Chapter 006: Of the Weak Willed and Weak Minded

The following morning, Vandal awoke to the sound of his coffee machine and multiple voices wishing him a good morning. He groaned. The effects weren't wearing off. Why weren't they?

He checked the time. It was super early. The sun wouldn't be up for a few more hours at least. Miss Voerman hadn't sent any new schedules yet, so Hannah was right to be up. It was about 10 minutes until his alarm would have gone off.

He stretched on his bed and then got up, threw on underwear, some sweatpants and a t-shirt and went to the kitchen.

"Good morning, Hannah," he grinned. "What are you doing up?"

She turned and he immediately noticed that she didn't look so good. There were dark circles under her eyes. "Good morning, Vandal. I couldn't sleep… Sorry I woke you up."

"It's fine. Alarm would have gone off in a few minutes anyway." He moved over and got a second cup from the cupboard. "Nightmares?"

She nodded.

"Sorry to hear that." He sat down at the table and motioned for Hannah to sit with him while they waited for the coffee to brew. "Want to talk about it?"

She only gave a weak smile. "Thanks, but I don't think so." She changed the subject. "When do you leave for work?"

"In an hour and a half. How's your schedule looking for today?"

"Not so good. Have two of my least favorite customers in my book today," she grimaced.

"You can come here anytime you want," he offered.

"Thanks. If I feel like crashing here later, I'll text you to see if you're home."

He could tell she appreciated it. "You're welcome." He got up and poured them both their coffee. "Maybe we'll both feel better after this."

They drank in silence. But for him, it wasn't quiet. The whispers in the back of his head wouldn't shut up.

He would probably go up to the third floor before the start of his shift. He kind of wanted to see if his incident with Heather and its aftermath had left a disturbance in the monotonous routine of the Clinic. He hoped it had. He liked chaos when he had created it.

They finished their breakfast and cleaned off the table.

Hannah was at his door, ready to head home to get ready for her day as well. "I'll text you later. I hope your day goes well," she smiled at him.

"And I hope yours won't be all that awful," he answered with a grin.
She kissed him goodbye. "I'll see you soon, Vandal."

'She won't. But you might see her.'

"See you soon, princess."

With a thud, the door closed. He would take a shower now.

He chucked his clothes into the laundry. He turned on the water and hoped it would wash away the voices in his head.

He took a deep breath as the water ran over him and concentrated on it streaming down his body. He tried to relax.

'Why are you unhappy? You should be ecstatic!' one of the female voices laughed at him.

He ignored her.

'He's clearly unhappy that Hannah left. She 'left him'.' A different voice spoke.

'She'll not come back. He let her go.'

'Maybe it's for the better?'

'No it isn't!'

'How could you have let her go?!'

'HOW COULD YOU?!' the voice screamed at him.

'Moron!'

'Idiot!' another male voice hissed.

'You will lose someone you care about a second time.' 'You will lose her, just as you have your sister.' The voices started distorting in his head. 'You'll learn to enjoy it.' 'You'll stop caring.' 'You'll learn to love us and then you don't need anything else ever again.' 'You will love your loneliness.'

'And you will be as dead and cold inside as all of them.'

'Dead. Dead. Dead.'

'Everything gone, everything you ever loved, enjoyed, cherished. Gone. You have no reason to live. You-'

"SHUT UP!" Vandal let out an agonized scream. "Leave me the fuck alone! I don't want to hear any of this!" They started laughing at him.

'Kill yourself! It will stop the pain you're feeling,' the voices sneered.

He had never thought about it before. Ever. Not even after his sister had died. Just last night he had agreed that he thought of it as weak, now he was doubting that.

The voices kept laughing, louder and louder.

'Do it! Do it!' they chimed.

'You'd never do it.'

'You're so selfish! You should do the world a favor.'

'Your sister would love to see you dead, trust me. She would be so happy you finally joined her,' the demon voice pressed.

Vandal felt a sharp pain in his knees and realized they had buckled under him and hit the floor of the shower with enough force that he was bleeding. He started crying. His tears blended with the water and blood and flowed down the drain. He hadn't cried since he was very, very young and while he was crying, the voices faded. There was complete silence, he could hear nothing but the sound of his own whimpering and weeping. He felt incredibly empty all of a sudden. The pain he had felt earlier that was tearing his chest apart had vanished and left a gaping hole. A black void.

