CHAPTER SEVEN: Skinny and Twisted and Evil

Nikolai took off his shades and rubbed them against the material of his new leather jacket. The sun seemed irritatingly bright that morning, and he had a monster hangover.

"Nik!"

The singer looked up. Dirk, his bass slung over one shoulder, motioned for him to follow. The van had parked outside the back entrance of the hotel so as to ensure a quick escape, since the lobby was flooded with rabid fans.

Nikolai put his sunglasses back on and followed the bass player into the white car, sliding the door shut behind him. The rest of the band members lounged in the back of the van, amongst amps, instruments and Satanist paraphernalia.

"What the hell was that all about, Nik?" Dirk demanded the moment Nikolai gunned the engine.

"What was what about?"

"That damn interview we gave! You didn't let anyone else get a word in."

Nikolai reached over and gave Dirk a playful noogie. "Oh, silly Dirk. People want to hear me talk. They don't give a monkey's ass about what you have to say."

Dirk shook his head disbelievingly and switched on the radio. The Cure flooded the vehicle. "I thought we were in this for the music, man," he grumbled.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Nik shot back.

"I mean, you're more interested in having your face on the cover of Rolling Stone."

"Um, hello? Who fucking doesn't?" Nikolai retorted. They rounded the corner.

He was silent for a moment, scratching at the stubble on his chin. There had been a poll among the fans at the interview about his look. Fifty three percent liked his 'bad boy' look, the other forty seven lobbied hard for a more clean cut image. A few girls got into an intense argument and had to be escorted out by security.

"This is getting boring," he announced, just as Robert Smith trilled out the final verse of the song.

"I don't care if Monday's blue/Tuesday's gray and Wednesday too/Thursday I don't care about you/It's Friday I'm in love..."

"What is?"

"The fame, the fortune. Y'know."

Dirk slapped the dashboard. The other band members looked on in interest. "I can't believe you, Nik. Two months ago, this was everything you wanted. And now it's boring?"

"It's just...not enough. We're getting too comfortable. We need to do something major."

"What? Like kill another virgin?"

Nikolai grinned. He'd been practicing his wolfish pretty-boy smile in the mirror all morning, so as to be ready for the paparazzi. "There's an idea."

A muscle jumped in Dirk's jaw.

"Yeah. Okay, so Jenny from the Block got us this far. How far do you think her friend would get us?"

"Who, the blonde?"

"Yeah. Jan Brady."

Dirk turned to look out the window, at the buildings that passed him by. He recalled the night at Melody Lane, the night that seemed a thousand years ago.

"What about her?" Nikolai gestured towards the two girls that had approached them.

Dirk's eye strayed to the blondie. She was busy with the pinball machine, but he still got a nice view of her: petite and ethereal with all that curly hair floating around. She seemed almost too gentle, too innocent to be in some sleazy dive bar, surrounded by the redneck masses.

"Who, Jan Brady?"

"No. Fuck you. Her." Nik pointed to her raven-haired friend. "The Statefield Butter Princess. The one who's buying me alcohol."

"Oh." Dirk tried not to sound too disappointed. So Nik wasn't interested in the blonde at all...what was her name? Amelia? Alicia?

Nik followed his line of vision. "Hey, someone's checking out Polyanna."

"Shut up." Dirk shoved him away.

"Hey, man. It's fine. She is kind of cute, in that girl-next-door way." Nik licked his lips, and Dirk wanted to sock him. He didn't know what it was, but she had some sort of j'ne sais quoi sex appeal to her. Something that reminded him of the days when Low Shoulder was really just a bunch of friends wearing their sisters' eyeliner, jamming in the school caf. When you were never brave enough to meet the eye of any of the cute girls watching you play, but secretly hoping they were all looking at you...

"You sure she's a virgin?" Dirk found himself asking.

"You kidding?" Nik snorted. A Ramones song came on.

"Met her at the Burger King/Fell in love by the soda machine..."

...

