Thread: RP: Crazy In Love ( Horror_Show & Blue Hatter)

Most of the events of that night were still a blur the the young man. He had went to a party with some college buddies, which for him was something somewhat out of character, he rarely went to any such parties but for one reason or another he had decided to go. There he mingled with his friends and other party-goers, he drank a little bit, goofed around, and just overall tried to enjoy the rather noisy atmosphere, which wasn't easy, he was far from a lover of big parties. At one point he had gotten into an argument with another one of the guests, what this argument was about no one else was quite sure or even cared enough to pay attention to, and Vincent had stormed out. And as he stomped his way across the street, without even paying attention to his surroundings, he had been struck by an oncoming city bus. He had died almost immediately upon impact. But he couldn't remember any of that now. All he could remember was noise, immense pain, and then... blackness. Everything else was a blur, a mess, missing. Somehow, for some reason, he had been brought back to life by a group of self-proclaimed witches, something he had never thought existed or possible, but nonetheless there he was, alive. Or, well, at least not dead, but he couldn't really be called alive per se. His brain had ceased function for far too long leading to an immense loss of memory and even some motor function. He was, in a sense, Frankenstein's monster, cobbled together from bits and pieces of flesh, bone and muscle, some not even his, and his body showed evidence of the gruesome scars where he had been stitched back together, scars that not yet healed and, considering that he wasn't truly alive, so to speak, the scars would take quite some time to heal, if they ever did. His heart was not working, his blood was not pumping, so his body was cold to the touch and his movements were slow and sluggish. The witches had kept him for a while, some to experiment and observe, but they also helped him regain some of his functions. It had been a slow process but after some time he could finally walk again, he could move about on his own, think on his own, interact with the world, but he could not speak, not yet, thanks to the large slash across his throat that had severed his vocal chords. The cut had been sloppily stitched back together-- these girls were witches, after all, not surgeons-- but his vocal chords were still in tatters. They had healed somewhat, and he could utter a few low grunts and groans to express himself, which was encouraging, all things considered. Thanks to a bit of witchly magic his flesh would not rot, not for a while, anyway, and this same magic was keeping him function, it was keeping him alive. It also took quite some time before he began to finally regain some of his memories. His short term memory was gone, he still couldn't remember anything about the night that he had died or even anything from the weeks before it, but he did, over time, regain some of his stronger memories, memories that had been burned into his brain and would always be part of him, mainly his family-- his mother and sister-- and his home, what he had been doing to help them, and what his mother had been doing to him. He remembered some other things, too... Love, fear, anger, hatred, jealousy, lust and greed. Sentiments that most mortals would take for granted but for him to remember such things were quite a step. It wasn't long after this that the witches began to debate what to do with him. It was unlikely he could ever be reintroduced into normal society, and if he was he would probably become nothing more than a science experiment in someone's lab, not to mention that it would put the witches in great danger if anyone found out about them. But one of the witches believed that he should go back to his family, if even just temporarily, despite the risks. It took some convincing but the others finally agreed. Vincent, however, wasn't so sure that it was such a good idea. Nonetheless he had been returned to his home, though he had been dead for so long than he wasn't sure if he could really even consider the place home anymore. The path up the stairs and to the front door was a familiar one to him, as was the house key hidden under the third rock to the right under a bush, and he quietly opened the door and slipped inside. He gave the witches one last look, debating if he should just leave now and forget about this silly endeavor, but instead he closed the front door and moments later he heard the car speed off. Seeing as mother passed out on the couch was of no surprise to him, it was a rather usual sight, he recalled, especially after she made him do what she did, after she would force him into her bed each night and screw him until the drugs took over and she collapsed on him. What was even worse was the fact that he actually found pleasure in the sex with his mother, she had almost conditioned him to her, and even know he could feel his manhood beginning to stiffen under his jeans at the very sight of his mother, and he felt disgusted by it. Perhaps he really was no better than she was. Maybe he was just as disgusting as she was. But as horrid as his mother made him feel, as did his own conditioned urges, there was one bright light at the end of his otherwise bleak and lonely tunnel his sister, Chloe. He adored her, he always had, and in life he would have done anything for her. In death, well, he wasn't entirely sure if there was anything he could do for her, but she was the reason he was here now, she was the reason he didn't run away. And now he stood before her after revealing himself to her and being discovered by their mother. She was against the front door, pushed there by him perhaps a bit too forcefully-- he still hadn't fully regained control of his body, he still couldn't entirely control his strength and sometimes he would use too much or not enough without meaning to-- and he held her there, gazing into her eyes with a hungry but sorrowful look. It... o-okay... he managed to hiss out from his broken vocal chords. Don't... af'aid...