the church and parked his highly recognizable car as out of sight as he could before lurking around the building. It was unlocked, making his task easier. The interminable waiting didn’t concern him, because his own personal mind movies could always keep him entertained. The funeral would be held in the sanctuary, and Cam hid himself behind the door that led to the baptistry area, leaving it cracked so he could watch.
It was right at 1 p.m. when he heard noises outside: car doors opening and closing, voices, the sound of wheels rolling. Several men rolled in the casket and arranged it at the front of the church, then brought in flowers: standing flower sprays, a wreath, a couple of baskets of peace lilies, a dish garden. He was familiar with the types from his sister’s funeral and other funerals he’d attended. They made short work of it, and soon he heard the vehicle leaving. Quiet descended again, and Cam peeked out of the crack to see a closed casket standing beneath a dim pool of light. The rest of the church was dark, but he knew that would change soon enough when the family arrived.
Now was the time to act if he was going to do this. Cam slipped out of his hiding spot and moved to stand before the casket. His cheeks were flushed and his heartbeat fast as he felt around the lid, seeing if it would lift or if he’d have to unfasten it. It opened easily, and he lifted it up, making a soft sound under his breath as he saw her. Pale, her blonde hair combed and arranged neatly, dressed in a plain, round-necked shirt or gown-- because nobody was supposed to see her, so what did it matter? Her neck was laddered with what would have been deep, gory slits had they not been stitched together, and so was her face. Standing there, regarding the damage, Cam became painfully hard, and his most vivid dream about her came to mind: They were running through the woods, Sadie desperately bent on escape and Cam chasing her. He was hunched over, somehow larger than his actual body mass, his eyes a startling near-amber. There were fangs in his mouth. He put on a burst of speed and caught her, knocking her hard to the ground, rolling her over. She was screaming, and all around them in the air was the scent of acrid sweat and fear. Then somehow they were both naked, and as he plunged his implacably hard cock into her, he ripped out her throat with his teeth.
Cam reached out to touch her cheek, hesitating and then turning his hand over to brush it with the backs of his fingers. Cold, like a statue. The cold of river beds, of ocean depths too deep for sound, of black ice. Cold forever.
Outside there was the sound of a car pulling to a halt in front of the building, and Cam’s instincts kicked in. Quietly, carefully, he shut the coffin lid and took off for the back hallway. If anyone caught him back there, he’d say he was looking for the restroom, and he’d slip out the back door and run to his car. He had a while before he’d have to shower and dress for the funeral, and maybe he’d indulge himself in some very pleasurable daydreams.