I'm sitting in the small place I share with my room mate Jonah Veverka. Outwardly we probably appear as your run of the mill punk teenagers scrounging in a swanky yet affordable apartment. Mostly likely paid for by mommy and daddy. The very thought of it makes me laugh aloud, causing Jonah to shoot me a brief glance. He's used to my random outbursts by now. We've been living together for over a year now, and associating for almost three years. Jonah's a twenty one year old manic depressive with a strange fondness for pink haired psychopaths. Not that he knew I was a psycho when we met each other. He was your typical wandering runaway, sleeping in homeless shelters or parks...the latter being where I found him. We struck up an unusually natural conversation. Even more unusual, I didn't feel the overwhelming blood lust I normally felt around mortals. Something about this blue eyed, faux hawked, damaged breather struck a unknown chord in me. In no time I had developed something I hadn't experience for over thirty years. Friendship.
It was purely accidental and abundantly comical how he came into knowledge of my...non human state. He came upon me wandering at our usual haunt in the park. I was in an erratic mindset, having just executed a group of beatniks with creative use from a couple heavy duty staplers and a flat iron. I couldn't decipher the odd looks Jonah was giving me until he brought me to the park's pond. Glancing at my rippling reflection, I observed the copious bloodstains on my face and clothes. "Heh heh...whoops...how'd I miss that?" Before I could catch myself I was discoursing an analysis of my earlier murderous foray. Halfway through my recollections, lucidity returned. In a spurious decision, I divulged a few details about my undead status, figuring I could just kill the kid afterwards. Much to my surprise, he accepted my story with a grim compassion. Jonah was a firm follower of the supernatural, and as I later found out, not all that mentally stable himself. So our friendship forged a stronger, albeit queer bond. One thing led to another, and with my illicit aptitude of acquiring funds, we bunked down in our quaint little abode.
Jonah's glaring at his prescription like it's personally offended him. He shakes the pill bottle with a oppressive frown. "I'm sick of taking this crap." He grouses, tossing the bottle onto the table.
"Be glad you have something that can control the...crap." I respond. "Some of us ain't that lucky."
Crossing his arms and staring at me, he retorts: "Well, you know. Maybe it wouldn't be so awful if you had someone by your side to help you through the badness."
I scoff at his words. "Oh, ok. By all means, stick around next time I lose it. I'm sure it'll be quite a show for the few minutes before I tear you to shreds in a frenzy."
He rolls his eyes. "I don't mean by your side like.." he gestures to himself. "..this." "I mean, if I was less fragile. Like...you?"
The fire of this old argument is flickering and I can feel my temper trying to get the best of me. Unconsciously I stalk into the kitchen, putting space between us before I reply. "Like me, Jonah? Like me? How many times do we need to have this conversation? I didn't want this. I NEVER wanted to be like this, and I SURE AS HELL am never gonna do this to someone else!" I unclench my hands and place them flat on the counter. The recurring argument is putting me on edge. "Let's just...just drop the subject. This isn't even a consideration. Conversation closed."
I sense him mentally backpedaling, knowing he brought up a sore subject. "Ok. White flag. I give up. Jeez, Maddie...lighten up a little."
I glare at him. "Don't...call me that." My father's voice, long dead, echoes in my ears. His Maddie. A simple nickname, but always used with love. Spoken with such a caring context. No one is ever going to care for me enough to use that nickname. Not the way I am now.
Jonah raises his hands in surrender. "Sorry, sorry. I forgot. Don't...heh..bite my head off." I give him a withering look but a twitch of a smile crosses my face. Slowly we ease back into normal chit chat. The tension in the air dissolving as I reign in my aggravation. I know he's still harping on the idea of me turning him. He always is. The boy can't see what a awful idea that would be. Then again, how could he. He didn't go through...I derail that train of thought. I'll never pass on this curse. This. The madness. The memories. It'll die with me. I'm still brooding over the negative when I turn in for the day.
I wake up as the sun sinks under the horizon. The faintest scent of blood tinges the air. With a deep inhale I pinpoint the blood as my own. Briefly perplexed, I shrug it off. Probably scratched myself during one of my nightmares. The house is empty, and my face darkens at that revelation. He's probably pissed at me. I sigh. He'll get over it. He's a good kid. One day he'll figure out I'm actually doing him a kindness by not turning him into a undead lunatic. I catch another whiff of my vitae and it awakens the inevitable hunger. Guess it's dinner time.