The voices were fucking liars, Vandal told himself, as he sat back against the wall, water still spilling over him. They were 'liars' and he would fucking 'end them'. He would go to Miss Voerman and demand to know, what the fuck she had drugged him with! He would take Heather with him. He was sure she'd help if he asked, even if it was just because she would probably now be too scared to refuse after what had happened. Even with her broken mental state she couldn't possibly make things worse than they were.

He felt the hole fill up with hate, felt it overflow like a pot of boiling water and run into his veins, heating him up from inside.

That entitled bitch thought she could fuck with him? Use him as a guinea pig? She would pay for that. He didn't care if it cost him his job. He was furious. Livid.

He got up from the shower floor and grasped the faucet to turn off the water.

"She will pay," Vandal spoke to no one and his voice shook with anger.

His hand shut tighter around the handle. "She's gonna regret this. I will make sure of that." And with one quick jerk, he pushed the handle back and the water stopped, the rest of it dripping over him and the steam from the hot stream slowly clearing.

He got out and dried himself off, pulled on underwear, got his jeans and a t-shirt, grabbed his keys and his phone and headed for the hospital.

His mood didn't improve when he saw who was manning the reception at the mental wing when he entered.

"Vandal," Lizzy said, clearly surprised to find him here. "What can I do for you?"

"I need to see Heather," he bluntly answered.

Lizzy's face fell. "We found her unconscious in her room. I don't think it's a good idea. She's having an episode. Told us she was choked."

Didn't Heather mention his name? Or was Lizzy just keeping that information from him?

"I just need five minutes to talk with her," he pressed. "It's important."

Lizzy sighed. "Okay, fine." She reached into a drawer and pulled out the keys to Heather's wing. "Five minutes. If she doesn't want to talk to you, you have to leave." She got up and lead him down the hallway and knocked on Heather's door.

Heather didn't answer, so Lizzy cracked it open a bit.

The door swung open and Lizzy was almost thrown into the room by the sudden force. She hadn't let go of the handle quick enough.

Heather's blazing green eyes stared at her and she shouted, "Leave me the fuck alone! I don't want to see your face again after what you said, you stupid bitch!"

Vandal stared. What the hell had happened between these two while he was gone?

"Heather, please stay calm," Lizzy spoke.

The palm of Heather's hand met the side of Lizzy's face. "Fuck you! You talked shit about me behind my back! You COWARD! Too much of a pussy to tell it to my face!"

The impact had left Lizzy's cheek bright red and she looked close to crying. Her eyes were wet.

It was now, that Heather noticed that he was there too. She screamed at Lizzy, "I hope he KILLS you!"

He didn't know why, but her comment made him laugh and his laughter held the slightest hint of derangement in it. Lizzy didn't seem to hear that, but Heather picked up on it, because she was now suddenly smiling in her rage. "You're so dead, you stupid little bitch. Needle in your neck, neck, neck!" She was almost singing now.

"I know why you're here," Heather told Vandal, suddenly ignoring Lizzy completely.

Lizzy turned and without more than a mumbled, "I'll leave you two alone. I'll be back when the time's over," she left.

Vandal closed the door behind him as he entered the now all too familiar room. "Do you now?" he mocked.

"You wanna go to the club to find Miss Voerman," she answered, correctly. "And you want me to come with you." She let out another laugh. "Good luck making that happen. They will never let me out."

"They don't have to. We'll just leave." He knew there was no one but Lizzy on the floor at this time. "Wait here, I'll drug Lizzy with a high dose of sleep meds and when she's out, we'll be on our way."

Heather actually considered it. "Well that bitch deserves it after all…" It didn't take another few seconds until she had made up her mind. "I'm in."

"That was easy," he chuckled. "I'm noticing you're not scared, even after what I did to you."

"You couldn't help it. I'm not actually worried that you're gonna kill me to be honest… Something would have stopped you."

Nothing would have stopped him, deep down, he knew. But if it gave Heather peace of mind, he wouldn't take it from her. Not yet.

Without another word, he left Heather's room and walked up to the reception, where Lizzy was sitting, still holding her cheek. Heather had hit her with immense force.

