A Vampire's Rotten Heart

A Messy Start

Today was a beautiful day if you like death.

Auntie McAllister came bursting through the door at the bright and early hour of four in the morning, wearing her chunky necklace that always looked horrible against her pale skin.

Auntie McAllister wasn't my real aunt, just a close friend of my mother. They were both quite alike: both widowed, both fanatically religious.

"You won't believe what was outside my window. Oh, it was awful! Just awful!"
I shielded my ears from her shrill voice and withdrew my body slightly, pulling myself deeper into the chair. I knew what was outside her window.

"I couldn't tell exactly what it was, but it certainly wasn't human; it was ripping into the throats of that family of feral dogs-- you know, the ones that live just outside my room and— Oh, Garrett..."

Her eyes fell on me. I averted her gaze.
"Are you scared? You don't have to hide in the cushions, love."

"...No. I'm not scared. I'm fine."

The truth was that I was scared. Terrified.

"Oh, Garrett. You don't need to hear about this." She tilted her head towards the bedroom, suggesting I'd go back there.

"I'm nineteen. I'm a man now. I can take it."

Auntie McAllister sighed.

"Well, anyway, you ought to keep the boys inside, Margaret. It's only street dogs for now, but it's only a matter of time before it's men."

"Thanks for the heads up, Auntie McAllister..." I grinned through bared teeth. I looked down at my shirt, only to see a splotch of bright red peeking out of my coat. I quickly grabbed the end of my coat to cover it up.

"...but I think it's about time for you to leave." I stood up and tried to herd her back through the door.

"Garrett..." my mother whispered to me, shaking her head.

Auntie McAllister reciprocated my gesture by pushing me back with her presence.

"Oh, no. I'm not leaving. Not in the darkness, and not with that-- thing-- out there."

I sat back down and closed my eyes, feeling my stomach sink. "I think you're overreacting. It just ate, didn't it? A whole family of dogs? Surely it's got no room left." I knew that better than anyone else.

"It drained the fluids out of a whole family of street dogs! Who knows how much room it even has?"

Auntie McAllister paused and turned to my mother.

"Has Garrett been eating?"

She shook her head. "Nothing since he got sick."

I started dying over and over again in my mind.

"Well, he looks almost all better to me. A bit pale and thin, but not unable to eat..."

"I'm fine. I've been fine." I gritted my teeth and stood up. "I'm going back to bed."
I dragged my feet to the back room and shut the door. Heard my mother muttering something about me being a "typical young man".

I remember being sick. How could I not? It was just a week ago. Lying on the floor, drenched in sweat and in ungodly pain— All I wanted to do was tear all my clothes off, throw myself into the snow, and wait for death's release.

But one day, I woke up, and I was fine. That was the day I died. The day I my soul became damned.

God, what was I gonna do? I ran my tongue over the bottom of my top teeth, managing to draw blood. I know I should've spat it out, but I was so deep in degeneracy, it didn't matter that I swallowed it.

I looked over at my younger brother and the characteristic cookie-cutter wound on his neck. His chest rose and fell, but it rose a little lower every time. I didn't care to see how it played out. I grabbed a small bag I'd prepared weeks before. I didn't know why I was still there. I'd overstayed my welcome a long time ago.

I opened the window and silently crawled out. I ran and ran and ran as fast as I could, through the smog in the alleyways, through the snow and the small Orobanche trees, towards the dolphins and the leviathan Balaenae, who capsized ships and swallowed sailors whole.

    I didn't look back. I had no intention of looking back.

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