Heartbeat (Morta Fox Book 1)

by D. N. Hoxa

  Tears fell from my eyes, even when my face felt like it was stuck expressionless. I saw the wall soon, and I knew that I was probably moving way too fast to be seen. Plus it was dark. Though there were people outside their homes like they shouldn’t have been, they’d never see me.

  But me? I saw everything. And if I concentrated hard enough, I could hear the conversation of people almost twenty feet away.

  On the face of the wall, I didn’t slow down. When I was close enough, I jumped, and my hands grabbed onto the edges of the holes I’d used to climb down.

  But now, going up felt like a walk in the park. And when I reached the top, I didn’t think. I jumped again.

  It was no surprise that I landed on my feet. I’d planned on it. Around me, I saw everything, though there was no light.

  I was going to get whiskey first, and then I was going to find a gun and blow my brains out. I’d seen people in the movies do it.

  Put barrel inside mouth, squeeze trigger. Done.

  Before I could run my way to Norm’s joint, I heard three heartbeats, and they froze me in place.

  “Look at what fell from the sky!”

  A guy said as he walked towards me with two others in tow. Human, all three of them, with delicious blood under their skins that were almost entirely covered with tattoos.

  “Do you have a gun?” I asked them. They laughed, delighted by my attitude. I wanted to tell them to back the hell off, because I was already daydreaming of the second my teeth would sink into their flesh, but I didn’t think that would help.

  “Of course we do, honey. I got a big one, right here. For you,” the second guy said. I could see his face so clearly that I was willing to bet he’d cried just a couple of hours ago. I had no idea how, but I just knew.

  I rolled my eyes but I couldn’t blame them. I was a young girl, dressed in a white robe, all alone. I probably looked scared to them, too. If my Lord hadn’t turned me, I definitely would have been.

  “Really, I need a gun,” I said.

  “Come and get it, baby,” the first guy said and grabbed my arm. “Wow, you’re cold.” But his smile didn’t falter. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll warm you up right now.” He grabbed the back of my neck, and it was so easy! So damn easy to just let him come closer until I could tear his throat apart and drink all of his blood.

  My jaw moved. My teeth.

  Anthony said that when hungry, my teeth would double and turn sharp. I’d already seen how that looked, and I felt disgusted.

  I pushed the man back and fell a couple of steps behind.

  “What’s the matter, baby? Don’t you want me to keep you warm?”

  If he got close to me like that again, I wouldn’t have been able to help it. So I turned around, and I ran.

  They yelled and screamed after me, but I was too far gone to make out their words. They were probably freaked out by my speed, but I didn’t care. I headed straight for the Howling Building.

  I took two stairs at a time until I reached the roof, begging my mind to stop thinking about the hot blood that ran through the veins of those three men. I was scared shitless, because dangerous thoughts were beginning to take root in my mind.

  Those men wanted to rape me. Beat me, even kill me. They would have, if my Lord hadn’t turned me, because they were bad men. Which meant if I drank them dry, it wouldn’t be completely unfair or a big loss.

  Thoughts like that I needed to stay far away from.

  I jumped up to the golden cross and held onto it with one hand only. I looked at the night sky, down at the dark and filthy, silent streets of this side of the wall, and I tried to calm down.

  I heard the smell of blood each time air went through my nostrils. When I touched the tip of my tongue to my teeth, I found they were sharp as razors. For some reason, I felt like grinning. That’s until I cut my tongue with my teeth and tasted a drop of my own blood. The hunger grew wilder.

  I needed blood.

  No, I just needed food. Normal food. And whiskey. A lot of whiskey. And I knew just where to get it.

  I took a pair of cargo pants and a dirty blue shirt from the shithole I called a shelter, and I made my way down the stairs. It was the first time in my life that I wasn’t afraid to walk the streets. It was the first time I was afraid of myself, my own actions. Afraid I wouldn’t be able to control my own body and mind.

  I needed whiskey if I was going to be able to concentrate on finding a gun and blowing my brains out before I did anything stupid.