She looked at him, and her eyes were red. He was sure she had cried once she had walked out the door.

"Do you need a painkiller?" Vandal asked friendly. "I could bring you one and a glass of water." He made it sound like he felt sorry for her. But of course, he didn't. He was enjoying seeing her like this.

Lizzy hesitated, but then agreed. She looked surprised. "Thank you, that would be nice."

'Stupid girl.'

"I'll be back in a minute." And with that, he went downstairs, hoping he wouldn't run into anyone on the first floor.

He snuck into the medicine storage and looked through the shelf until he had found what he was looking for. A pack of Triazolam tablets. It would put her to sleep for about 1 to 2 hours.

He took a strip of them out and placed it in a pack of Ibuprofen. Lizzy would not notice the swapped tablets, he would make sure of that. He was good at distracting people.

Back upstairs, he brought her the glass of water and handed her the pack. "Heather clearly doesn't like you," he smirked. "I hope the painkiller helps. Maybe you should take two. It looks painful. Your cheek is practically swelling right now."

Without the slightest hint of mistrust, Lizzy popped two of the tablets and chugged them with water.

He discreetly took the pack back into his pocket. Now all he had to do was wait until she was out cold. It wouldn't take long. And indeed, about 10 minutes later, Lizzy's head started to slump and eventually, she rested it on her arms on the desk.

Vandal immediately got Heather. "Come on! We got a good hour or two before she wakes up again."

She put on her shoes and pulled a blue sweater over the yellow t-shirt she was wearing.

They hurried along the hallway and out of the mental wing. Vandal made sure they exited through the blood bank.

"I don't think you'll like what she'll tell you if she's there," Heather let him know as they came out of the alleyway and onto the main street.

He didn't care. He wanted answers. He could handle them, even if they were unpleasant.

"How's your head," Heather asked him. "I keep hallucinating. Random images and sounds. It's not going away."

Just like him. "Same." The Asylum came into view down the street.

"We're about to step into the beast's lair."

He ignored her. He 'needed' to know what she had done to him. If he had to go to war with that woman to find out, so be it.

'She'll be so happy to see you.'

Oh, she wouldn't be, she definitely wouldn't be once he started tearing into her. He had made up his mind to verbally destroy her.

The voices in his head laughed at his thoughts.

Once at the door, he didn't stop and went straight in and to the bartender. "I need to see Therese Voerman. Is she here?" He didn't bother to introduce himself.

The bartender raised his eyebrow and questioned, "You're the guy who's supposed to bring stuff from the hospital, right?"

He nodded. "I am. Name's Vandal Cleaver."

"I'm Cal. I'll send you up. But if I remember correctly Miss Voerman said you'd be over tomorrow." He shrugged. "Take the elevator. She's in her office."

Vandal nodded to Heather and let Cal know that she had to accompany him.

"Fine."

"Please, come in," Miss Voerman's voice rang out. She smiled as she saw Vandal and Heather enter. "I'm delighted to see you both. How can I help you?"

Heather stood next to Vandal, staring at the ground. He spoke and surprised himself by how calm he sounded. "Well, I have a few questions about that cup of coffee that you drugged."

Her smile was brilliant to him and her laugh like music. Somehow all of the rage had suddenly left him. "Ask away."

She wasn't even denying it?

"I want to know what was in it."

Therese's eyes flicked to Heather, then back to him. "I think she already told you, but you didn't believe her."

This was absurd. Heather had told him there had been blood in it. "Of course I didn't. She was in no sound state of mind."

She stepped closer. Why did he feel threatened all of a sudden?

"She was telling the truth. I spiked the cup with my blood." She smiled wider, exposing a row of shining white teeth. "I did this, to ensure you'd come back to me." She rolled up the sleeve of her blouse. "To ensure your loyalty."

Next to him, Heather was starting to mumble, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," over and over again.

Miss Voerman continued, "Tell me, have you felt stronger lately? Less tired? Maybe broken something that you normally wouldn't have been able to break? Heard things you normally wouldn't be able to hear?"

She was right. He remembered the dent he had left in the floor. The footsteps Hannah hadn't heard on the pier.

Her eyes were on him, and for some reason, he felt like he couldn't lie to her. "I have."

