I won’t let her, though. I’ve come too far to give up now. And it hasn’t been a week yet.
Has it?
We lock eyes for what seems like a lifetime before she finally leaves the room.
Maybe I’m dreaming—or hallucinating.
But I doubt it…
20
I don’t know where I am…
Let me out of here…
Mum! Where are you…
I roll off the sweat-soaked mattress onto the rough, wooden floor.
How did I get here?
There’s a window in front of me. It’s sealed up with wooden panels. Using my nails, I start to crawl towards it like a wounded cat.
There’s an intense hunger, roaring inside my stomach.
Using the broken windowsill, I pull my weak, aching body up, and then press my face against a tiny hole in the wood.
Before the sunlight burns my eye, I see someone in the distance. A man. He’s standing next to a blue car, staring at the house. Who is that?
It’s a dream.
Just dreaming…
I drop to my knees, cupping my stinging eye with my hand, and then slither back over to the mattress.
By the time I reach it, I remember where I am, and what the hell I’m doing here.
I clutch my stomach and close my eyes.
Help me, Mum…
I need you…
21
One week is up.
Kate hands me the mug. I sniff it. There’s a dread bubbling up in my stomach at the thought of throwing up again. By now I should be used to it, but I suppose torture is worse when you know it’s coming, no matter how many times you suffer.
It slides down my dry, swollen throat like damp sandpaper. I lean over the bucket as my stomach fills, and wait for the flood of vomit to burst out.
Breathing deeply, I stare at the bottom of the empty bucket, and then up at Kate. Her nervous eyes peer down at me, waiting to rub my back, to tell me that it’s time to give up.
A minute passes.
And another.
I listen as my gut rumbles and churns—but still no puke. It’ll come though. It’s just a little slow, that’s all.
Another minute passes and still nothing.
Frowning, I lift my head up and then shrug my shoulders. “It’s not coming.”
Kate kneels beside me and puts a hand on my back. “How does your stomach feel?”
I pause for a moment, trying to figure out if I’m about to puke or not.
But for the first time, nothing happens.
I want to smile, I want to celebrate, but I can’t risk it yet, it’s too soon.
“Do you think it’s worked?” Kate asks. I can tell she’s too afraid to rejoice as well.
“I don’t know,” I reply. “Maybe.”
I lie back on the mattress, taking slow, controlled breaths, praying that a huge eruption of vomit doesn’t take me by surprise.
Another minute passes.
Kate’s eyes slowly light up. “I think you’ve done it.”
“Let’s not get too excited,” I say. “There could just be another delay—a cruel delay.”
“You’re right. We’ll give it a few more hours before we crack open the champagne.”
“Yeah. Let’s see what I’m like by sunrise.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Kate says, standing up. “I’ll let you get some rest and I’ll be in to check on you soon.”
“Thanks, Kate,” I reply, closing my eyes.
Just as I hear the bedroom door close, a tiny smile creeps across my lips.
It’s a smile of hope…
PART V
CLOSER TO HOME
22
Summer has arrived and there’s actually a heat wave in the UK. There hasn’t been one in years. Typical.
It should get me down. I mean, a hot August was always the highlight of my year—but now that I’m getting pretty used to the nightlife, and taking animal blood without puking, I can handle having a summer-less existence. Especially as it means that I’ll be going home soon. Well, as long as I can cut out human blood altogether.
But I will. I’m certain of it.
In the meantime, though, Kate and I have really improved the house. It’s still a shithole, just not a complete shithole. We’ve swept and dusted every room, scraped the broken plaster and wallpaper off the walls. The kitchen now has a table and an even bigger fridge and freezer. Catching animals is difficult, so freezing blood is essential. Every window is sealed up, with no light whatsoever sneaking in. Kate even managed to get the water back on. It’s cold, but at least we can do away with wet-wipes, rags, and pouring jugs of mineral water over us. It runs from the well outside, so I climbed down, cleared the blocked pipes. Kate offered to go down, but I insisted. It’s the least I could do after she gave up human blood for me.
Kate now sleeps in the other bedroom. It was fine sharing for a while, having someone to talk to first thing. But we both desperately need our space—Kate probably more so.
Our DVD collection has grown beyond anything I’ve ever witnessed before. It’s as if Blockbuster Video has returned from the grave and is now living in our farmhouse.
The sunlight, hot showers, friends, and family; they’re all things I expected to miss. But I never realised how much I would miss the internet. I’d give anything to read my emails, to check Facebook, to tweet someone. It’s only been a few months, and already I’d sell a kidney to watch one measly video on YouTube. Kate promised that I’d get used to not having it. She lied. I know we can’t have it, I know that they’ll be able to track us, but it still doesn’t make it any easier.
I haven’t watched TV for two days. I’ve been too busy reading The Hunger Games. I never got ‘round to it before, but now that there’s hardly anything to do, I got Kate to pick me up the trilogy. I’ve never been a very fast reader—too many distractions—but now I’m whizzing through them. I’m already on the third book and I’m loving it. Kate says she’s not a reader, never has been, but what else is there to do? We only have to hunt two or three times a month. There’s no cooking to do, no job to go to. It’s just this place.
