I had smoked cigarettes for a handful of years more than I could remember. I don't know why I had started; perhaps, at the time I had felt that inducing my own death earlier than naturally intended was in my best interest. They were conversational experiences, leading people to socialize together over some tobacco and nicotine. But honestly? The conversations that existed over cigarettes sitting on porches, in garages... They were some of the most memorable and centering moments of my life. When Alexis asked why someone would want to die sooner than natural, I found myself shrugging a thoughtful shoulder, but unable to answer. I had nothing to tell the woman that wouldn't include a long, drawn out description of a past that was left thousands of miles away across the big ole pond. Would she understand my reasoning? Probably not, so I left the topic alone. She, however, gave me an intent look that suggested she might actually understand and that idea alone elicited a softer smile than I had given her before.

See? I am considerate.

"Think of it this way: enhancing your existence is a little bit more colorful than merely surviving. Perhaps a little tobacco and nicotine are additional colors, yeah?"

Although I had met the woman merely hours before, she reminded me so dearly of my sister. Submissive, strangely innocent, shy, but obviously kind... She seemed to effortlessly fit a mold that was comforting and familiar in a way that was nearly impossible to describe. Home is simply a state of mind, accepting your surroundings as out of your control and accepting whatever circumstances you were thrown in the midst of in stride. There was freedom in that. Freedom in slipping into a persona that was closest to home and closest to some kind of true identity. The intonation of her voice as she questioned my decision to drop the cigarette reminded me of Elenore so much that it made my heart clench, and shivers run up my arms. With a heavy sigh, I shook my head.

"You've dealt with enough tonight, and it seemed like it was making you uncomfortable."

The explanation was softer than before, my voice lacking the edge it had previously harbored. It became increasingly obvious that my comment about bestiality had stung her â€" I had meant it with the utmost amusement and with a genuine desire to calm her nerves. I didn't expect anything, not even a thank you for the protection and safety I offered her. Why should I? She hadn't done anything to deserve the brutal and intolerant attention of men preying on an innocent woman. And that was intolerable. My sharp words had been harsh in order to convey a sincere meaning to calm her nerves. Her smile, however, grew and it was more than endearing with the way her eyes lit up and brightened with a mischievous twinkle that I would have loved to see in action. Unfortunately, it dawned on me that that might be the last time the twinkle was evident as the voices emanated from the end of the alley behind us.

"Maybe you should save some of that mercy for later on once they've been dealt with, yeah?" I wasn't concerned, and hopefully she would understand that I had total intention of removing any threat that the men posed to her or myself. "You'll be safe at home, I can offer you that much." Without much other than a pointed look towards the direction of the house that she had described to me previously, I turned my attention to the events that might proceed. What was it I could do to distract the men? There were so many options that fit my fancy â€" I could torment them with mirages, I could manipulate the ground under their feet. And suddenly? I was in the middle of a fight I had been itching for. There was quick work to it as the men were intoxicated to a point where I could smell the alcohol on their skin from their anxious sweat. It was disgusting, and my nose wrinkled in protest as I arranged the bodies in a fashion that I could dispose of them easily. Dust to dust, right? They were merely human, and every instinct I had was satisfied by the way their hearts stopped beating.

Unfortunately for me, it was becoming a habit.

With a self inflicted disgust at the amount of satisfaction I had from the endeavor, I made my way down the street towards her house. I wove threads of illusion behind me; what I wanted others to see if anyone else had followed us. Precautions in place, I knocked quietly on Alexis' door, hoping that she wouldn't be too frightened to let me in.

It would have raised questions if the neighbors saw a man standing outside of her door with bloodied knuckles. My personal neighbors knew to ignore such occurrences, but this? I wanted to save the woman the trouble of explaining a man who arrived on her doorstep in the middle of the night, looking like he was the antagonist in every frightening bed time story that was told at a slumber party before you were old enough to think that things that go bump in the night always happened to someone else.

Until they happened to you.