A Vampire's Rotten Heart

The Fledging

    I woke up with an achy back. Just another one of those days.

    I sat up in bed and stretched, hoping that would make my back feel better, but it only got worse. I lied back down with my eyes open, feeling as that dull pain got sharper and sharper. I got out of bed. Maywell would know what to do.

    I was still disoriented by my new height, but that didn't bother me at the moment. I burst into Pete and Maywell's room.

    "Something's wrong!"

    Pete slowly opened his eyes and stretched. Maywell immediately jumped out of bed and rushed over to me.

    "What's wrong?" she said.

    "My back, I—" A searing wave of pain flowed through my body. I tried not to scream.

    I fell to the floor in a cold sweat. The pain got worse and worse— There was no fluctuation, no room for a breath. It consistently elevated.

    It was hot. It was too hot. I clawed at the collar of my shirt and began to frantically unbutton it.

    Pete looked panicked. Maywell looked determined.

    "Get him a pillow and some ice, stat!" she said.

    "What's happening!?" I looked at her and started taking shallow breaths.

    "I don't know. But I know everything will be alright." Maywell helped me unbutton my shirt and vest. She tossed them aside.

    I was trapped on the floor. I was in so much pain, I couldn't move. Even the slightest motion made it a hundred times worse.

    My cheek was pressed against the cold wooden floor. I tried to focus on that sensation. The way the coolness stuck to my skin and radiated outward... But I couldn't help but remember being sick all that time ago. It was just like this— Lying on the floor, sweating. Everyone was frantically running around, trying to do something, anything, but nothing made me feel better. I was sure I was going to die.

    And that lasted more than a week. How long would this go on for? Hours, days, or even more? With the pain continuing to worsen, there was no end in sight. I closed my eyes and prayed for death.

    Pete came back with a pillow and what seemed like two pounds of ice in his arms.

    "Good," said Maywell, "Just give that all to me."

    She took the pillow and ice from Pete's hand. She bundled the ice in my shirt and placed it on my back, then lifted up my head and slid the pillow under. I only felt marginally better.

    I grabbed the pillow and screamed into it. God, it felt good to scream. It didn't make the pain any better, though. I felt like my back was being torn open from the inside.

    I felt something dripping down my back.

    "Washcloth," commanded Maywell.

    I looked behind myself to see what the liquid was.

    It was blood. My blood. Gushing out of my back. I really was being torn open from the inside! I grabbed my pillow and screamed again. I was dying. I was dying. I was dying, and there was nothing I could do about it.

    Pete must've already brought the washcloth, because Maywell was dabbing up all the blood on my sides.

    I heard Pete's voice.

    "Hey. Son. I think I know what's going on." He was knelt over me, examining my back. "I think I can make it stop real fast. But it's gonna hurt."

    "Please! Oh lord, just make it end!"

    Pete pushed his sleeves up and put one foot on my back. He looked at Maywell for approval.

    Maywell nodded.

    He grabbed at the flesh inside of my wounds. It stung like hell. With all his strength, he yanked upwards, tearing two enormous holes that stretched the entire length of my back. I screamed and hissed and flailed around, but soon enough, it was over.

    It was over! I started laughing. Good God, it was over! I was shaking and drenched in my own blood, but it was over! I had never felt so good. I collapsed back on the ground, and Pete gave me a bear hug.

    "You did it, champ."

    "Not that I had much choice—"

    He laughed.

    Maywell gave him one last fetching task. "Get us two buckets of water, a bar of soap, and a hairbrush. We've got some work to do."

    "Aye-aye, doctor." Pete laughed and went off.

    I looked up at Maywell.

    "What even was all that?"

    "Why don't you turn around and see for yourself?"

    I looked behind myself and gasped.

    "I— I—"

    A pair of absolutely massive wings had grown from my back. They were soaked in blood, so I couldn't tell what they looked like besides their sheer size.

    I moved one of them.

    "Eugh..."

    The blood was caked on so thick, the wings were practically restrained.

    Pete returned with the water and soap.

    Maywell dropped the bar of soap into one of the buckets and waited until it dissolved.

    "I hope you don't mind lying down for a good while," she said, scooping a bit of the soapy water into her hand and working it through the left wing.

    "Oh, take your time."

    Hour by hour, more of the wing was uncovered. It was bat-like, covered in a thick layer of long, black fur. A long, spindly thumb stuck out of the top of it.

    Once it was clean, I moved it a bit, but I decided it felt too weird, and I stayed still again as Pete and Maywell worked on the other.

    "How are we gonna hide this?" I asked.

    "I already thought of that," said Pete, "Lots and lots of pillows."

    I laughed, but my mind quickly went to darker places.

    What was I turning into?

    Things had certainly narrowed down, but the possibilities were still too numerous. These wings being touched and handled like this... it felt alien. Would the rest of my body become alien to me as well? If I looked into a mirror, would I still recognize myself?

Everything faded when Maywell started brushing my wings. That felt... nice. Really nice. And it was enough to soothe all my bad thoughts.