We Only Come Out At Night

Chapter Twelve

A few things I learned about the boys were the different types of personalities they had and even more so how they balanced each other out.

You see, David, is a leader. And he can do what needs to be done. He's typically a quick thinker. He can make the decisions that no one else can.

Dwayne is a warrior. He is the muscle, the one that everyone's afraid of when it comes to gang fights. He's a tall guy and you'd have to be blind to ignore his body. He's built and he knows how to use what he has.

Marko is a schemer. He can articulate and carry out a plan. He know how things are going to play out and he knows what he needs to do to make things go his way. He smart about his moves and knows what he wants.

The same could be said for Paul. He knows what he wants as well. He, as you would find, is a skilled talker. He can talk his way in and out of things. He can be very useful in dire situations. He knows how to manipulate people just the right way.

So in saying this, and stating that Paul is a good talker, meaning he's good with words and people, is typically common knowledge. One point of talking I can confirm him being very bad at is volume control. I know children are told there are times to use an inside voice, like when someone is sleeping. Most would understand that as common knowledge. But to some -Paul- apparently not.

The bags I get under my eyes are sure to confirm that statement.

"How are we going to explain what happened?" Paul, as can be told by the tone of panic and loud volume.

"Well first I'm sure she didn't even know it was us dingbat," Marko, the reason.

"So what's the plan then Marko," Dwayne, the action.

"Well I think logically we should wait for her first,"

"Yeah? And then what? Have her freak out like last time? Dead or alive that throat chopping shit hurts," Dead or alive?

Jesus Christ. What the fuck am I into?

"She won't freak out because we'll be reasonable about this. We know she likes us, and when she starts remembering, do you really think she'll want to leave? We'll just tell her the truth. Perhaps not all at once but parts at a time," Marko, perfect example of someone who is asking to get their ass kicked for avoiding telling me the whole truth.

"Yeah well do think she's going to take the news she'll have to feed on blood pretty soon for the rest of forever? Yeah, I don't think so," What the fuck? Blood? And with it in mind, I could almost taste it. I could almost taste hers.

Before I was thrown into the ocean, I remember vividly, leaning over Caitlyn's freightened body. I could smell her fear; I could hear her heart pounding and the blood rushing in her veins.

I remember leaning over her, an overwhelming scent took over the air, metallic fruits and sweets. Hers smelled no different. I was wondering what exactly it was I was smelling but I could tell you I was so close. So close.

Right before I got thrown into the ocean, I realized how close I was to her throat. My nose barely grazed her skin but I knew if I'd gotten any closer I would have lost my self-control. The smell of sweet goodness had overtaken my senses. I was smelling... her blood.

And like that the reality train hit me at full speed. I was getting a headache from the new information and the mess of what was now occurring.

I slipped out of the bed I supposed I was on. It was comfortable and I was dying to go back to sleep on it, as if I hadn't just remembered anything. There were covers and blankets which I'd been using. The moment my feet hit the floor. I know something wasn't quite right. My hands felt my stomach and the things I found scared me.