So I'm a Vampire... Now What? - Book 2 (Original Version)

Chapter 4.4 A Family Affair (pt 4)

Claude made a consoling face and opened his arms to Ronnie. She at first looked surprised, and then gratefully stepped into Claude's embrace. I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything at all.

"You know you could take advantage of me just this once... shared trauma is a great aphrodisiac." Ronnie said, fluttering her eyelashes up at Claude.

I left Claude fending off Ronnie's flirting, and went to the bathroom. Just to be clear: I urinated rather loudly and got out of there. At no time did I stop to look contemplatively into the mirror and wonder what I had become. That kind of contemplation leads to uncontrolled emotions and screaming at your own reflection, and everybody knows you don't pull that shit when other people are around. Other people keep you sane. They keep you from teetering over the edge, into the swirl of emotional soup, the madness of thought and sound, only because pretending that everything is okay is the only way to cope.

So, since I didn't do any of that, I exited the bathroom to find Ronnie outside doing the time-honoured and very traditional pee dance.

"Out of the way, chingado!" She snapped as she pushed me out of the way. "Your toilet better be clean!"

The door slammed in my face cutting off the witty response I had about how my mom had made sure that I knew damn well how to clean a toilet. A lifetime of cleaning the bathroom and scrubbing the toilet every Saturday morning does not go away overnight. My bathroom cleaning skills had probably convinced Jaime to keep me as a boyfriend way past my "Sell-by" date.

"So you gonna tell her, or should I do it?" Claude asked as I entered the kitchen. I took a piece of bacon and tried to pretend that I didn't know what he was talking about.

"There's nothing to tell. We killed him. Like Ronnie said: we made a pin cushion out him and now he's dead. It's over. Time to move the fuck on."

"That's bullshit, and you know it. You got Ronnie and the entire family feeling all of this guilt about killing this dude, and you and I know that we didn't kill him properly. He's just going to come back to life in a few days, and then what, Bob?"

Claude had actually used my name. That, more than anything else, drove home just how on the edge he was, how pissed off he was at me. He didn't call me "Dude" like he always did: he used my fucking name.

I opened my mouth to say something, thought about it, then tried again, failed that time as well, then took a deep breath and made one more attempt.

"If nobody pulls those stakes and knives out of his body, there is no way he's going to be coming back. It could be a while before that happens. Really."

Claude didn't look entirely convinced. I continued:

"Look, I'm not a killer," I said carefully. "As far as I know, you're not a killer either, so I know that killing that evil fuck was just as hard for you as it was for me."

"It doesn't count if he's just going to come back!"

"Goddamit Claude: dead is dead! I've died twice, and it fucking hurt both times! I can still remember how it felt! It didn't matter, not one bit, that I was going to come back! It fucking hurt and still fucks with my head every single fucking day. It's something I have to cope with on a daily basis. You don't get to tell me that it doesn't fucking count!

"We killed him! He's dead! He felt every single knife that was driven into him. Every. Single. One. It was a horrible way to die, and believe me, he died, and if he comes back he's going to remember dying, and it's going to fuck with his head in ways you can't imagine. He'll be having nightmares for months about how we murdered his ass." I looked him in the eye. "Sometimes, coming back is worse."