  Norman’s bar wasn’t far. I’d cleaned for him a couple of times for food, and that was the only thing I could think of to convince him to give me whiskey. I was going to tell him I’d clean his bar every morning for free for a week. Of course, I didn’t plan to be alive by then, but he didn’t have to know that.

  Or, if that didn’t work, I could always grab a bite of his neck, taste the thick warm blood in his veins that my imagination was hyperventilating over. And I had a feeling the real thing would leave my imagination to shame.

  The first wave of panic crashed on my chest. I didn’t know how I was going to get that whiskey. I was already at the door, peeking inside the small, dirty window, scared shitless. I didn’t want to think about what I could do, because I didn’t want to think about what I had become. Just like that. Poof, you’re a monster, Morta. I didn’t know how to handle that. I just needed it to be over.

  I sucked in cold air in my lungs, and I pushed the door open. The second I stepped in, the room fell silent, I knew trouble was waiting for me in there. It wasn’t like I could go back at that point, so I stepped inside and let the door shut behind me.

  I tried to keep my attention on anywhere but the sound of hearts beating and blood rushing. That and the testosterone that spread in the air almost instantly. Six people were inside, all men. All deliciously warm in the small space.

  Behind the bar was Norman, his towel hanging on his shoulder. I kept my head down and walked to him. The low music from the jukebox started again, but the men never stopped staring at me. A couple of candles here and there lit the place up since Norman was a cheap sonovabitch and wouldn’t spend the stolen electricity on light.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Norman said through gritted teeth. I decided getting right to the point would be the best way to proceed. I really needed to get out of there before I caught that thick, blue vein coming out of Norman’s chubby neck, beating fresh, warm, tasty blood that would fill me so wonderfully…

  “Whiskey. If you give me whiskey, I’ll clean up every morning for a week for free,” I spit in a hurry.

  “Whiskey? I didn’t know you had drinking problems,” Norman said.

  “Tell you what, I’ll buy you a whole bottle if you bring that sexy little ass over here.”

  The man who spoke was right behind me, stinking of alcohol. His blood all but called my name as it flowed through his veins seductively.

  “Just whiskey, Norman. Come on, it’s a fair deal. You know you don’t want me here right now.”

  “If you start a fight, I swear to you I will kick your ass myself,” Norman leaned in with his huge hands on the counter to whisper to me.

  “One bottle and I’m out until morning.”

  “You’re not taking that sweet piece of ass anywhere. It’s mine now,” another man said, drunker than the first. I knew him. I’d seen him around a couple of times, but he’d never even looked at me twice before. Now, he took the liberty to wrap his arm around my waist.

  “Norman, please.” It was getting hard to listen to the voice in my head that said I didn’t need to beg. I could get whatever the hell I wanted, because it was practically mine to take.

  Norman looked at the guys behind us, and with a frown on his face, he reached behind him for a half-filled bottle of whiskey.

  He never got to give it to me.

  The man whose arm was around my waist tried to turn me around. I felt his arousal against my ass and knew exactly what he wanted to do to me. My teeth grew sharp,
and alarms went on in my head.

  The minute I lost control, I turned, and took his arm with me. His shoulder disconnected from his torso, and his scream pierced my ears. I slapped him across the face. That was all, just a slap. I had no idea that my hand was going to tear the skin off his cheek.

  The music stopped again, and everyone fell silent, aside from a few gasps.

  Blood. Hot blood touched the tips of my fingers. I looked at it, and barely held a shiver. My hand came to my mouth on its own accord, and my fingers slipped inside.

  I never knew I could like something as much as I liked pizza. Turns out I was wrong. Blood was everything. Your favorite drink, your favorite chocolate, your favorite ice cream, your favorite cake, combined together into one sensation that took your breath away.

  I knew I had lost the battle. I could barely keep my mouth closed from my teeth. I almost smiled. The men around me looked at me the same way I’d looked at the monsters. The unconscious body in my arms was filled with blood.

