by Matt Shaw
Definitely chose the right friend. Not that I had many options to choose from. Added bonus of choosing Jen for support was that she wasn’t overly friendly with my wife. They’d spoken on occasion but she was definitely more of a friend to me than her.
I settled back into my chair and rested my eyes a moment. Seconds later she came back into the room and placed the phone back on the coffee table.
“Do you want a bath or anything? Might help?”
“Just want to shut my eyes if that’s okay - just for a minute...”
“I still think you should go to hospital. I can drive you there, stay with you too if you don’t want to be alone?”
I shook my head and instantly wished I hadn’t as it, once again, triggered the pounding sensation. “I’ll be fine after a bit of rest. Thanks for taking the day off,” I said.
She leaned in close, “Whatever bit you...It sure did make a mess. Looks as though it’s near the main artery. Wait here a minute,” she stood up and left the room again. I didn’t try and listen out for where she went as I could see the phone was still on the coffee table. Besides, hardly any time passed before she came back into the room with a clean towel. “Here,” she said as she gently pressed it against my neck. I winced as a bolt of pain rushed through my body, “Sorry,” she whispered. She pressed it harder, despite my sudden intake of breath, and then moved the reddening towel away so she could get a closer look at the wound, “An animal you say?”
“Yes.”
She dabbed the towel against it again. Another jolt of pain. “Looks human. Kind of. You sure you weren’t bitten by a vampire?” she laughed.
Why did she have to say that?
* * * * *
I laid awake on Jen’s spare bed with my mind wondering back to our relationship. All these years as good friends - I can’t seem to understand how we didn’t become something more. Missed opportunities or we both instinctively knew we’d make better friends? I’m not sure and it’s not exactly important but it is a welcome distraction from the pain I’d be in if I weren’t concentrating on something else.
The bedroom door slowly opened and Jen’s pretty face peered around it. How long has it been since I last saw her? I’m sure her brown hair wasn’t down to her shoulders the last time we met up yet now it seems to have grown way past that length. Suits her though.
“Did I wake you?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“Have you managed to sleep at all?”
“A bit,” I said quietly.
“I’m just about to make something to eat - did you want anything?” she asked.
I shook my head again, “No thank you.”
“Not hungry?”
“Feel a bit sick,” I said.
“Eating may help with that? I could do some dry toast?”
“I’m good, thank you,” I said. I could tell my body was craving something to eat but it certainly wasn’t toast and none of the usual foods I could think of didn’t seem to be striking a chord with my mind either.
I noticed Jen glance at the bedside cabinet where she had earlier put my, now empty, glass of water. “I’ll get you some water,” she said as she reached down for the glass. She picked it up and walked from the room. I didn’t thank her. Will do so when she returns - which I noticed didn’t take long when she walked back into the room with a fresh cup of water. “That’s looking like it could be infected,” she said about my neck as she put the glass back on the side where I could reach it.
I struggled to push myself up, so I could take a sip of the water, “If it’s bad tomorrow - I’ll go to the hospital,” I lied. A stupid lie. I was hoping to hide out here until I felt one hundred percent better but now I’ve ensured I only have today. I need to be gone by morning.
“Let me take you now,” she pushed.
“Tomorrow. I promise. If you want - you can come with me,” another lie. I’ll leave during the night to be sure.
She agreed - somewhat reluctantly. “I’m going to get some food,” she said for a change of subject, “give me a shout if you need anything.” Jen didn’t wait for my answer, or acknowledgement. She turned and went to leave the room. She stopped suddenly and reached into her pocket and pulled out a small packet of tablets, “Oh, I found these,” she said, “doctor gave them to me last time I wasn’t well - some general antibiotic. I didn’t take the whole dose. Upset my stomach. Anyway...Might be worth taking some just in case?” She put them on the bedside cabinet and then left the room.
I took a sip of the water.
Refreshing.
Chapter Three
Broken dreams teasing me; taunting my already vivid imagination with images of bats, vampires and other supposedly mythical creatures of the night. From what I recall of the dreams, they were mostly like snapshots; a mental slide show of all things associated with the undead. The only exception was her; the woman in red, Helen of Troy. Every time my subconscious showed her in my dreams it was real. No still snapshots from a fucked-up family album when it involved her. I just kept recalling the same thing over and over again; a dream from my own point of view. Her contorted face coming for me with her sharp teeth protruding from her mouth ready to be sunk into the soft tissue of my neck. A growling noise as she anticipated the taste of my sweet life-force. Glowing red eyes so full of hatred and hunger - a hint of longing as she prepared herself for the taste of my blood. At the point of the dream where her teeth pierced my flesh I woke with a jolt. A pool of sweat cooling my feverish body and soaking the bed sheets.