I return to our apartment, gorged as usual. Overindulging helps with the whole, not eating my roommate thing. Jonah's home. I halt a few steps into the living room. My head cocks to the side as I breath in his scent. He smells...different. The faintest scent of...my blood. What the? I sniff again. No. There's no way. He's sitting on the couch, peering at me over a book. His eyes don't belie any emotion. I stare at him, concentrating on his aura. His normal rich blue is churning with tar like swirls of black. Shame. Fear. My steady gaze unnerves him, and the black swirls spin nauseatingly. "Jonah. What...what did you do?!" He looks at me guiltily but doesn't answer. "Godamn it Jonah, answer me!" His response is instantaneous. "I took some of your blood while you were sleeping." His honesty knocks me for a loop. I angrily run a hand through my hair, exasperated. "What!? Why would you..." He starts to approach me and I hold up my hand. "Stop! Just...stay back." Again, his response is instant. He heels like a well trained dog and I feel my stomach turn. This isn't what I want. A pet. A slave. The very thought sickens me. A purple haze of loyalty seeps into his aura. Loyalty to me. I avert my eyes. Why did he do this? He's made himself into my...ghoul. "Please, can't I explain? I sink down to the carpet, clutching my head. "Yeah. Yeah, Jonah, Why don't you explain. Explain...what the FUCK you did and why." I feel him attempt to move closer again and I snap: "And for the love of...just STAY over there!" His voice drones through my ears, waxing and waning like the moon. His reasoning...it doesn't even matter does it? He stole my blood! Betrayed my wishes for his own selfish wanting. A fucking thief. I told him...I TOLD HIM. He betrayed me. BETRAYED ME. I feel malicious anger trying to take control. My hands clench into fists, wanting to hurt. Hurt him for being like every other waste of a soul. I bounce up to my feet and stalk towards the door. I've got to get out of here before I do something I'll regret. While I still can. While I would still regret it. I hear Jonah shout after me, his voice tinged with hurt. I'm out of the building and darting out into the woods before he even finished his outcry.
I don't slip into an episode, much to my surprise. Hunkering down under a tree, I try to rationalize through the situation. For as long as I've known Jonah, I've known he's been unhappy. The mood stabilizers he gets from the clinic barely put a hamper on the depression. I've felt it, even through my own mental issues. The kid's had reason enough to be depressed. Ran away from his abusive mother five years ago, on his own ever since. Well, at least until he met me. How a manic depressive 21 year old could possibly find solace in a 48 year old perpetually teenage lunatic is beyond me. The only thing more mind boggling is the fact that I manage to reciprocate at least a facsimile of affection towards him. It's hard to NOT care about someone who finds out that not only are you a walking corpse, but you're also clinically insane and enjoy slicing people up for shits and giggles...and still seeks out your presence. Even with the burdening threat that any minute I could snap and turn him into a human pincushion. I guess it's a sign of my fortified self control that we've sustained a carnage-free friendship thus far. I shake my head, trying to clear the inane thoughts. I need some outsider advice on this one.
Pinpointing the closest empty house on the block, I make quick work of letting myself in. These people are so trustworthy, leave their doors unlocked so any old creep can get in. I snort, and set eyes on what I'm looking for. Picking up the phone, I dial a number by heart. A man picks up after a few rings. "Pullman, here."
I clear my throat. "Hey, Nick. It's uh...it's Madelyn. Remember you said to call if I need anything?" Cutting to the chase, I blurt out: "What can you tell me about ghouls?" For nearly an hour, he educates me on the effect of Kindred blood on mortals. Despite the amusement in his voice, he expresses concern. I dissuade his offer of help. I'll accept a little Cainite knowledge here and there, but draw the line at any tangible assistance. Thanking Nick, I disconnect the line. Knowing I've avoided the inevitable long enough, I head back to Jonah and I's apartment.
I enter quietly, and proceed to Jonah's room. He sits cross legged on the bed, looking at me expectantly. The silent stare down continues for a few moments before he caves in and speaks. "Listen, Mad. I'm...sorry. I mean, I'm not. Because, well.." He let's out a weird laugh and shrugs his shoulders. "But I'm sorry I did this against your wishes. I was in a bad state of mind after you went to sleep for the day. I got a little drunk...and a got a little irrational. Honestly, I thought you would wake up before I even got to, well, you know."
"Before I woke up and slapped the shit out of you for attempting a stunt like this?"
He tries to look ashamed and fails. "I didn't even think anything would happen. I knew it wouldn't turn me into a vampire or anything. I just..I fucked up."
I flutter my hand at him. "I get it, J. It's...y'know, let's just forget this happened. It's a fluke, whatever."
He looks at me skeptically, but then smiles. "Really?" I shoot him a look and he laughs. "Ok, ok! I won't take it for granted."
November of 1986
"Madelyn. Mad. C'mon! I only need a little bit! I feel like I'm cracking up..." Jonah's voice wavers with desperation. In the past three months his normally calm demeanor has taken a drastic turn for the worse. I thought it would be easy enough to wean him off my blood. He started to get harrowed a month after our last argument and the preceding blood theft. Against my better judgement, I relented and gave him another supplemental drink. Not the first mistake I've made, and I'm sure it won't be the last. "Please. Just one more, what can it hurt?" I grit my teeth and turn from him, agitated and more than a little bit worried. He grabs my arm brusquely, despite my growl of warning.
