This is the third in the series of Bleach Bedtime Stories, stories based on children's bedtime stories and given a very adult twist. This story is full of sex, violence, and darkness just like the main character, Hichigo. If you don't like any of these three elements, don't waste your time reading this story. There will only be two other chapters since these are simply overly long short stories. Hope you like the newest installment.

Ichigo sat in his study, alone as always. But that was his choice. Actually, it was a choice that had been made for him by circumstances beyond his control. His dusty brown eyes focused on the flames in the fireplace. Snow was falling outside, but he could not see it since he sat in a windowless room. He had made the necessary preparations. All of the shutters on the windows in the rest of the house were closed and locked. Every door that led to the outside world had been bolted shut. He was not keeping someone out. Quite the opposite. He was keeping someone in. A slick sheen of sweat coated his face and palms despite the unmistakable chill that he could not remove from the drafty old mansion. It did not matter anyway. He never got sick and the thing inside of him would not let him die. The familiar burning began in his belly. It was coming. He was coming. The demon within would claw his way to the surface tonight. He could only deny the creature buried inside of him for so long.

Ichigo could not remember when the beast had made himself known. He could no longer remember being without the darkness that lived inside of him. Why he had become this way was a pointless question he still asked himself. How he could rid himself of this intrinsic evil was a question he was afraid would never be answered. He had no idea how or why his psyche had become so splintered that he formed a completely separate personality. His second self was not just any simple defense mechanism to shield him from emotional pain. Hichigo was a separate entity entirely, so far removed from Ichigo himself he could barely believe he harbored such a creature. Hichigo: a vengeful, murderous being who killed for amusement rather than serving as a mere psychological barrier to protect his host.

A white-hot pain seared his guts making Ichigo feel as if he were being torn apart. Lurching forward, he fell out of the chair onto his knees. The agony seized his body again, sending him to all fours. He hugged his belly with one arm, pressing his forehead to the cold stones of the floor to seek some kind of relief from the discomfort that was literally eating him alive.

"No, please," he pleaded with the dark side that was slowing scratching his way out of Ichigo's core. "Please, don't do this. Don't come anymore. Leave me alone! Leave them alone!" he screamed, his voice taking on a liquid quality as if he were under water.

Hichigo had almost come.

Many times, more than he cared to remember, Ichigo had woken up doused in blood. His clothes had been soaked with the crimson liquid. His lightly tanned skin had borne the red stains that were beginning to turn brown as the blood dried. Worst of all was the metallic taste of their blood in his mouth. Only on limited occasions had he awakened next to the body of Hichigo's hapless prey. The innocent victim's dying screams and agonized wails of torture would play back in head like an endless horror movie as he had scrubbed and cleaned to rid his body of the sin Hichigo had committed. There was not enough soap in the world to clean his conscience. In the end, he knew it was him who had killed someone because he had not been able to control the evil that called his body home. His body would be sore and bruised, bearing the physical proof of the helpless person's losing battle for life. Just another reminder he did not need of the horrid misdeed.

"Why? Why are you doing this?" Ichigo cried out, begging for an answer. For the first time ever, his question would receive a reply.

In a voice that was not his own but came from deep inside of him nonetheless, he heard the repulsive explanation he would never be allowed to forget. In a deep, gravelly, gurgling voice straight from the pits of hell, he heard,"Don't lie to yourself anymore! I am you! I am acting on your deepest, darkest desires. I act on the thoughts and wishes you pretend not to have but hold deep in your heart wrapped and concealed with good intentions and pure, upstanding morals. I am doing what you won't allow yourself to do. This is your fault. You held onto these wishes so tightly that your fascination, your hunger, grew so immensely that you had to create me to act on them. Stop fooling yourself and allow me to take over. You are my king but you are weak, cowardly, and shameful. I cannot serve the one I don't respect. One day..." The voice paused, allowing Ichigo to marinate in the devastating words that had been spoken so far.