"If you continue working with me, I'll let you in on a secret. You can keep a secret, right?"

His head felt foggy. "Yes."

"Good."

Vandal felt his face slip into a look of disbelief and fear as two of Miss Voerman's teeth changed. They were elongating, turning into fangs.

Heather was still motionless beside him. She wasn't reacting to anything that was happening, as if she was in a trance.

Was he hallucinating? This couldn't be real! Vampires didn't exist!

'They do. You belong to her, just like we do.'

No. No, they were lying! This was a trick!

With her ivory fangs, Miss Voerman bit her wrist and blood poured out of the punctures. "Have a sip, Vandal. It'll erase the doubt. It'll make you feel better than you could ever feel."

When he didn't immediately move, she stepped closer and her steel gray eyes bored into him like a dagger into flesh. He felt like she wasn't just looking at him, she was seeing 'all of him'. "Drink!" The command was forceful and sharp.

The smell of her blood was intoxicating. On top of it, he felt a pull in his head. He felt like he had lost all control of his senses. The single word filled his head to the point of bursting. It hurt. He shouldn't be disappointing her. He couldn't disappoint her. She was crushing his will with hers. And the voices, they were screaming in his head.

'DRINK OR DIE! DRINK OR DIE! DRINK OR DIE!' They came in waves, rising in volume, fading out again, then rising again. Over and over. 'Drink to feel alive. To feel loved. To become so much more than you were…' They made him dizzy.

Before he knew what he was doing, he had already put his lips to her wrist and was gulping the tepid liquid down like a man dying of thirst. Every time he swallowed, he felt better, stronger, more alive, before a sharp pain in his arm sent him reeling backwards.

Miss Voerman's fingers were dripping with his blood. She had cut into his arm with her nails like a knife would. "Heal yourself," she demanded. "Use a drop of the blood you just drank. Feel the heat inside you and direct it towards the burning of your wound."

It was almost instinctive. And in awe, Vandal watched the cut close itself within seconds.

"Do not do this too often, or you will use up all of it. You have to keep a bit of the blood in your system. It will prevent you from aging. I will have you drink again in a week and then every month to maintain this state," Miss Voerman stated calmly. "And now that you know what I am, make sure that no one else ever hears about this. If anyone did, I would have to kill you. And believe me, it would be easy."

He believed her. He believed every word. If he hadn't seen and felt this himself, he'd have called her mad right then and there.

And Heather. She had known! She must have known all along!

His head snapped to her. "You knew, didn't you?" he growled.

Heather turned to him in slow motion. Her face ridden with guilt. "I knew. I wasn't allowed to speak about it. Before you came, Kevin told me you would and he told me to come with you. To make sure you would go to her."

Vandal nearly jumped when someone behind them spoke, "And you did well, Heather dear." Just as he turned, Kevin suddenly appeared in the room.

"The blood you'll be selling," Miss Voerman's voice made his head snap back to her immediately. He felt an emotion run through him, that was very similar to when he was with Hannah, but it was mixed with something else. Rage and the feeling of betrayal. Something in him had changed. Deep down he knew, he had made a mistake by drinking her blood, and he also knew he never had a say in it. Not really. He couldn't have refused. "You will be selling to other vampires, kindred, that's our word for them. As for you: A human who drinks vampire blood is a ghoul. You're stronger, faster and more resistant to injury now. But make no mistake, one slash to the throat can still mean the difference between existence or not."

"I understand." He still had questions about the blood samples he was supposed to bring to her every three days.

"Ask," Miss Voerman told him. She had sensed it.

"What do you need Heather's blood samples for?"

"Well, that information is something I cannot share with you just yet. Be assured however, that I will in a month's time, after we ran some tests." She turned to Kevin. "Since Heather was staying at the mental ward of the clinic until now, I need to ask if it would bother you if she stayed there for a while longer."

"I would prefer if she came and lived at my place. It isn't far from the hospital and she could go to the blood bank every three days on her own," Kevin let her know.

"Alright." Her attention was back on Vandal. "How did you get her out of the mental wing?"

"I drugged Lizzy with sleeping pills," he grinned. "She won't remember much."