My first thought after replaying the broken dreams in my wakened state? The bite isn’t infected. At least - it’s not infected the way Jen believes it to be. No. It’s infected with something else. Helen of Troy’s saliva flowing through my system, killing my blood cells...Slowly turning me into one of...Into whatever she is. Why so hesitant? I know what she is, I just don’t want to admit it because - until the incident - I always knew of them to be nothing more than creatures from horror stories. Monsters of fiction created by one person and then twisted into different styled yet equally frightening beasts by other creative, some might say warped, folk until they were eventually ruined by Stephenie Meyer; some crazy who believed them not to be the monsters others had previously reported but sparking love-sick puppies instead - pussy-whipped into behaving themselves by an emotionless human who’s more monster than any of them put together. A coldness surged through me. I’m not sure what I’d rather be - a monster or what Stephenie Meyer imagined them to be. Ooh look at me prancing around all sparkly and shit.
I threw the duvet back and sat up. My body is numb. I’m not sure if I prefer that sensation to the previous aching I was experiencing. This is just weird now. I stepped onto the bedroom floor. My legs tingled as my feet touched the carpet. Carefully I pulled myself upright. I made my way to the door by staggering there. Not what I had originally planned. I meant to walk there but it seems my feet had a different idea. My hands against the door-frame stopped me from falling flat on my face.
“Jen?!” I called out. I thought she might have come up, with all my banging around but there was no noise coming from downstairs. At least not from her. Something though. Voices from the television in the lounge? Low volume? She probably didn’t want to disturb me. I called out again, “Jen?”
I realised she wasn’t coming up so I slowly made my way down the stairs using the walls as support. Maybe she’s dozed off on the sofa whilst watching daytime television? Some pointlessly dull chat show with a self-opinionated prick giving supposedly good advice to those who clearly aren’t listening, or maybe offering DNA test results which prove whether a spouse has been cheating or not or whether the baby is actually theirs or not. Yeah, she’s probably dozed off.
Downstairs, I stumbled through to the living room where I expected to see her sprawled out on the sofa with the sounds of gentle snoring coming from her mouth. She wasn’t asleep. She was wide awake. Sat up too. Alert.
“Jen? I was calling you. Didn’t
you hear me?” I said.
She didn’t even acknowledge me as I stood there in the doorway. Simply stared ahead at the television. I looked over to see what she was watching - the weather. Looks as though tomorrow is going to be a nice day. Just as well if I’m to be on the streets again.
Jen suddenly spoke, “Who was she?” she asked.
“Who was who?”
“The local news said...”
“What did the local news say?”
“They showed your picture. They said you’re wanted by the police in connection with a serious attack on a woman...”
“What?”
“Who was she?”
“They’re saying I attacked her? That’s not what happened,” I said.
“You said it was an animal.”
“They’re saying I attacked her?” I repeated. In my mind I wondered whether it was her who twisted the story to the police or whether it was the person who hit me with their car. Maybe they came along and just got the wrong idea? Reported a twisted version of events to the police thinking they were doing the right thing?
“I saw the first report a few hours ago. Local news. Wasn’t sure it was you, at first. But...Just watched it again on the latest bulletin. Definitely you - not just someone who looks like you. They even mentioned you by name...You attacked a woman. A serious sexual assault they called it.”
“A sexual assault? That’s not what happened...She attacked me...”
“You told me it was an animal. You came to my house. You lied to me. Friends. We’re friends and you lied to me...” Jen wasn’t looking at me. She was still staring at the television set. The cordless phone was in her hands - her hands which were shaking like a leaf.
I tried the truth, “I was driving home and I came across the woman on the side of the road. Her car had broken down. I stopped. Offered her a lift which she accepted. It was supposed to be to the nearest place with a phone. Next thing I remember - she was biting my neck with a feverish hunger. She was like a woman possessed. I managed to get away - fell out of the car into the path of oncoming traffic which, going by the lump on my head, hit me. When I woke up I was in hospital cuffed to the bed...”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not lying.”
“They said they wanted to talk to you in connection with other attacks...Said you might be dangerous.” Jen started to cry.
“Come on, Jen, you know me...How long have we been friends....”
“Why did you run if you’re innocent? Why didn’t you stay in the hospital and explain?”
“She bit me,” I explained. “For all I knew she’d come back to finish the job. She can’t let me live. Think about it! I’ve seen her true face...I could tell people about her. She’d be hunted down. Experimented on. Killed. Come on, think about it...”
“Her true face? What are you talking about?”
“A fucking vampire!” I shouted despite my best efforts not to mention the ‘v-word’.
“A vampire?”
“You said it yourself,” I continued, no choice now, “it looked like a human bite. Kind of. Well - that would be a vampire bite. Ever since I’ve woken up in hospital, as crazy as it sounds, I haven’t been able to get the idea of vampires out of my mind. Every time I think about the woman - I see her with red eyes...Fucking red eyes and fangs...”