I think Kate is running a little low on money. She’s been talking about getting a job. The new fridge must have set her back quite a bit, plus there’s the petrol for the car and generator. I know I’m just a kid, but I feel guilty for letting her go out to work. If there was something I could do to earn money, in a place where I wouldn’t get recognised, then I definitely would.
Getting the newspaper is not quite like having the Internet, but it’s the only way to keep up with the outside world. Every few days, Kate buys a copy from town. It’s the same boring shit: politics, war, street crime. Nothing’s changed, and there’s been no mention of me. I told Kate that maybe they’ve stopped looking for me, but she seems to think that they’re just not reporting it anymore.
My memory seems to be improving fast. I still can’t remember everything that happened during that first couple of days, but other than that, most of it has come flooding back.
Kate enters the house carrying a plastic bag. Another newspaper? She strolls over to me, pulls out an A4 book and drops it on my lap. Frowning, I put The Hunger Games down and pick up the new book. “What’s this?” I ask, just as I read the title. It’s a school textbook—and of all things, it’s English.
“You need to start studying,” Kate replies, sitting on the arm of the couch. “We can’t have your brain turn to mush reading all that nonsense.”
“It’s not nonsense; it’s literature.”
Kate snorts. “Listen, anything starring Jennifer Lawrence is not literature.”
“She happens to be a great actress.”
She snorts again, this time much louder.
“And besides,” I continue, “this is the book. It’s got nothing to do with her. Would you rather I sat here watching The Walking Dead instead?”
“No, I’d rather you studied.”
I take a glimpse at the English
book, flicking through the pages. “This isn’t even my level. This is next year’s.”
Grimacing, she snatches it from me to see for herself. “Bloody hell,” she mumbles when she notices the year on the front cover.
I smirk at her, picking The Hunger Games back up. “So you’re out of luck.” Flicking through, I quickly find the page that I was on. “Such a shame.”
Kate shakes her head, puts the textbook back into the plastic bag, and then heads for the front door. “This isn’t over, smart ass,” she says as she leaves the house.
I swing my feet up onto the couch and smirk.
English? It’s the summer holidays.
No bloody chance.
23
Kate says that today is my birthday. The memory of that date seems lost forever, but I’ll take her word for it anyway.
So I guess I’m fourteen-years-old then. Well, technically I’m still thirteen, which pisses me off, but I won’t let it spoil today.
Kate walks over to the kitchen table, holding the chocolate birthday cake, and singing ‘Happy Birthday’ at the top of her voice. This is the first time that I’ve ever heard her sing—and it’s pretty awful.
She sets the cake down and I blow the fourteen candles out with one breath.
“Thanks, Kate,” I say with a smile. “You didn’t have to do this.”
She sits down on the chair. “Of course I did. It’s your birthday.”
“Yeah, I know that, but—”
“But nothing,” she says, handing me a small, flat box, wrapped in pink paper. “Here.”
I frown in bewilderment, taking the gift from her. “What’s this?”
“Open it.”
I beam excitedly as I tear off the wrapping.
It’s an iPad!
“You didn’t have to do this,” I say, even though I’ve already started to open the box.
“Just enjoy your gift and stop acting like an old lady.”
“Thanks, Kate,” I reply, kissing her on the cheek. “It means a lot.”
“You’re welcome. I’ve loaded it with lots of games and music.”
“How? We don’t have the internet?”
“I spent a few hours on Saturday, sitting in Starbucks, making use of their free Wi-Fi.” She hands me another wrapped box. “You’ll need these too.”
I shake my head, but still with a huge grin on my face. “Another present?”
“Of course.”
I open it.
Top of the line headphones!
“Thank you!” I say, this time hugging her.
Kate chuckles. “Can’t have you going stir crazy, now can we?”
I pull the headphones out of the box and try them on. They’re pink.
I love them!
“We need something to celebrate,” Kate announced with excitement. “You’ve been through hell these last few months, so a birthday party is exactly what you need.”
My eyes travel around the empty living room. “We need more than two people for a party.”
“Who says you do?”
“Everyone.”
Kate gets up, opens the fridge, and pulls out a bottle of champagne. “Who needs people when you’ve got booze?”
“Well, that’s all very well for you, but what about me.”
Kate pulls the cork out and a huge popping sound leaves the bottle. “Oh, you’re having some too.”
I shoot her a look of confusion. “Me? But I’m only fourteen.”
She takes out two champagne glasses from the cupboard and sets them down on the table. “You’re a vampire. It’ll take a lot of booze to get you drunk, even at your age. But the great thing about it—even if you do get drunk, you’re body will heal itself after just a couple of hours. So no hangovers.” She fills the glasses up; the bubbles dribbling down the sides. “So I say, fuck it! Age is just a number, and you’re only fourteen once.”
I pick up my glass and take a small sip. It tastes great. This is the first time that I’ve ever tasted champagne. I’ve tried beer, but that was disgusting.
Kate takes a huge swig, almost finishing the glass, and then grins at me. “Nice, right?” she asks with a tiny slur. Is she drunk already? Probably had something on the way home.
