Lewis Aleman - The Anti-Vampire

Deep down I know how vile I am. Unlike man, I need no one tell me. The taste of my dark thoughts lingers like the taste of cyanide—bitter and burning, and the hole where my compassion should reside swallows a little more of my dwindling warmth every day.

My fate is certain—I have no strength to stop it. I’ll become this addiction—I’ll let it consume me now. Seeking out its next feeding in the darkness. Heading for the stairs. About to do the despicable to dive my fingers into what I crave.

I will let it consume me. The only question is will I care when there is nothing left of me inside—when I’ve lost all of myself and become full of this lust. Will I even remember? Will I remember what I used to be?

At least the self-hatred will be gone when it’s complete. When I’ve surrendered all of me to it.

My fate is to burn forever, resisting the desire swelling in me—aching for its fulfillment—screaming for a hit. Or, I quench it and then drown in hatred of myself for giving in to it—no delusions over how ugly it is—how ugly I’ve become.

I hate or I burn. Hatred or burning. Hatred or burning.

Trapped like a man swimming upstream in a never-ending river—I fight the itch like fighting the current, constantly wearing myself out, or I quit fighting and let the desire consume me—give in and let it wash me away with the current—drowning in self-hatred for giving in.

Know how revolting the path to the next hit is. Imagine the new breed on my tongue and injected into my arm. Heart races too fast—can almost taste it—breathe it in—feel it alive inside my veins. Know I’ll dive into the unspeakable to quench this thirst—to put out the burning.

Ambrosia—I know she’s too dumb to stay away—can’t stay away from the excitement to save her life or anyone else’s. Probably here somewhere in the darkness already. Maybe here on the third floor with the other girls Roderick’s been hording up there—they must all be pregnant. No matter—the others are here if she’s not, and just one will be plenty. One is a deep enough plunge for tonight. Dark—cruel—savage enough just to use the one girl.

Maybe I’ll take two…

Hatred and burning. Going to dive so deep into the flames—killing all the feeling inside of me so hopefully I’ll never feel this burning again—surrender completely, leaving this struggle behind forever—along with leaving all that I am behind me too—gone forever.

I take the first step onto the staircase—knowing I won’t come back down again the same. I’ll become an abomination to quench this—to kill this burning. And I don’t really care.

His body passes beside me on the old stairs like I’m not here. As if one of us were ghost and not concerned with the other. Not sure if he viewed me as dead and shear or if he was the ghost on another plane of existence and uninterested in me. Either way his mind was so fixed on something upstairs that he didn’t notice me.

If an apparition were ever going to be real and reveal itself to me, this would be the house for it.

Still, I race to the bottom of the stairs—wanting to be far away from him before he has a chance to look back and see me—come after me.

The darkness at the bottom of the stairs is only broken by the inconsistent flickering of one stubborn chandelier down the hall. All the other lights must’ve shorted out with the explosion. Flames cast their moving glow on the hazy windows beside the front door.

Bodies move on the porch.

Just as the deep darkness of the downstairs reaches and touches my feet, arms, and face with my first step into it, a hand grasps my shoulder and yanks me backward.

It’s him. The ghoul from the stairs. Pale skin. Red hair and beard. Fangs.

No longer looking like a ghost, but a very live beast—hungry and violent. Something familiar about him.

“You may wear Maxine’s clothes, but you’re no vampire.”

“These are my clothes,” I say looking up to the flickering chandelier that suddenly goes completely dead. Darkness falls over me like black air.

“Nice try, pretty thing, but I can smell her all over your clothes.”

“You—you’re wrong.”

“Where is she? In the blue room? Taking your place so you can sneak out?”

Panic stalls my mind, shows up on my face.

He smiles a pointed-smile—sharp corners of his mouth—two long, fierce teeth. Know I’ve seen them before.

“Who are you?” I finally ask.

“I’m the wolf, drooling over a tender lamb, and you’re a peace offering for a traitor.”

“What?”

“Roderick’ll be glad to see you—glad I brought you to him. That’s all you need to know.”

“You! You’re the one from the woods—Edgar!”

Sharp nails tear through the front door behind him, ripping through it like a saw blade.

The beast that holds me at my shoulders releases me and turns around to see what’s slashing into the door.

My whole body aches to run, to tiptoe swiftly into the darkness of the hallway, heading for the back door, not knowing what else is hidden in its pitch. I turn and quietly enter the dark corridor.

No, what if it’s him? What if it’s Simon? Turn my back on the dark hallway, returning my stare to the beast who has just attacked me and to the unknown being tearing through the door.

The first thing I see through the hole I’m ripping in the door is nails flying at my body. Grab his wrist and yank it forward through the hole, slamming his body into the remaining shell of the door—his head hitting above the hole—his lower body smashing and cracking the wood below the hole.

Flames scorch my shoulder. Fire raging on the porch—closing in on the house itself.

From the smell, I know it’s Edgar whose hand yanks free and retreats back into the house.

Roderick lies on the wooden porch—flames rising closer to his unmoving body, stake still lodged in his head.

Fire department will be here soon—this place is either going to be engulfed in flames, killing us all, or the vampires are going to clear out fast, taking Ruby with them. Not much time. Have to get to Ruby—God, I hope Katrianna’s gotten her out of this mess already.

Flames sting at my shoulders again. Rush the door, slamming my body into it, ripping the hole I made wide open—my body falls through it onto the floor.

Look to my left—my right—up the stairs. Edgar’s gone. Vanished.

Eyes stare at me from a few steps into the hallway. I can see them strain—trying to take me in—trying to see who I am. Definitely not Edgar’s—too soft. Beautiful. Ruby!

I get to my feet—spine still stinging—movements slower than normal.

“No!” she shouts from the darkness, “Look up! Simon, look up!”

Before I can get my eyes off her in the darkness, Edgar falls onto my shoulders from the burned-out chandelier above. Feel his nails slicing into my shoulders and back.

“Aaah,” he shouts.

I didn’t touch him. He falls off my back to the floor. See Ruby hitting him repeatedly with a beaten-up bit of wood in her hand.

Swing with all my might, punching him in the back of his head. His head sways. Hit him again. Sways more. Step back and land a kick square into the back of his head. Falls over.

“How are you doing, Bright Eyes?” I ask.

Her arms fling around my neck, making my sore muscles come alive. She buries her head into my chest. The wonderful scent of her fills my nostrils, awakening my numb body.