I think it was around three in the morning. I walked down the side of a back road, the chilly night air skimming the surface of my consciousness but not penetrating. A few cars passed me by, and I kept my face hidden in the hood of my sweatshirt.

I remembered eighth grade, when my friends and I had first taken tabs of ecstasy. We were at a poetry reading, and figured it would be a cool, artistic thing to do. There was the feeling of instability, as though the ground were being slowly pulled away from you. Everything was shattered and twisted and refracting, like my eyes had turned to kaleidoscopes, watching as blurry patterns repeated endlessly.

The feeling of not being able to hold onto something was all too familiar. I staggered off the side of the road and into the thick woods. Leaning against a tree trunk, I slid to the ground. My body ached, my muscles slackened. My breath came with difficulty.

I was so goddamn hungry.

I let my eyes flutter closed. Sleep felt like the only thing I could do right now, seeing as I could barely move. Maybe I would feel well enough to try to get back to Needy's in the morning...that is, providing I could remember how to get there. My sojourn into the woods had been muddled and shaky. I had no idea what road I had taken, or which way to go back to Devil's Kettle.

But maybe in the morning, some sleepy, grayish voice in my mind whispered.

The morning had never felt further away.

...

I waited for him. Three days went by and he didn't come back. I didn't hear the soft whoosh of feet in the backyard, or the scrabble of fingernails on wood, of someone scaling the wall. He was not hovering by my window, or lurking inside my closet.

The first night after our argument, I left a slab of raw beef on the windowsill. In the morning, it was still there, albeit congealed and foul-smelling. The second night, I stayed up until dawn with my reading lamp on and the heavy flashlight clutched in my hands.

The third night, I cried. I was taking a warm bath, and the temperature of the water only served to remind me of the heat coursing through his body, beating against my skin like a sun. I saw his dark eyes and his messy hair. My chest felt like it was in a pressure chamber. I sobbed until the water cooled and my face was puffy. Rivulets of snot and saliva ran down my chin.

School was no better. Things had gotten even tenser with Chip. After the third day, Mr. Wroblewski announced the dance.

I watched as the students around me cheered and grinned. Was I the only one who felt a pang of icy dread sweeping through my chest? My eyes strayed inevitably to the girl in the tight skirt, the girl who I'd known and loved like a sister since we were children. The girl who was haunting my dreams.

Because I knew what she was thinking. It was the same thing I was thinking.

This wasn't a dance to Jennifer.

This was a fucking buffet.

Think about it: mobs of sweaty, horny boys all packed together in an enclosed, dimly lit auditorium. So many young men, tipsy from the spiked punch, who could watch in wonder as her hand extended towards them. So many boys who would take it. Let her lead them into hallways and deserted school bathrooms. Kiss them for awhile, bring to the surface feelings they only felt in front of the monitor of their porn-riddled computers. And then sink her teeth into their arteries.

Oh, God. And, of course, it would be the perfect opportunity to get to Chip.

I had to warn him.

As soon as the bell rang, I scooped my books up into my arms and dashed out, shoving past about ten students. Chip was just leaving the band room, having probably been talking to the teacher. As soon as he saw me, his eyes lit up, and my stomach clenched.

"Hey, babe."

"Hi. Um, I need to talk to you. Right now. It's really important."

"Oh...okay." He let me lead him outside and behind the bleachers.

"So you heard about the dance, right?" I began. It seemed like the most logical place to start, if I wanted to spill everything I knew about Jennifer to Chip. I remembered the night after the Melody Lane fire, when I had tried to tell him about her first appearance. He had brushed off my suspicions as simple worry, and had even suggested I talk to the school counselor. I hoped I could come off rational enough so as to avoid another jab at my sanity.

"Yeah. Listen, I figured maybe we could make reservations somewhere before. Like go to dinner, and then go to the dance after. How does that sound?"

"That's the thing, Chip. I don't think we should go."

His cute brown eyes were full of surprise. "Why not?"

"It's...not safe."

"Why isn't it safe? We've gone to dances before."

"Yeah, but what with everything that's been happening lately..." I babbled.

