Vince shivered and blinked open his eyes. It was still dark. His clock shone dimly out in the darkness. 04:37. It wasn't even morning yet.
That's what you get for storming off to bed so early in the evening, he thought to himself.
He rubbed his face, finding it coated in cool sweat. He gave the reflection in the mirror across from him a "What the hell?" face before he shivered once again at the thoughts running through his head and pulled his duvet tighter. Still no reassurance. He wriggled against his sheets, but they were damp with his sweat and stuck to him. He pondered for a moment of how he could sweat before shrugging off the thought and peeling himself away from the covers.
He put his head in his hands. He couldn't go to sleep, even if he wanted to. He just pretended to sleep for Howard. He glanced at the clock once more before sighing. He couldn't sit here for hours, he didn't have the attention span required to amuse himself. He stood up and nearly fell back down; his legs were weak like he was ill. He mocked himself as if to think that he was still half asleep and he let his new instincts guide him, without any clue where he thought he was going.
He made it to the door and opened it without a sound. His hand rested on the doorknob of his room for about a minute, wondering what the hell he was thinking of doing. He rubbed his eyes. Part of him felt as if it was so tired and desperate that he could have sat down, right there and then, and it could've made him cry until he drifted to sleep, though he knew that he never could sleep again. But he didn't. Instead, with one hand still furiously rubbing his eye, he turned the handle and closed the door smoothly behind him. If he'd had a blanket, he'd have looked perfectly like a child who had just had a nightmare, which really was what Vince was trying to avoid.
He instinctively stepped over the creaky floorboard and padded barefoot across the small gap between his room and the staircase.
There was no one in the shop when he had turned the corner of the stairs almost an hour ago. He glanced around quickly before noticing no one was going to come in anytime soon and sat down lazily on the small sofa at the side of the room. He ran his fingers over his fangs before glancing once more… Still no one…
There was a shallow creak of a floorboard behind him and the shuffling of feet. Vince glanced round quickly, closing his mouth before glancing round once more.
"No one can find out," he thought to himself calmly "Not if I keep my mouth shut." He sighed at the ceiling while screwing up handfuls of the cover next to him in his hand, clearly terrified of anyone finding out. He let his head rest against the back of the sofa, his eyes closed and his lips slightly apart. He let his mind wander.
His nightmare had finally come true. It terrified him to the extreme. He'd killed innocent people. He could still hear the screams in his mind, could still see the knife they held, the stabbing, the cutting, the blood, the gore, the puddle, the bodies, the fearsome creature that he was, poised and ready to plunge into their pulsing hearts.
He shuddered at the thought of what he was. It had been an accident. He hadn't meant to do it. He hadn't meant to do anything that, He just wanted to be alone.
He sighed, pushing away the tattered bright blue blanket away from him, leaning forward, he put his head in his hands.
"Vince, you ball bag," a small, lispy voice called from behind him.
Vince froze for a second before quickly getting up and turning to the face the small shaman.
Act natural, Vince thought to himself, casually messing his hair up with one hand while his other arm stretched out above him and forcing himself into a fake yawn.
"No use in hiding Vince..." Naboo sighed walking up to the confused electro poof. "I know what you are…"
"Tired?" Vince asked sheepishly. He struggled to remain calm as panic rose up inside him. How did he find out? Was it the way I talk? I don't look that different, do I? Thoughts filled his head one after the other, each one eating away at the very centre of his brain cell. He sighed and turned to face the window, the cold autumn rain pelting against the brittle windowpane. He thought about just running out and leaving the shop forever, but he couldn't leave Howard. Not again.
"Vince, are you even listening to me?" The small figure behind him growled. Vince turned to face the angry shaman; he hadn't noticed that while he was daydreaming Naboo had been talking to him.
"M'sorry What was you saying?" Vince stretched once more while Naboo walked slowly but calmly behind his friend.
Vince raised a shaking hand to his neck rubbing it in worry. How come Naboo didn't smell... good? As Howard or any other person he had met? He glanced behind his shoulder at the small figure pacing behind him. He felt something sharp. Something cold ran down his neck. Water? Thoughts crowded his mind, his tiny brain cell struggling to come up with possibilities. No, it couldn't be. He pulled his hand back slowly to examine it carefully. He gasped, his knees buckling at the sight of the thick crimson liquid running down his pale fingertips that shimmered beneath the soft glow of the Nabootique lights.
Vince sank to the floor, his thin legs crumpling up in a pile beneath him. What had Naboo done to him? He clutched his neck rocking his body in shock, like a small child clutching its favourite teddy bear. Pain soared throughout his body; he let out a small yelp somewhere in between a cry of pain and shock. A mixture of emotions coursed throughout his body. His eyelids became heavy, the world around him beginning to blur.
"…Shit." he winced, he felt himself falling, his vision fading as collapsed onto the cold, hard floor of the shop. He glanced slowly with what little vision he had. He felt like he was watching an old film, the black and grey smudges covering every item, nothing recognizable. He starred at the black blur that he guessed of the small shaman who was walking towards him.
Why me? He thought to himself as the pain increased.
He blacked out.