This was basically an idea of how SCHIZOPHRENIA could of continued which got partly typed and then rejected... Rather than delete it I decided to turn it into a short story which basically has something to do with the story SCHIZOPHRENIA but is not directly linked to it, (Timelessdemon blabs on for another few minutes...) anyways... enjoy!
Warning: This story was written in the shortest possible amount of time, so spelllinng misstakes and GrAm?mar erroers are quite likely, lol.
5:15
Scared red eyes watched as light slowly shimmered through the small thin space between where his two bedroom curtains met. Jack backed away as more and more sunlight edged it's way into his once dark, dimmly lit room. He whimpered, backing further away from the ever growing light, he didn't want it to touch him it wouldn't- it couldn't.
Just one mere touch and he'd be turned to instant dust -he was sure of it- he had to escape right now before the light grew anymore. But he couldn't, outside of that door was pain, if he walked outside of that door right now 'they'd' come - 'they'd' come and 'they'd' get him- they'd kill him for what he was...
He twitched as the mocking sounds and calls of Blackbirds, Crows and many other morning birds made themselves known. Slowly the calls began to grow in number, drowning out Jack's previous thoughts and turning his feelings to despair, if he left now they 'could' get him and 'might' kill him... But if he stayed here... he 'would' surely die.
He glanced around the now almost entirely lit room (sunshine cracking in from behind the curtains, now causing random beams of light within his room). Carefully he picked his way across the room from the bed to the door, taking care to stay away from direct sunlight. Finally there, Jack stood, his ear pressed against the door, listening for them, the whispering voices- they were there, but quiet- a great distance from his door. Quickly, he opened his door and ran to the basement door, closing it behind himself and almost tripping over his own feet as he ran down the stairs -two at a time.
Now at the bottom of the staircase he glanced to his left, there was a small bathroom within the basement and he quickly stepped into it, tightly closing the door behind himself. Now inside, he switched on the dim light and stood infront of the yellowed basin, little dried droplets of blood from previous days could still be seen on the rarely used basin, and Jack knew he'd have to be careful to clear them up once this was over, then he could- BANG!
BANG! BANG! BANG! (whistle) Jack jumped and inwardly cringed as he heard the noise come from the floor above, a sniffing and half-growling/half-laughing sound followed- They were close... They were picking up his scent, he had to do it quickly before it was too late... if he waited any longer they'd find him for sure.
Without a further thought, his right hand dove into the right pocket of his long dark cloak and shakily brought out a small rectangular box. He put the box into his mouth and held it with his teeth while he quickly removed his long black cloak and discarded it to the floor.
Now wearing only a black t'shirt and trousers, he shakily took the box out of his mouth, opened it and removed the contents.
A sharp green handled knife was revealed, it's blade glistening dangerously as the false light hit it from above. Almost mesmerized, Jack stared from the knife to his wrists, each wrist containing a single horizontal cut across the vein... He couldn't remember how many times he'd opened and re-opened those same cuts over the last few months... weeks? ...Years?.
He couldn't even remember when he'd started... all he knew was that it had to be done every Tuesday, before true sunrise, or them... they'd find him, they'd drag him to hell and they'd kill him.
Lost in his thoughts, he was suprised when he heard a scuffling coming from upstairs- behind his basement door-.
His eyes widened dramtically, as a growing mass of growling and sneering whispers began to conjugate behind his door-. It would be mere seconds before they got in, there was no lock on this bathroom door. If they got through, it would be too late... it had to be done now!
Frimly gripping the green handle, he brought the knife down gently across his left wrist (enough to cut through the skin but not so much that it dangerously drained him), he stood shakily, watching the blood for a few seconds before passing the knife to his left hand and repeating the same to his right wrist.
Both wrists now sufficiently cut, he dropped the knife into the basin and let his wrists do the same, allowing the blood to drop and drain into the basin, leaving no clue for creatures as to where he drained his vampire blood to just leave human blood to remain.
He listened to the scuffling noises and smirked slightly as they began to quieten, slowly disapearing as his scent also disappeared... dripping slowly away into the basin and through the plughole.
His face turned serious again as he turned the taps on and indured the painful task of washing any lasting bacteria out of his cuts. ...It had to be understood that he wasn't a true vampire, only one 4th, meaning that, while he didn't get any of the useful vampire abilities... He was still immortal (providing he didn't get staked, killed by those 'creatures' or hit by direct sunlight before a draining session). ...Being immortal wasn't the only perk of being only 1/4, he was still able to do things that a normal human could, provided that his repeatedly accumulting vampire blood was drained once a week of course.
It was impossible to say when exactly he'd realised that he was vampire, it was sometime after he'd left the hospital and he'd realised he didn't need the pills, whatever they were for anyway.
...He knew it sounded crazy, that's why he wouldn't tell anyone that he was a vampire, that he was immortal. He knew that if he did tell someone, they'd alert the white coats and the white coats would and try to prove him otherwise. But how could they? He was immortal, not invurnerable, and so the only proof of immortality he had was time.
Turning off the taps, he sank to the floor, rubbing his still bleeding wrists gently and sarcastically muttering that 'time was a great 'healer'', he continued to ponder his situation.
It was even possible to say that the white coats were working with 'them'... it was 'infact' very possible. Besides, if he told someone, they were bound to tell the white coasts... and the white coats'd just love to poison him, numb him with pills so that he'd be too sleepy... too dozy to remember that he was a vampire and then what? ...He'd forget to cut and drain... then he'd truly die!
No... it was best... it was best keep it hidden, tell no-one and stay away from those poison pills. Yes... Yes, that was right, trust no-one...he wouldn't trust no-one and he'd be fine, he'd be just fine. After all... it was a small price to pay for eternal life...
At the moment am revising for exams (way to waste my revising time, lol), but I'll try to get the next 'actual' chapter for SCHIZOPHRENIA up by mid-May. Special thanks to the reviewers of SCHIZOPHRENIA who convinced me to re-start and keep writing SCHIZOPHRENIA chapters... and extra-special thanks to kisshufan4ever who just wouldn't let the story die, lol.
Anyways hope you's all enjoyed the story... if you did please review and I'll hopefully have then next installment of SCHIZOPHRENIA up by mid-May...