"Jonah. Get...your fucking hand off me. Now." He holds on a second too long, uncharacteristically smirking at me. Testing my patience. "Jonah..."
He blinks, releasing his grip and seeming to come back into himself. "I'm sorry, Mad. I don't know what the hell is up with me. My brain's been.." He rubs his face in a eerily familiar way. When he pulls his hands away, he looks despondent. "I'm gonna go lay down or something. Try to get my head back on straight." He gives me a half hearted smile before wandering back to his room, after a moment I hear his door slam. Fuck. He's losing it. This is my damn fault. I never should of let him have my blood. No, I never should of introduced myself into his life in the first place. I'm like the embodiment of a human wrecking ball.
I head towards my bedroom, passing the bathroom. The cabinet above the sink stands open a bit. The sight of it sets me on edge for some reason. I push it closed and happen to glance into the wastebasket. Hidden under a thin layer of refuse, I find Jonah's prescriptions; mood stabilizers and anti depressants, still full from his last refill. I set them on the sink and stare at the bottles. Shit. No wonder he's so haggard. This, on top of the whole ghouling situation. I slam my fist on the porcelain. Shit. In a heart beat, I'm outside his bedroom door. My hand is poised to knock when the smell hits me. SHIT! I push the door open. It swings into the wall, gouging a hole in the plaster with the knob. I don't even notice. Jonah's sitting on the floor, a straight razor glinting red on the floor next to him. Thin streams of blood flow from the self inflicted wounds running up both arms. The smell of fresh vitae makes my head spin. I shake it off and take a step towards him. "What the hell are you doing?! Have you lost your mind Jonah?!" I speak figuratively but when he meets my eyes I see that's exactly what has happened. Oh god.
"Mad, I can't do this. Everything's so... I knew this would get your attention!" He holds his bleeding arms out towards me.
I recoil, despite the mouth watering smell wafting from his veins. "Let me...let me get you something the wrap that with. And your meds. You need to take your meds, ok? You'll be alright." I start to back out of the room. Jonah scrambles up, stumbling into me. I catch him before he falls back down. His blood seeps into my shirt, hot and moist. I clench my jaw, turning my face away. "Jonah, please. You've gotta...I can't...please sit and let me get you a towel." The smell of his blood is burning a path through my self control.
"No! This is what I want!" Crazed, he forces his arm near my face, smearing my mouth with precious fluid. Aghast, I push him away. He lands on his bed with a thump. Frantically wiping my mouth, I try to remove the invading taste. Jonah picks up the razor from the floor, pointing the blade at me. "God DAMN it, Madelyn! JUST TURN ME! You can teach me and...help me!"
"Turning you won't help anything, you fool! Threatening me isn't going to change my mind. It's never going to happen and you know it!" Stress and hunger pushing my temper over the edge.No! I'm stronger than this damn it! I won't...eat...my only friend. "You pull this fucking trick...what's this proving, Jonah? You think being embraced will solve your problems? Did it solve mine? You think you're crazy now...have a taste of what crazy REALLY is!"
Eyes locked on his, I send an onslaught of memories into his mind. My memories, blistering with pain and terror. Oh my god, what am I doing?! I halt, disgusted with myself. Our minds still connected, I can hear his thoughts churning into mine. Please stop. Please. Maddie, it's horrible. Please. I can't take it. Stop. Stop stop stop. I try to break the telepathic connection. Can't...I hear him screaming but can't tell if it's out loud or in our heads. My brain is fatigued beyond rescue. I can't even react when Jonah turns the razor back in his own direction. He presses the blade against his throat and slashes deep, ear to ear. The blood spurts out in a gush. He falls back against the mattress, gasping wetly and choking. I drop to my knees, eyes still on him. His thoughts scream at my erratically. Please, don't let me die. Turn me, Mad. Turn me. I didn't want to die. I don't want to die. And I can't...move. I just stare as my friend bleeds out. His clothes are soaked with red. Soon the bed is, too. The smell is everywhere. I hear his last breath. The last desperate thump of his heart. Still staring. His eyes stare back at me, but he's not in there anymore. I'm still in the same spot when the sun starts to rise. Moving for the first time in hours, I scramble into the closet, slamming the door shut and curling into the detritus on the floor.
When I wake up again, I feel different. Shut off. I walk out of the closet calmly. Not sparing a glance to the body. I grab a bag from my room, stuffing a few essential items in it. I leave the apartment and within the hour I'm on a bus. Don't know where I'm going. Don't really care. I don't, do I? I close my eyes, willing myself into a callous calm I build a wall up. It's when the last brick is in place I hear his voice again. The hiss in my mind. Good girl. Good monster...
No comments:
Post a Comment