Free Vampire Books: Vampire Bite – Chapter 5

There’s someone on the floor.  I see blood at the same time as I see wild curly hair.  I move closer, feeling detached from my surroundings, from reality.  I’m on my knees.

“Trish,” I whisper, reaching for her shoulder, touching her, then shaking her.

There is blood on her neck.  Lots of blood.  More is seeping out, pooling around her.

“Trish!” I shout, pushing her over onto her back.

Her eyes are open.  Vacant.  “Trish!” I shout again, as if it will make some difference.

My eyes well up and overflow.  “Trish,” I whisper again, sobbing, half aware of activity around me, someone pulling me back, lights coming on, and the music stopping.  Someone in a uniform is bending over Trish.  There are people shouting.  There’s more sobbing next to me.  Arms around me.  Mark’s arms.  We are being taken to the side, forced to sit down.  Given water.  Swarms of police.  Paramedics.  Everyone leaving.

My eyes clear and I watch as blue and white tape is put up around Trish.  A police lady comes and sits with me and Mark; but I can’t say anything.  I’m shaking.  Someone puts a blanket over my shoulders and forces water into my hand; makes me drink it.  I can hear Mark talking, but I can’t hear what he’s saying; I can’t take my eyes off Trish.  I can see her curls.  Her body.  She’s lying there so vulnerable.  So still.

No.

How?

Why?

Mark is crying hard by my side, and I can feel he is shaking too.

“I want to see her!” he’s sobbing.

“You can’t touch her body; it’s evidence,” is the reply from the police woman.

“Her parents…” I murmur.

“Mark has given us their number.  They have been informed,” she says.

Informed.  Imagine…  I can’t imagine.  I’m here and I can’t take it in; how will her parents understand?

Mark gives the police woman my details, and she says I will need to be questioned tomorrow.  She asks us if we will be ok.  Mark says he will stay with me.  We are shunted away, my eyes on Trish until the last moment.  We are put in a taxi.  Then we are back at mine.  Just like that, my mind out of it.  Gaps in time. 

We are inside my flat.  I make us tea, slowly, numbly.  We sit on the sofa, next to each other, holding our drinks.  Not talking.  Not drinking.

I look up at Mark, and as our eyes meet I can’t stop crying again.  Neither can he.

“This feels so wrong,” he says.  “How can it be?”

“I don’t know.  I don’t know how this could have happened.  Trish…”

We put our drinks down and Mark holds me in his arms.  We sit there like that for a long time.  It feels wrong to do anything.  I can’t put on the TV; no distractions, no music.  Everything feels wrong to do, like it would be disrespectful. 

We lay down in the end, my head on Mark’s chest, and after a long time fall into a numb sleep.

When I wake up light is flooding into my living room.  I am lying on Mark’s chest still, and can feel his rhythmic breathing and his warmth.  My eyes feel puffy and uncomfortable, my head is killing and my throat dry. 

Then I remember what happened.  My mind freezes.  Glazes over.  I can’t think about it now.  Can’t process it.

Slowly, so as not to wake Mark, I climb out of his arms and go to the sink and fill a large glass with water.  I stand in the kitchen, looking out at the grey sky, until I have finished the whole glass.  I spend a long time in the shower, hoping the water will wash away what happened, even though I know it can’t.

It did happen.

After I’m out of the shower I go into my room and slowly dress, getting ready for a day, like everything is the same.  But my life is not the same.  Trish isn’t here, and won’t ever be again.

I can’t believe it.

I hear noises, shuffling feet and a door.  Mark is up.  I hear the toilet flush and water run. 

Part of me doesn’t want to see Mark.  It is like seeing him will mean I have to face what has happened.  But I know it’s unavoidable.

I go back out there and put the kettle on, keeping to routine, getting out the coffee, doing things as I normally would.

Mark comes out.  He doesn’t look at me.  He is very pale and has dark circles under his eyes.  He sits back down on the sofa.  I give him his coffee and sit next to him.

He holds it and sits looking at the TV, even though it is off.

“I’m going to go home,” he says.

“Back to your Hall?”

“No – home.  Bideford.  I want to see my parents.  I don’t want to be here.”

I nod.  “What about the police?”

“I talked to them last night – I don’t need to stay.”

“I do.  They said they’d call round today.  I need to stay in.”

“I can’t believe this,” Mark said.  “I loved her.”

I look up at him, and he nods.

“Yes, that’s what I mean.  I’ve been in love with her for years.”

“You never said anything…”

“You know how she felt, she says it … said it … all the time … known each other so long … too long to fancy each other.  Not true for me.”

“But … you have liked other people – that girl last night?”

“Self preservation.”

I nod.  I guess a part of me knew.

“I can’t go with you.  I’m sorry.”

“I know.  But … I have to go.  I can’t stay here.  I can’t go back to our Halls and be there.  And her not be there.”

He picks up his coffee and drains it, then stands and puts on his jacket.

“I’ll see you soon…” I say, hoping that it is true.