I glance at her eyes; they’re glazed over, bloodshot. She’s definitely a little tipsy. She reminds me of someone.
Mum.
24
Kate and I are sitting outside on the grass, watching as the sun slowly disappears behind the hillside. My skin tingles a little, but it’s worth it. There’s a slight chill in the air, so I have a blanket over my shoulders. Kate only has a thin cardigan on; she doesn’t seem to feel the cold like I do.
The last few weeks have flown by. I never thought they would, but when you have a routine, something to get up for, life suddenly becomes much less boring.
When I wake, I drink a little blood (one third human, two-thirds animal. Getting closer), tidy the house, clean the kitchen, watch a little TV, and then read my book. I’ve even been doing a little gardening. In my previous life, I barely knew what a rose was, let alone a bluebell. I’ve dedicated a patch of grass in front of the apple tree to my flowerbed. It’s not very big, but it’s mine. Kate has her own little patch on the other side of the house. I think she’s secretly in competition with me to see who can get the prettiest patch. The only problem with the garden is the fact that we have to do it at night. Flowers always look more beautiful under the sun. Not that it matters anyway; Autumn is almost here.
Being away from school is pretty strange. I miss my friends, gossiping about teachers, boys, reality shows, but out here, away from everything, all that seems so superficial. And for the first time in my life, I actually have a thirst for knowledge. Since turning fourteen, I’ve replaced the majority of my fictional books with history books and autobiographies. Shit, I’ve even started to enjoy maths. Kate tries to help me with my studies; she thinks that being older than me automatically gives her a better understanding. But I can tell that it’s way out of her comfort zone. God knows why she hasn’t learned more in all her time as a vampire. Give me another thirty years and I’ll be Stephen Hawking!
I lie down on the grass, staring up at the dark, pink sky. It’s so beautiful, like so many things that I didn’t appreciate before. The sun was just something that came up in the morning, and went down in the evening. The moon was just a place that existed far, far away, none of my concern. And plant-life, trees, all that nature shit that had no effect on me whatsoever is now more prominent, more stunning than I ever thought possible.
Kate lies back too, her hands behind her head. “What are you thinking about?” she asks me, her eyes on the sky.
“Can’t you tell?” I ask, playfully. Her hold over me has been slipping more and more lately, especially since the hunger vanished.
“You’re still in here,” she replies, tapping her head with her finger. “I’ve still got my eye on you.”
I snort. “Oh, yeah—what am I thinking then?”
The chocolate teapot is coming home.
Kate squints her eyes as if trying to read my thoughts. She’s struggling; I can tell by the strain on her face.
She gives me a smug grin. “Come to my chocolate house?”
I burst out in laughter. “Not quite.”
“What was it then?” she asks.
“The chocolate teapot is coming home,” I reply.
Kate chuckles too. “Close enough.”
“Yeah, right,” I say under my breath.
For a few minutes, we say nothing, just silently admiring the night sky. These moments are precious now. We have no awkward silences. We can just say bugger-all and not have to worry about filling the gaps with nonsense.
In all the months we’ve been at the farmhouse, we haven’t had one visitor. We really are in the middle of nowhere. That’s why I’ve grown to like this place. I never thought it was possible, but I suppose there are many worse places to hide out. I’m just a mega-rich movie star, spen
ding months at a luxury rehab centre to kick a drug habit.
Luxury?
“What’s your favourite book?” Kate asks me out of the blue.
Still staring up at the sky, I try to think. “Umm...probably The Witches. What about you?”
“Jurassic Park.”
“Really? That’s a strange choice.”
Kate turns to me with a frown. “Why?”
“Well, surely the movie’s better.”
“Not a chance. The book is much better.”
I shake my head. She’s mad! How can anyone think that?
“What’s your favourite movie then?” she asks.
I smile. “That’s easy. Mean Girls.”
“Not bad. That’s hard to argue with.”
I nudge Kate in her side. “Go on then—what’s yours?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” she replies. “Jurassic Park.”
I chuckle. “What a surprise!”
I feel something cold land on my left cheek. It’s a speck of rain.
Then another.
Before we even have time to acknowledge it, the Heavens open and it starts to pour down.
“Shit!” Kate cries as we scramble off the grass towards the house.
I should be pissed off that the weather just spoiled a nice moment, but all I can think about is my flowerbed getting ruined. How sad is that?
Now I really have turned into a freak.
Just as Kate disappears into the house, I realise that my iPad and headphones are still on the grass. “Oh shit,” I mutter, racing over to them. I scoop them up and push them under my hoodie, away from the rain.
Above me, there’s a flash of lightning, followed by a loud rumble of thunder. It’s terrifying, yet equally beautiful.
I race back towards the house. At the door, I give another glance at the sky, hoping to see it light up again. Kate calls for me to get inside. The moment I step into the house, I hear a rumble in the distance. But it doesn’t sound like thunder. This is more like a car engine, driving across gravel.
“What’s wrong?” Kate asks as I stare out along the field.
Thea (Book 2): A Vampire Story Page 9
