blood and incense

content warning for: sex, mention of self harm, mention and reference to drug use, mention of mental health institutions, religious iconography and references, stabbing, and cannibalism

on the day that lilith killed me, i burned the last stick of the incense she had bought me.

when she first moved in, she hated the smoky perfume of the lavender scent i typically preferred, but i still lit it in the apartment like an asshole. a week after we started having sex, she complained that my room was so saturated with the scent, i'd have to spend days airing it out and washing my sheets before i got her in my bed again. so i did.

then, for my last birthday, months after we had started fucking, she bought me a box of incense, said it was at least a smell she could tolerate. it was some sort of citrusy, woody scent that felt somewhat familiar in the back of my throat, though i couldn't place it.

two weeks later, i told lilith i loved her. i remember she smiled so wide that i could see her canines, a flash of sharp white before she pressed her lips to mine, to my neck, to my chest, to my stomach. i guess i had lit that new incense earlier because the smoke from it nearly choked me as she ate me out. both had me seeing stars like angels flashing behind my eyes. when we were done, she lit a new stick and we layed in bed watching the smoke tendrils climb to the heavens.

i had never loved anyone or anything like i loved lilith. for all the bodies that had been in my bed and the drugs i'd let race through my blood, nothing compared to the way she looked at me, like i was something worthy. like i was something to be worshiped. i'm sure i looked back at her the very same way.

lilith and i had talked about our pasts early when we had moved in together. we talked about the good, but mostly the bad. i had told her about my stints in the psych ward and the rehab center before i was 18, how i was mostly over it now, at 23. She had told me about her church. or at least she mentioned it. i understood. i had been raised catholic until i refused to get confirmed at 15. i was fresh from inpatient at that point and my mom didn't want to push for fear i'd try to open up another vein, so she left it alone. lilith had smiled in that way she used to before she really knew me, all tense and forced, as she said she'd also never been confirmed; the women in her church weren't allowed to be. i guess i figured from there that it was that life she was running from. i could hear the deep south twang in her voice, though she tried to hide it. i could see how the blue dye covering her blonde hair was fresh enough to still be staining her scalp. she had the look of someone trying to start over, which i suppose is what drew me to her in the first place.

in some ways, lilith reminded me of a church. of the light pouring through the stained glass windows and making rainbow patterns on your skin. of that savored sip of cheap red wine during communion. of the hundreds of little burning candles at the front of the building, reminding everyone who walks in that maybe, when they're gone, someone will remember them.

on the day that lilith killed me, i was sitting in my room, reading about some new game or something, when i heard her keys jingling in apartment door. i yelled out my greeting and rolled out of bed to light some incense. lilith had seemed to like it more and more as i went through the box, so i got in the habit of lighting it when she was home. i picked up the box and felt the one loose stick left in there. i'd have to ask her where she had got it and get some more. my lighter clicked as she opened my door. i smiled as i felt her arms wrap around me and watched the first bits of smoke roll out in the air. "eve," her lips were soft against the shell of my ear as she whispered, "i need your body." i remember laughing, going to turn to kiss her. i remember the knife in my stomach and the gleam of a cross on her neck. "i need your blood".

i didn't scream. i didn't scream even when she started carving away at my body like a prime cut of meat. i only whimpered, quiet and low like a dog who's been hit. i watched her bite in to my disembodied flesh as spots danced at the edge of my vision like smoke from a swinging thurible. i smiled as the smell of frankincense filled my lungs with my dying breath.