“Will you come home too?” he asks.  “Later, after you’ve talked to the police?”

I shake my head.  “I don’t want to.  Being at home won’t make me feel better.  I’m going to see Alfie still as he knows more about this.  I’m going to find out more and see if I can do something.”

He nods.  “Be careful, won’t you?”

I nod too, although I’m not sure this is a situation where I’ll be able to be careful.  It is amazing how quickly life can fall apart.

He leaves.

I am alone.

I sit on the sofa doing nothing; too numb to formulate thoughts.  Eventually the police woman from last night is at my door.  We sit at the table.  She asks me question after question.  She asks about the guy Trish was dancing with last night, and more about my attack too.  She asks more details about what I can remember about the guy’s face.  Both guys’ faces.

She goes.

I am alone again.

I do nothing all day.

I sit and sit and eventually I start to think again.  I think about Trish and her life which has now ended; I remember playing in the playground as kids, starting big school together, our hugs and fall outs.  She always wanted to do stuff, never could sit still for long.  She loved dancing.  She loved guys.  She was always excited about something, psyching me up for some event; it could be anything, she always made things seem like they would be great.  And with her they were.  She was such a good friend.  And Mark was in love with her.  Poor Mark.  He looked so vulnerable.  Broken.

We are both broken.

I get up and walk to the mirror.  I peel back the bandage from my neck and look at the injury there.  It is healing now, but I can still clearly see where he sank his teeth into my neck.  Could it have been the same guy who bit Trish?  Or are there more like him?  Could the guy she was dancing with have done it?  And I left her alone with him…

I leave my bandage off and chuck it in the bin.  If Trish was here now we’d be talking about vampires … more about whether they could be real … whether it could really be possible.

What did you see, Trish?  Was it just like it was with me?  Did you know what was going on?  Did you realise … you were going to … die?

What was your last thought?

I wonder what Alfie really knows about this.  He did fight that guy off, so he probably does know something.  I wish he had been there with us last night, then maybe he would have saved Trish. 

Suddenly the guy from last night enters my mind; I can’t believe I’d forgotten about him and … that kiss.  Our lips just touched … but the way he made me feel….  I don’t even know his name.  I was kissing him when Trish died.  If I hadn’t been … if I had kept looking for her instead of dancing … things may have been different.  It wasn’t my fault though, I know this.  It was whoever did it.  Whatever did it:  A vampire?  A vampire wannabe?

Time passes very slowly.  I feel incapable of any action and like my brain is not functioning properly.  I pass the day watching TV, although not really concentrating on it.  At night I can’t sleep, and when I do I wake in a cold sweat with my heart pounding, flashes of vampires and Trish lying there on the ground, her neck covered in blood.

In the morning I get up, get ready, trying to keep things normal again, but I can’t bring myself to do any work.  I feel a weight on my shoulders, like I should be getting on with it, and I don’t want to let my client down, yet I need longer to get my head straight.

Alfie turns up in the afternoon.  I plod to the door, expecting him, but I can’t summon any excitement for his visit.  If he’s playing a joke on me … if he’s not a werewolf … if he can’t do anything….  Although he did save me when I was attacked.  Maybe he could do something anyway and help me catch whoever did this.  To stop it happening to anyone else.  

I open the door and he’s standing there with a wide smile.  It falls off his face when he meets my eyes.

“What’s happened?” he asks.

I shake my head, not knowing how to say it, and wave him inside.  I show him an article online; a picture of Trish, a description of what happened.

“My friend,” I say, as explanation, tears leaking down my cheeks.

Alfie’s jaw clenches and he takes me in his arms, holding my head against his chest, stroking my hair.  He feels very solid and radiates warmth.

I calm down eventually and he lets me go.

“I hate vampires,” he says through clenched teeth. 

“So … are you really planning on showing me you turning into a werewolf?  Or is it a joke?  Because I really can’t handle that as a joke right now,” I say.

“Nope, I’m deadly serious.”

I study his face through my puffed up eyes.  His eyes with those amber rings certainly look serious.

“What’s the plan then?  Can we just sit here until you change?” I say, hoping that is the case.  My motivation levels are at an all time low.

“Nope again, sorry!  When I turn into a wolf I need to be able to run around, and I can’t do that here in the city.  We’re going to the woods.”

“Err … great.  What time will you change?” I try not to sound sarcastic, but I know I fail.  My despair and the ridiculousness of this situation are combining to make me not the best of company.

“Look.  This isn’t just a whim, me showing you this.  I want to show you – I think it will help you understand all of this.  Make it real.  I promise you I am a werewolf, and that I will turn.  It will happen when the moon rises, which is soon after it gets dark, so we better get a move on.”

“Ok then … if you’re sure.”  If he really is a werewolf I will be asking a thousand questions, but in this state of unknowing I decide I’m just going to have to go with the plan.  I have a sudden thought.  “But … if you really do turn into a werewolf … err … how will I get home?”

“I have it all set up – you’ll soon see,” he says, and gives me a playful wink.  “Wrap up warm.”