Therese nodded. "Well, I will handle the matter personally. You're to go to work as usual today, then take the rest of the week off and come back in on Saturday, like we discussed."

"Of course. Thank you, Miss Voerman," Vandal said and didn't recognize his own voice. He never spoke like this. He sounded 'submissive'.

WIth a nodded goodbye, Kevin went for the door. Heather automatically followed him and as she passed Vandal, she stopped and spoke, "I'm sorry. I guess neither of us ever had a say in this. But now at least, you'll get to do all the things you could never try before, but wanted to…"

The voices in his head happily laughed, 'She's right.'

How would she know about that? He didn't really care. "See you tomorrow, Heather."

A weak smile settled on her lips. "See ya."

The door closed behind them and there was a long moment of silence in the room.

"Vandal?"

Her voice sent a shiver down his spine. "Yes, Miss Voerman?" He noticed that she had apparently licked his blood off her fingers.

"I will try to keep Jeanette away from you. She's my sister and she's usually downstairs at the club when I'm out inspecting my ventures. Do not indulge her. She usually tries to make people dance on her leash. If you ask for me and she tells you I'm not there, just leave. She can be quite unpredictable and she likes to play people."

"Understood."

"Very well, now leave me. The sun will be up soon and I need to settle some matters before I go to rest."

She held the door for him. "Oh and one more thing. The voices you are probably hearing... They're part of my clan's bloodline. You'll get used to them."

With a quiet thud, it closed behind him, leaving him with a slight sting of pain at being sent away in his heart that was moments later overtaken by a surge of hate for her even being able to make him feel this way.

When Vandal finally pulled into his apartment after his shift had ended, he felt more normal again. Work had been boring and uneventful. None of his coworkers had messed up in any way and none of the morons from upstairs had bothered him.

All in all, the day had gone fine. Well, apart from what had happened before dawn. He was surprised however, that it didn't really phase him. It made 'sense'. If he had to explain it to someone else, he probably wouldn't even be able to. It was like something had lifted a veil from his mind and now everything was a lot clearer.

The remainder of the evening he spent just like any other. Well almost. He desperately tried to ignore the rush of different emotions he was feeling. Tried not to wage a war in his own head. With himself, and the voices.

Before long, he decided that it would probably be better to go to sleep. Secretly he hoped that nothing would haunt him in his dreams.

The light skinned young woman with short, curly black hair was leading them deeper into the industrial area.

They turned a corner and she stopped, turned around and looked at the second female with blond hair that had been walking in front of Vandal, in between them. Then her eyes flicked to him and she started smiling in a way he could only describe as malicious.

He liked her smile. His tone was cold as he addressed the blond with her back turned to him. "You know she doesn't really care, don't you?"

She stood there, frozen for a moment and didn't answer. She was now scared.

"She doesn't care about you," Vandal repeated, taking a step and the woman turned, feeling him move closer.

His face was half hidden in shadows. The street lamp behind him made it hard to see for her.

"Did you hear me?" he asked, lowering his voice into almost a warning.

She did. But she didn't want to hear this. She felt like if she didn't reply, things would get worse. She just nodded.

He kept walking towards her and she withdrew from him. He, as well started smiling now. It spread across his lips into a look of menace and she knew that he wanted to harm her. He also knew that she believed every word he had said, even though she didn't want to.

"She makes you happy right?" There was a pause. Tears were welling up in her eyes now. She wanted him to stop talking and he wasn't having that. He didn't need a verbal reply from her. Her reaction was answer enough. "She does." He let out a short laugh and raised his hand.

The woman's back hit the wall of the alley they were standing in. She wanted to run, he felt it and as her head turned to her right to look for an escape route, he grabbed her wrist.

Her head snapped back to him. The fear clearly visible in her widened eyes.

"You're lying to yourself if you think that you make her happy as well. You're nothing to her. She could walk away and she wouldn't feel a thing." He pushed his face closer and in the low light his pupils dilated into two, great, black voids. They were like the sea at night. He could see she wanted to fall into them and never surface again. "You're worthless, just a distraction, something to pass time with, and once you've lost your usefulness, she will throw you away like a wrapper that's not needed anymore when you've eaten the food."

She was feeling empty. Lost. She didn't want to believe him, but she did. And he knew she was thinking that she shouldn't.