He cut me off. "Needy, some cannibal boy-killer isn't going to grab someone in the middle of an auditorium full of people. He'd have to be seriously retarded."

"That's the thing, Chip. It isn't just some random guy. I know who it is."

His mouth dropped open. "Who?" he demanded incredulously.

"Jennifer."

For a few seconds, he stared at me, absolutely speechless. Then he gave a dry, bitter laugh. "Very funny, Needy."

"I'm not kidding!"

He eyed me. "No," he finally said. "You're not. But why are you so convinced it's Jennifer? I mean, she wasn't half Jonas' size, and he was torn to shreds. Plus, I seriously doubt she's that evil."

"Well, she is. It's not really her fault though. She's possessed," I blabbered on. "By a demon. The night of the fire, the band that was playing–Low Shoulder–took Jennifer into the woods in their freaky van and they...did something to her. Something that made her into a succubus."

"Which is...?"

"A flesh-eating demon that lures in their prey by seducing them."

"Needy, have you been watching too many SyFy Channel movies again?"

"No, Chip. I'm serious. Look." I shrugged off my jacket and pulled the sleeve of my shirt away from my shoulder, where the bite mark on my shoulder still faintly burned.

"You told me that was your weasel."

"Ferret. And I lied. It was Jen."

"She...bit you?"

"Yeah, and I still don't know why. But she let me live. And trust me, Chip. I'm not lying." I let my sleeve slide back into place. "When she feeds, she's totally indestructible. And she hasn't fed since...since Colin. So she's really, really hungry."

"And you think she's going to get someone at the dance."

I took in a deep breath. Okay, here was the hard part. Well maybe not. Telling Chip all of this had been hard enough. This was more like the hardER part.

"No. I think she's going after you, specifically."

Chip turned away from me. "Listen, Needy. I want to believe you. I really do. But what you're saying is totally impossible."

"No, it's not, Chip!" I wailed, my voice rising a frantic octave.

"Yeah, it kind of is. And I think you've been under a whole lot of stress lately. We all have. So I think you're trying to come up with something to explain how you feel."

"Really, Chip?" I barked out a furious laugh. "You think this is some sick fantasy of mine? Do you know what I've been through?"

"I'm sorry Needy. I'm sorry I can't be better about this." He was grinding his teeth together, eyes on the grass beneath his sneakers. "But I can't indulge you in this. It's not good for you."

I turned around and punched the first thing I saw, which turned out to be the metal bar holding one section of the bleachers up. I cursed as I pulled my throbbing hand away. The skin had been scraped raw from the metal, and a few beads of blood dotted my knuckles.

"Here, let me help you."

I swatted Chip's hand away. "I don't need your help, Chip." The words were coming out faster than I could contain them. I felt like my words were black and spiny, like the bile Jennifer had puked up the first night she came back. They were ugly and they were painful and I knew I couldn't stop myself from saying them. "I don't need you to believe me. You obviously think I'm crazy. So thanks. Thanks a whole freaking lot."

"Needy, I didn't mean it like that!" he growled in frustration. He grabbed me by the elbow. "Please, don't think I'm trying to be a giant douche or anything. I just don't want you to go off like this. I want you to face reality. Whether or not you want to believe it, some creep is going around killing guys. That sucks, but it's also reality. It's also the real, logical explanation, and we can't run from it, no matter how much we want to."

I opened my mouth to say more mean, spiny words, but my throat closed off as tears gathered in the corners of my eyes. I looked at Chip, saw his big eyes and the hair his mom cut and his underground band t-shirt. I saw a boy I had once loved. A boy who deserved a lot better than me.

"You're a great guy, Chip." I told him. "And I think I can forgive you, if you give me some time. I think you shouldn't go to the dance, though. For both of our safety. You don't have to believe me, but please don't go to that dance."

With that, I slid his hand off my arm and walked away, too scared and too sad and too angry to look back and see if he was watching me go. A part of me insisted I had done something really stupid, and another part of me argued that I had done something good.

The trouble was, I didn't know which part was right.