  I couldn’t. I just couldn’t resist it. But somehow, by some fucking miracle, I turned to Norman and grabbed the half-filled bottle from his hand before I headed for the door with the unconscious man.

  “I’ll take out the trash,” I said, and no one tried to stop me. Except for myself and the idea that right there was the perfect spot to sink my teeth and suck every drop of blood from the man.

  I made it outside, but that’s as far as I could go. As soon as the door closed behind me, his torn face was in my mouth. My tongue wiped every drop of the blood, and I bubbled with hunger, thirst, and greed for more. It all ended when my mouth opened, almost unconsciously, the second his neck was close to it. I didn’t know what to do, but my body did.

  I felt each and every drop of the warm blood in my mouth, moving down my throat, as if I was drinking a cup filled with life and happiness and bliss. I felt it fall on the pit of my stomach, ready to burst into a thousand fireworks just for me.

  And then it stopped.

  I looked at the man in my arms, and I saw two lifeless doctors on the floor instead. Tears gathered in my eyes, and I felt my teeth go back to their normal square self.

  I was a monster. And I needed a gun.

  I put the lifeless body inside a building, though I didn’t know why I bothered. I said I was sorry through every step of the way. I didn’t know why I did that, either. He wasn’t going to hear anything. He was dead, because I’d killed him.

  I went to the other side of the same building after I left him, sat on the ground and cried. Pathetic, dirty, sick of myself—I felt that and much more.

  The bottle of whiskey was next to me, but I didn’t drink it. I didn’t think I could handle it, because I’d drank a whole man dry, but I was wrong. When I felt the heartbeat of someone walking not thirty feet away from me, I was still thirsty for his blood.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, and I tried to think of a place to get a gun, a weapon of any kind that could kill me. In the streets, I’d heard something about a guy living at the very edge of this side of the wall, who sold guns for an insane amount of food or alcohol.

  But I was tired, washed out, and I had a feeling it was because dawn was very close.

  I gathered my shattered self, and I went to the Howling Building. In the darkest corner I could find, farthest from the windows, I lay down on the cold ground and cried until darkness took me.

  III

  I felt the second the last ray of the sun disappeared behind the horizon. My eyes snapped open, and I was on my feet, all ears. You couldn’t call sleep what I’d done during the day. It was more like I had passed out, completely void of memory, dreams or anything else. Like I’d been dead during the day hours, and I came back as soon as the night fell.

  I ran so fast that I arrived at the edge of what had once been a city in half an hour. I couldn’t believe people lived there. Everything was broken and burnt, even worse than the buildings close to the wall. The stink made me want to close my nose and never inhale through my nostrils again.

  Three heartbeats in my hearing range. All in different places. Since I had no idea where the gun-guy was, I had to go check all three of them. He was the last.

  His heart beat calmly, steadily. Not old, but not young either. It was high, on the fourth floor of a brick building that had turned black where the flames had licked it. I took the rusty emergency stairs, and I climbed up as soundlessly as I could.

  On the fourth floor, the window was unbroken and closed, but it didn’t matter because through it, I saw something I liked very much.

  A gun.

  It was small, but it fired a bullet, so it would do the job.

  I went back down to try another way in. I found it easily. The main entrance.

  The place must have been a hotel once. The reception desk was in the corner of the enormous lobby that led to revolving doors, and then a set of stairs. That’s exactly where I went.

  On the fourth floor, I tried my luck with the first door. Nothing but old furniture, dust, and cracked walls.

  The white-haired man’s heart beat at the end of the hallway, so I figured I was safe from my thirst, and I tried the second door. The room behind it was filled with alcohol.

  I couldn’t help myself. I opened the whiskey bottle closest to my feet. The others were all lined perfectly on the empty wooden floor, and I drank until I couldn’t anymore.

  When the rim left my lips, I heard the heartbeat behind me.

  “Don’t move.”

  The gun I was looking for was aimed at my head. How the hell had I not felt him? Had I been so lost in the alcohol?