Ichigo panted, struggling for air and command of his own sensibilities. He was losing and he knew it. Staring at his hands in gape mouthed horror, he watched as he had many times before while Hichigo gradually took over. His fingernails turned black as a powdery white color like the snow outside crept up his arms destroying the healthy golden glow of his skin. Closing his eyes, he howled in agony as the blackness, the tarry black color of Hichigo's evil flooded his white sclera. The soft mahogany of his irises turned a harsh, burning yellow gold like the color of the flames he had been watching. He ran his hands through his spiky white hair that had formerly been a bright orange color. With a sinister laugh of victory, Hichigo rose to his feet to strip off the clothes his alter ego had been wearing. Being made of all that was corrupt and devoid of morals, frigid to the heart and bone without any glimmer of human compassion or mercy, the glacial temperature of the room did not bother the completely naked and exceedingly wicked being one iota. Just before he diminished Ichigo's consciousness entirely, he wanted to complete the depraved diatribe that he had paused earlier. He wanted to make that one last psychological push before overtaking his host. "One day, I will destroy you entirely. There will be no coming back for you. There will be only me."

"Wait! Noooo-" Ichigo's pathetic, outcry was ended abruptly by the demon who had fully surfaced.

A hollow, resounding banging surprised the newly arrived entity. What was that sound? Hichigo stood still, hearing only the crackling of the wood in the fireplace before the chord broke and sent sparks flying into the air. The knocking started again, reverberating down the vacuous hallway to the room where he stood alone and unclothed since he had just been rebirthed in a most literal sense. His frightening, beastly yet captivating eyes riveted on the closed door to the study.

"What is this I hear?" he asked himself before quoting one of his favorite horror stories. The story was an old, classic tale about a killer who was tormented and revisited by the ghost of one of his victims. In the end, it was not real; the ghost had only his guilty conscience gnawing at him mentally. The story amused him greatly because he himself had no such qualms and could not identify with the concept of guilt. "...suddenly there came a tapping, as of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. "'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door-Only this, and nothing more."*

"Hello! Hello? Is anyone in there?" a female voice rang out, bouncing off the stone walls of the hallway before it slammed into his brain.

"A woman. How wonderful," he purred, growing rigid with arousal. He never would have expected an innocent lamb to lead herself to the slaughter by showing up on his doorstep.

"Excuse me! Hello? I'm so sorry to bother you!" she cried out without knocking on the door again. The heavy oak door made from a two hundred year old tree was probably hurting her delicate knuckles. "I lost my way in this snow storm. I know I should not have been traveling at night...yet I was...and well...please help me."

"Poor thing," Hichigo murmured, clicking his tongue. "Poor, poor lost little lamb. I must help her." He moved with deliberateness, enjoying the sensation of the chilled air on his recently acquired body. It never ceased to amaze him how good it felt to take over this body. His hands slid over the wonderfully muscles arms, down the bulging pectorals, and over each bump and crevice of the toned abdominal muscles. He was grateful to his host for maintaining such a strong body even if he did have a weak mind. Taking his time, feeling no need to rush whatsoever, he walked upstairs to his master's bedroom to get dressed. He first put on a white dressing gown before wrapping a dark gray kimono around his body and securing it with a black obi. After putting on white wool socks, he shuffled his way back down the stone stairs to the door. He pressed his ear to the front door to listen for the woman. There was no knocking and no calls for help. However, he could hear the soft sniffles and low wails of a completely despondent woman. It sounded as if she had given up entirely, forfeiting her life to elements. There would be no need for that. He would happily take her life away for her. His golden eyes glittered with jubilant villainy as his head filled with thoughts of the violently wonderful and physically disastrous calamity he planned to unleash on the woman waiting outside.

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted- nevermore!*

*Quotes from Edgar Allan Poe's The Raven. This is one of my favorite pieces of writing of all time. Not many people appreciate the subtle terror, the gut wrenching fear these flowery words can spark in a reader's heart.