...

I saw lots of faces. My parents'. Jonas'. Ahmed's. My friends, back at school. They whispered words to me, words I couldn't hear because it felt like I had cotton in my ears, muffling every sound.

When I reached out for them, they backed away into the shadows and melted into the forest.

Eventually, I saw Jennifer. She was naked, save for a pair of fuck-me high heels. Her hair was uncombed, wild and tangled and matted about her shoulders. Dirt covered her skin and her face. She smiled at me, and I saw the blood staining her teeth.

"Hey, Colin."

I pressed my head against the trunk of the tree I was leaning on. "Are you...really here?" I croaked, unsure if this was another manifestation of my ravenous insanity or the real-deal Jennifer Fucking Check.

"Of course I am. Silly Collin. You're not a schizo." She sauntered over and patted me on the head, as though I were a dog. "But you are hungry, aren't you?"

Too weak to say anything smart back, I nodded.

"Did you try to attack Needy again?" she said. Her voice took on a much darker tone, and I knew this was a threat, not just a question.

"No. Honestly," I rasped.

Her face broke out into an eerily wide smile. "Good. You remembered."

"Remembered what?"

"That she's mine," she spat between closed teeth, still smiling. She knelt beside me and examined me for a moment. "Poor Colin. So weak and helpless."

"If you're going to kill me again, could you just get it over with?" I wheezed.

"I'm not going to kill you. That would be so formulaic of me."

"Look who's using big words."

"Shut up," she snarled, and I fell silent. "I actually came here to offer you something. Aren't I nice?"

"Offer me what?"

She extended an arm forward, and I spied a rough, jagged cut across her wrist. "Some of my blood. It'll make you stronger."

"Why would you want me to be stronger?" I leaned my head away so the smell of her blood wouldn't pervade my senses. She obviously hadn't fed in awhile, or she would have healed up instantly.

"Because I'd like a fair fight."

"A fair fight?"

"Yeah." She looked off into the dense canopy of evergreens. For a moment, I spied something pass over her face. Something darker and deeper than any of the emotions I had seen from her so far. When she turned back to me, her face was blank. "I can't do this much longer, Colin. It's too much. So I want it to be over soon."

My tired brain felt like an '80's computer, slowly whirring and clicking into place. "You want..."

"I want you to kill me." She looked down at her hands, and I saw her bare shoulders tremble a bit. "I want you to be the one because I killed you. I took something away from you that I can never give back. And I can't say I regret it, but I know you do. So I want to go out with a bang."

"You want me to fight you."

"Yes." She glanced at the sky. "The moon'll be waxing soon, and I'll be at my most powerful. Unless you feed, you'll be at your weakest. That's why I want you to take some of my blood. You'll be really strong for awhile, and so we can have a fight. A fight to the death." Her eyes met mine through her curtain of bramble-filled hair. "One of us will die."

The ground seemed like it was tipping under me, like reality was slipping away. I knew this feeling all too well. It seemed as though it had been coming in and out of my life since the first night I came back to life.

I watched the trees. Bluebirds hopped between branches. Spruce needles carpeted the ground. A few yards away, a doe led her babies to a pool. Centipedes slithered through the forest floor.

There was life all around me, and creatures like me and Jennifer did nothing but end it.

If I fought Jennifer, I could die, but if it prevented me from hurting Needy, then so be it.

"I'll do it."

She inched her arm closer to my face. "Great. Now drink up."

I closed my mouth over the cut and let the red tide ebb into my mouth.

A/N: Wow, Colin really is emo, offering to do that. I guess I just wanted to bring a less villainous, bitchy side of Jen into the story. I wanted her to have some guilt over what she'd done. But she doesn't know exactly how she's feeling or what to do about it, so she decides to just take herself out of the equation. Still, I wanted to stir up a little sympathy for her. Anyway, I'm rambling. I hope you like the re-write of the scene between Needy and Colin. It's probably pretty different from the one in the movie, but hell, that's what fanfiction's for! R&R pleeeeeaaaassseeee!