The young woman next to him started laughing. "Look at her face. She's so weak. Just break her beyond repair. It will be easy. I want to see it. I want to know what that looks like. Maybe she will kill herself."

He kept looking at the young woman he had trapped and said, "She won't. She's too scared to." He took her other wrist and pushed them both against the wall, hard. "You're too much of a coward to end your own suffering."

Pain changed her features. It hurt her. He was right. She wanted someone to save her from the monsters she saw in them, because she couldn't do it herself.

"Too much of a coward to fight," he whispered. He was almost physically hurting her now. "Look at you. Someone anyone could love? No. You haven't accomplished anything in life. You're a waste of space. A failure." He leaned in until he was sure she could feel his breath on her face. "Just end it." He let go of her wrists and placed his hands on her neck. "I can help."

She now had her hands free, but she was paralyzed with fear. She couldn't move even if she wanted to.

"We'd be doing everyone a favor."

He felt the words echo in her head. He hadn't put them there, they had already been, like a shadow. Like the shadow he was casting onto her now. The one from the street lamp behind them that made her want to disappear in its darkness, never to be seen again.

"I know, you know I'm right."

She didn't want to hear that.

"I can see it."

She closed her eyes for a moment, blackness surrounding her.

"Nobody will miss you." His voice distorted and cut into her like a knife. "You're utterly replaceable."

Vandal moved again, this time to take another step. He was pressing her into the wall with his whole weight. Her eyes snapped back open. She was crying silently. Tears were running down her cheeks.

"Yes, feel sorry for yourself, because there's no one who will do that for you."

His smile changed. Her face was still stained with tears. The bottomless pit of both despair and sadness in her eyes had faded into nothingness. They had left them almost dead. And like this, she was beautiful to him. "You're so pretty when you cry," he spoke almost lovingly.

From the side, the black haired commented, "No, she's not pretty at all. But you're right, her tears are beautiful, even if the rest of her isn't."

Vandal didn't look away from the woman he still had in his grasp. "Crying won't help you though. It won't make anyone care."

He knew, she knew he was right and she was defeated by that knowledge. He had broken her.

He let go and she slipped down the wall, wrapping her arms around her knees. From the back pocket of his jeans, he pulled a knife and held it out to the wreck of a woman sitting on the ground, with a smile still on his lips.

She took it without really knowing why.

"Do it," he said and waited.

The woman extends one of her arms and from underneath her skin, he could see writing surface on its own in black ink. It spelled out 'No'.

He began to speak again, but his words could no longer be heard. They were morphing into static.

To his side, the young woman turned into black smoke and disappeared. In front of him, the blond still sat motionless. The writing on her arm changing to 'Drained' before she started flickering in and out of existence. With every time she disappeared and reappeared she changed into a different person. All of them female, all of them with a different word written on their arm.

A smaller woman with brown hair, blue eyes and freckles. 'Stabbed'.

An Asian looking woman with long hair in a sequin dress. 'Drowned'.

A dark skinned woman in a green sweater. 'Shot'.

Another blond in a hoodie. 'Poisoned'.

An Indian girl in traditional clothing. 'Dismembered'.

They continued, switching from single words to almost full sentences. 'Pushed off a roof'. 'Run over by a car'. 'Bashed in skull'.

They kept switching, faster and faster, before they abruptly stopped and he recognized the black haired woman who had been standing beside him earlier. She raised her head and smirked at him almost arrogantly. The ink on her arm changed again.

'Beatrix'.

"Stand up," Vandal ordered her. "You don't get to sit down while I am doing all the work."

She obeyed, but she did so intentionally slow, just to defy him a little. She laughed and stepped right in front of him. "Uh, you big, bad meanie. What were you gonna do about it, huh? Pull me up by my hair?" she mocked.

"If I had to, yes," he growled.

"You wouldn't dare."

She flickered and was gone. He was now all alone in the alley and his own shadow seemed to grow and take a three dimensional form. An almost solid shadow version of himself.

It spoke with the voice of the demon. "Let go and relinquish your control. Give the beast what it wants. Let it take your soul and devour all that you are."

It moved and passed into him, burning him from the inside out like acid.

He screamed; the sound of it waking him up.