“How hard was that bang to your head? We should phone the police,” she said. She looked at the telephone in her hands.
“We can’t do that,” I said. “I just need time to think. Come on, we’re good friends...Best of friends even and you don’t believe me! You know the police won’t either. I need to find her - bring her out into the open. Expose her for the world to see to clear my name...”
“What you’re saying is crazy,” Jen protested.
“Jen...please....”
“We need to call the police. I’m sure, once you explain what happened, they’ll be fine. And besides, at least they can clear you from the other cases they’ve been linking you to.” She started to dial the emergency services phone number when I even surprised myself by lunging forward and snatching the phone from her hands.
“I said no!” I yelled at her and launched the phone across the room. It hit the wall and smashed into a couple of pieces. “I’m sorry,” I said - the shattering of the phone worked wonders in calming my frayed nerves. “I’ll buy you another one,” I said.
Jen didn’t respond. Her eyes were fixed on the floor as though she feared direct contact with my own gaze. I went and sat down next to her, on the sofa. I thought, if we were at the same level, she wouldn’t feel as threatened by me. Not that she had anything to worry about. Truth be told, I’m not sure why she is reacting like this. She knows me. She knows what I’m capable of. At least I thought she knew. Maybe I was wrong? The way she’s reacting - I’m guessing she doesn’t know me as well as I thought she did.
“I don’t want to go to prison,” I told her. “I’m scared of what will happen if we go to the police. I know they won’t believe me. They won’t listen. They’ll just lock me up. Pin all the other crimes, whatever they are...Pin them all on me too just to make their lives easier. You know - just so they can go on the news and tell everyone they caught the big bad wolf...”
“It won’t be like that,” Jen muttered under her breath.
“Because innocent people don’t go to jail?”
On the coffee table beside us was the remote control for the television. I reached down for it and turned the television off. They say too much television can rot the brain. Looking at how Jen is behaving right now I think it’s fair to say that the saying is accurate.
I breathed out heavily as I took stock of my situation. I actually felt a bit awkward.
With no warning Jen jumped to her feet and made a dash for the door. I lunged forward and grabbed at her. I missed her arm, where I was aiming, but somehow got hold of her leg. She stumbled forward. It all happened so fast I’m not entirely sure what happened but there was a God awful bang as her head connected with the side of the coffee table. Her body thumped to the floor motionless; blood on her forehead.
“Jen?” I don’t know why I called her name out. I knew she wasn’t going to answer despite her eyes being open. “Jen - stop playing about...” Still she didn’t move. I crouched down next to her. “Jen.” I gave her body a gentle shake. Nothing. Slightly harder shake and still there was no voluntary movement, on her part, or moans showing that she was alive at least. “Jen...” I felt her neck. I can’t find a pulse. “Jen...Wake up.” I gave her another shake. “Jen. Please.”
What have I done? I slumped back down onto the floor - my back against the settee. What have I done? I’m shaking. I looked across to the telephone. My first thought was to phone for an ambulance. My second thought was that I couldn’t - for more than one reason. The phone was broken and, more importantly, the police could find me. Hard to say I’m innocent whilst standing beside the body of my best friend.
Shit.
* * * * *
I don’t remember eating that, I thought as I looked down the toilet bowl. I wiped the vomit from my mouth, and chin. I feel a little better now. Better out than in, so they say. I looked up from the bowl and flushed the chain. I watched as the water swirled round and round - replacing the dirty with the fresh. Well - as fresh as toilet water can be. Just because a dog would drink from it - doesn’t mean I’d want to.
I sat back, on the floor, and leant against the door. Can I just stay here forever? Certainly easier. Forever...
Forever...
“Shit!”
I hopped to my feet and looked at my reflection in the medicine cabinet’s mirror. More specifically I looked at the bite mark. It doesn’t look like fang marks - definitely more like a normal human bite. Normal? There is nothing normal about a woman who would drink human blood. I winced in pain as I foolishly pressed upon the bite, forcing clear liquid from two of the puncture wounds on the skin. At least it’s clear. A good sign, I recko
n, that it is not infected. Another positive sign, that I’ve literally only just considered, is that I actually have a reflection to gaze upon. Myths and stories - they all report these vampiric creatures to be somewhat lacking when it comes to reflections. Unless of course I will lose my reflection at a later date? Perhaps it goes at the same time as my soul finally flees my body?
Stop being stupid, you’re fine. You’re not going to turn into a monster, I told myself. No? Then if I’m not turning into a monster - how come I’m not too upset about the death of my supposed friend? Other than feeling sick, which might be nothing to do with what I’ve just done, I don’t really feel anything. Well - I feel something...But not what I’d expect to feel in a situation like this. Perhaps it’s the shock blocking my usual level of empathy? Christ I cried for a week, as a little boy, when my hamster died. Now I’ve killed a human? Hardly anything.
