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He hated men, every part of them. Their loud, crude ways. Their pungent stink, forcing its way through the air. The way they'd stare at a young girl as she walked past the street, calling out to her. Their laughs as she'd look around, a deer trapped by its pray, running away up the street. He hated what he could see scrawled across their ugly faces, ready and excited to ruin the innocence of the world. But most of all he hated the small (large really) part of him that was like them. That thought worse, that did worse. It was the part of him he wanted to tear out and kill, to wrap his hands around its neck while it struggled until slowly, slowly its fighting got weaker. Until it stopped moving at all. It was the part of him he had to keep in check, to be aware of. As much as he wanted to give into it.
It was the part of him that screamed inside his head the first time he saw her, begging for him to give in. She was an angel, perfect and too pure for this world. Her face was pale and open, still slightly round from childhood. Her dark brown hair fell it soft waves and he could picture her hoping out of the shower, skin still damp from the water, brushing it out every night. Her navy dress was modest and yet his breath still caught while he watched her, imagining what lie beneath. Her perfume, roses and lilies, swam around the air, suffocating him and lingering in his nose long after their meeting. He almost didn't dare to breath. And yet he couldn't help himself, soaking in every part of her essence. He felt drunk. And angry.
He wasn't the only one who noticed he'd, and he could see their stares as she walked along, unaware. He didn't have to be a mind reader to know what they were thinking. The rage bubbled up inside of him, overfilling. How dare they? Didn't they know, couldn't they tell, that she belonged to him? It was clear to see they were meant to be together. She was made for him. He felt dirty knowing other men were watching her. Thinking about her. He couldn't handle it.
She didn't have to see any of this, she couldn't know how vile the world and the men in it really were. And so he waited until she was gone, far away and then he watched them right back. There was five of them, the loudest and the worst. Yelling and clapping at all the girls that passed, joking and laughing with each other. Passing around a small bottle that only made them louder. It wasn't long before the sun began to dip below the skyline and the streets started to empty. Far away stars began to shine but a thick cloud covered them and the only light seen was streetlamps and the second-hand glow from windows.
Soon it was just them and he. But it didn't feel right, not yet. Patience was the key, that's what he always told himself. Patience. And so he followed them as they moved around, walking in the shadows and staying a block behind. They stopped a woman as she went by, greeting her with familiarity. He stepped deeper into the dark, letting the shadows cover him. Clearly, it was not yet time.
He turned his back and stared through the fog, up to the stars while the woman cried. He thought of her, the one he had seen before. She was so perfect, so wonderful. She would never succumb to a man like the others had. It was easy to block out the screams, the grunts, and the moans while he thought of her. She was too precious for the world. That's why he had to do what he would, stop those men and all others from hurting her. Then she could be safe forever.
And she would be on his debt, eternally.
He waited till the noises stopped then came out from behind the wall and started to follow the men. It was nearly time, he could feel it. The universe was urging him to do it, to right the wrongs of the world. He walked past the woman they'd taken, lying in the gutter now with her blonde hair dirty and matted. He could see the slight curve in her stomach, and yet it was an engagement ring, not a wedding ring, that wrapped around her finger. No wonder she ended up dying in a gutter, it was only right. It was women like her who would try to corrupt and influence the one he loved, who would try and ruin her. They were just jealous of her perfection, her beauty and pureness.
He ignored the blonde and crept closer and closer to the men, ready to attack. The small part of him leaned forward, itching to be released. It wasn't much of a fight, they were drunk enough that they were practically falling over anyway. It didn't matter though, that small part of him was still satisfied. Still laughing at their cries, their pleas for mercy. He felt drunk, delirious as he sliced through their necks, feeling the warm blood gushing over his hands, cleaning away his sins. He was strong, he was powerful, a god among men. He wiped the sweat from his brow, leaving a smudge of red on his face. For hours he stood over them, staring at their dead bodies as they slowly lost their colour and their warmth.
Too soon his fun was over and he returned home, soaking himself in hot water to get the blood of his body. No one could see it anymore, but the blood of those men and many before them stained his hands, his skin. Steam rose from the water, leaving the room in a thick foggy haze he could barely see through. His hands, possessed by the evil evil part of him, took over and moved down his body, faster and faster. He groaned, imagines of the night flashing through his head. Their weak, limp bodies crumbling as they hit the ground. The last gasps, caught and trapped in their throats forever. His heart was beating through his chest, his breaths quick and heavy. Their eyes slowly losing light as the fought to keep them open. A hopeless, worthless battle. One they would never win. He tightened his grip, the pleasure feeling so close to pain. Heavy breathing as it all came to an end. Him and them. The smell of blood and death wrapping around him like an old friend. He bite his tongue, hard, blood filling his mouth. Metallic and sharp. And images of her, walking through the streets sweet and unaware. She needed him, needed her to protect her. He gripped the edge of the bath while he came, euphoria pulsing through him. The water had turned cold long ago but he remained in it as he his breath slowed and he returned back to normal.
Euphoria and happiness turned to hatred and disgust. It was that small part of him again, the part of him that was like all the rest. He was betraying her, and himself. He let himself sink below the water until his lungs began to scream. He'd have to go again tonight, find some way to balance the scales. Many evil men littered the streets, he just had to find them. And perhaps he would see her again, remind himself what all this was for. Why he had to resist the monster in his own head.