  It didn’t matter. This was perfect. Maybe I wouldn’t even have to kill myself. Maybe I could make him do it.

  I turned around. The pocket light in his hand turned on, and the light fell in my eyes. Other than seeing the very source of it, I didn’t even have black dots in my vision. For a second, I wondered what I would see if I looked at the sun.

  “Who the hell are you?” the man asked. His heartbeat began to go back to normal.

  “Kill me or I’ll hurt you,” I said. His lips stretched into a weak smile.

  “What the hell are you doing in my house?” He never moved the gun from my face.

  “I wanted to steal from you. Shoot me, right now, in the head, or I’ll hurt you, I swear.”

  “Steal from me?” He laughed dryly. “You wanted to steal from Ricky? You must be out of your mind.” He grinned.

  “I don’t care. I’m taking everything with me if I walk away.” His heart began to race again. Anger grew in his dark eyes, and I smiled to make it easier for him.

  His thin lips were pressed, and his eyes concentrated on my face. His finger fell on the trigger.

  I knew it was coming. I could tell by his racing pulse. I prepared mentally and didn’t move an inch.

  “Come on. Or do you want me to tell everyone how easy it is to steal from you? Want me to tell them how much of a pussy you are?”

  He fired.

  I didn’t feel it.

  I wasn’t in front of the gun barrel anymore. I was behind Ricky, and my hands were on his.

  I had no idea how I’d moved, when, or why. I hadn’t even felt my body move, but there I was.

  I cursed myself in my head a million times.

  His heart was going crazy inside his rib cage. His whole body was shaking, and he wouldn’t move. He didn’t even put the gun down. He was frozen.

  “Please…please don’t kill me,” he whispered.

  He knew what I was. This wasn’t the first time he saw a monster. I could see it in the beads of sweat that formed along his hairline. Another wave of disgust washed over me.

  I grabbed the gun from his hands fast, turned around, and ran out of the building.

  I didn’t stop. I ran the wrong way, farther away from the wall, until I was sure that there was absolutely no other breathing body for miles on all four sides of me. I crashed on a piece of broken asphalt like it was a bed. I had my gun with me
and my bottle of whiskey. I thought about a sip, but I decided on the gun instead.

  I put it inside my mouth and ignored the shouts in my head that told me to stop. To not do this. To just put the gun away.

  But how could I? I was a monster. I had to kill myself before I took someone else’s life. So why was I hesitating? Why was my finger shaking?

  I didn’t know, but I didn’t care. I put another finger above the first one on the trigger. Just a squeeze away. A small squeeze away and I would be free. The world would be left with one less monster.

  Just…another mouthful of whiskey. That done, and a couple of deep breaths later, and I put the barrel back in my mouth. This time, no stalling.

  My finger was on the trigger, my eyes squeezed shut. I didn’t feel bad. I felt happy. I felt glad that I did it, managed to find a gun and end this before it really began. No one was going to miss me. I was alone as it was. I was already gone from the day I was born.

  And that thought helped me squeeze the trigger.

  I heard the shot clearly. Heard the gunpowder firing and the bullet flying from the barrel and out. I heard it when it hit concrete and broke through it all the way to the other side. All of it seemed to happen in slow motion.

  And I was still conscious.

  I opened my eyes to see the gun pointed at the building across from me. Not my head. A building.

  I wouldn’t even let myself kill myself. I wasn’t even strong enough to end my misery. Story of my fucking life.

  Everything came rushing down on my head, every drop of blood and every drop of alcohol. I screamed with all I had. If someone heard, I didn’t care. I just hoped they ran. I hoped they ran and hid from me.

  Regret burned my throat, worse than the thirst. I should’ve run for the elevator at the ROB building. Damn it, I was no hero. Why had I gone to help that man?

  None of it would’ve happened if I hadn’t met my Lord. I would’ve still been human.

  At some point, I stopped screaming. At some point I let go of the useless gun and lay down on the ground. I could feel the sun starting to climb in the sky. It was my last hope. My only hope.