Guidelines #3
Dennis brushed past me and lifted the man by his neck, then snapped it and dropped the body. “Problem solved.” He kneeled and took the crooked neck. “Do you want any more?” I shook my head. “I’m gonna drink the rest of this before it gets stale.”
I watched in a daze while he drank, wondering how he could kill someone without hesitation or remorse. Not even a hint of guilt.
“Am I gonna be like that?” I asked once he’d finished.
“A ruthless murderer?” He read my thoughts word for word.
For once I wished he hadn’t for a reason other than annoyance.
I didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh. He licked his lips and smiled.
“Don’t worry, I’m not offended.” He pushed the body aside and stood.
“I doubt you’ll be like me. It’s a choice.
I chose it. I don’t think you will.” He stared at the corpse for a few seconds before walking around it.
“Wait, what’re we gonna do with it?” I gestured toward the thing. It didn’t look very appetizing anymore. The lack of blood made it just a dead body.
“Leave it. Someone’ll find him eventually.”
“We can’t just leave it. We’re right by Mikaila’s house. What if she sees it and gets traumatized?”
“Who?”
“The little girl I walked home,” I said. It took him a second to remember, and even then he barely seemed to care.
“Oh. Right.” He lifted the body by its disfigured neck. “Can you open that?” He nodded toward a large dumpster.
I crossed the alley and held the lid up, then cringed when the body soared past and smacked the hard surface. It bounced off and crumpled to the bottom.
“Ew.” I dropped the lid.
“Better?”
“Yeah.” I wiped both hands against my skirt in disgust. “And you’ll come back to get rid of our DNA or whatever?”
“I always do.”
I shuddered as we set off down the street.
His answer was more disturbing than comforting.
But at least he wouldn’t be going to prison anytime soon and leaving me to fend for myself.
Because that would be horrible. I’d never be fully trained on how to drink, or find out what initiations exist that he was pretending weren’t a real thing, or—
“There are no initiations.”
“Okay, this is ridiculous. Either there’s something wrong with my head or you lied about when you can and can’t hear me.”
“Do you want a real answer?” he asked.
“Yes!”
“Something’s wrong with your head,” he said. I glanced over, expecting the usual teasing smirk, but he was serious. My face fell. “I didn’t realize until your change yesterday. Sean and I were talking about how often he hears Ari, and I realized I do hear you way more than I should.”
“Because of the bipolar disorder?” I asked quietly.
“I assume so.”
“I guess that makes sense. You said you can hear more when I’m drunk or sleeping, right? And my mind is like a drunk person sometimes. Or a drugged person. Or a completely useless person.” I bit my lip, praying a wave of sadness wouldn’t hit. “Why didn’t you tell me this when you figured it out?”
He didn’t respond, but the answer was clear enough: he was worried I’d have another breakdown. Great. Another person walking on eggshells around the bipolar girl who’s prone to explode at the slightest sign of a problem.
“That’s not why,” he said halfheartedly.
“I really miss having private thoughts. This is so annoying.”
“What’s annoying? The fact that Ari and I are the only people who understand you?” His teasing smirk was back.
“Ari understands me completely. You don’t count because you’re cheating. When you can figure out what I’m thinking without hearing it, then you’ll count.”
“I’ll get there eventually,” he said.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I doubt it. I don’t even understand what I’m thinking half the time.
During my breakdowns it’s like everything turns to a big mess of…
I don’t even know.” I thought for a second, trying to find a word to describe it.
“Hopelessness? It’s like a blur of noise that’s suffocating and drowning me at the same time, and then my mind keeps screaming about everything that’s wrong that’s never gonna go away.
So if I can’t understand, I doubt you can. ”
“What’s so wrong that’s never gonna go away?”
“Just stuff. Nothing serious.”
“And now you’re lying,” he said.
“No, it’s called creative speaking.” I giggled at my joke, but he didn’t seem entertained.
“What’s never gonna go away?” He was watching me intently.
“Life. It’s stupid, I know. But I feel trapped sometimes.” I twisted a lock of hair. “Do you ever wanna disappear?”
“To where?”
“I dunno.” I shrugged. “Nonexistence. Or somewhere equally not existing.”
“No, I’m good here. I like existing. Do you not?”
“It varies.” I bit my lip. This was starting to feel like therapy. I had to get out of here. I took off for the condo and shouted: “Bet you can’t catch me!”
I was there in less than a minute, but so was Dennis—I squealed and crashed into him. He caught me without even stumbling.
“Did you forget I’m a vampire, too? I’ll always be faster than you.” He pinched my cheek before disappearing. I vampire ‘teleported’ to their condo and sighed; he was waiting with a smug smile. “Ladies first.” He held the door open.
I grudgingly walked past, then pouted at the empty room.
Ari’s heartbeat was slow and steady in Mateo’s room, already fast asleep.
I dropped the stolen gun beside my suitcase and started down the hall, figuring I may as well go to bed too since there was nothing else to do.
I turned to tell Dennis goodnight and jumped when we came face to face.
He leaned against the wall and gestured for me to keep walking.
“How’d you do that? I didn’t even hear you.” My eyes dropped to his neck, which was already fully healed.
“I moved.”
“Alright, smartass. Why’re you following me down the hallway?”
“My room is over there.” He pointed to the end of the hall.
“Right.” I smiled sheepishly and stepped aside for him to pass. I had totally forgotten his bedroom was past the bathroom. “Thanks for Kiro. And teaching me how to drink without killing. And letting me try your blood. And killing that guy too, I guess. Goodnight.”
“‘Night, Vixen.” He waved over a shoulder, laughing quietly as he entered the dark bedroom.