Author's Notes:
Hello again, everyone!
Thank you for your feedback, I'm glad the refreshes seem to be going over well. I think they are much better this time around; I have been working on Second Chance for almost a decade now and my writing has definitely improved over the years (at least I hope).
As before, there is some minor blood and gore in this chapter; it's nothing too explicit, but I just thought I would leave a warning here for those who need/want it.
Other than that, Chapter 24 is in the works—don't worry. ;)
Enjoy!
Sincerely,
Amaryllidinae
Ten
"YOU HAVE TO WAKE up now, Felicia," David smiled at me, his eyes betraying the hidden laughter in his voice.
"Wake up?" I repeated, thoroughly confused. "What do you mean, 'wake up'?" Staring quizzically back at David, I tried to make sense of what was going on. Why would he be telling me to wake up when I clearly wasn't sleeping?
"Wake up," David said again, a little more forcefully this time. Although he was still smiling, his mouth had set into a firm, frustrated line.
"I am awake," I shot back, resisting the urge to reach out and wave my hands in front of David's face to prove my point.
"C'mon, Felicia," he sighed, dropping all pretence of being amused. Without pause, David reached out and placed his hand firmly on my shoulder—the force of his grip making me flinch. He then proceeded to give me a rough shake as if I were comatose before him.
"What are you doing?" I barked, jarred by David's roughness. I tried to slip out from under his hand, but my limbs felt sluggish and heavy. Needless to say, I didn't make it far.
Instead of rising to match my tone, David's face crumpled slightly around the edges as a frantic sort of worry alighted in his eyes. "Wake up, Felicia," he half-pleaded, half-demanded, "this isn't funny." I barely had time to inhale to snap back at him before David placed his free hand on my other shoulder and shook me again.
"Stop it, David!" I cried, trying (and failing) to pull away from him.
"Wake up," David commanded now, pulling me within inches of his face. Unable to move away, I could do nothing more than stare at him, my confusion and frustration mirrored before me.
"What are you talking about?" I hissed, struggling futilely against David's grip. I didn't gain an inch.
"Wake up, Felicia," he growled back, giving me another hard shake. "Wake up!"
"I. Am. AWAKE," I nearly screamed at David, frustrated to the point of boiling over. Not only was I being manhandled unnecessarily, but I was also being ignored. Not a good combination in any circumstance.
"Wake up," David commanded again, shaking me so violently that my head rocked backwards and collided with something hard.
o-o-o-o
My eyes snapped open just as David dropped his hands from my shoulders. He was very close to me, watching my eyes dart around him as I tried to place where I was. His face melted into a mask of guarded relief when I finally met his gaze. "Took you long enough," David sighed before standing upright. I couldn't help but notice the genuine relief that nipped at the fringes of his words.
After another cursory look around, I registered the fact that I was leaning against a large boulder. The ocean wasn't more than five meters away—I could hear the waves breaking on the shore—which explained why my hands were covered in sand. That being said, I still had absolutely no clue where I was or how I had gotten here. The last thing I clearly remembered was being held in David's arms after collapsing on the boardwalk. "What's going on? Where are we?" I asked, confused, as I rubbed the back of my head. I couldn't figure out why it was so sore; it felt like someone had smacked me over the head with a brick.
"You fell asleep," David muttered as he dusted away the debris that clung to his legs. Although he was trying to act like nothing was wrong, I could see by the terseness of his movements that he wasn't as calm as he wanted me to believe.
"You say that like it's an impossibility," I muttered under my breath, still massaging the back of my head. It throbbed with renewed vigour as I sat in the sand; I was in no hurry to try and move—I clearly remembered where that had landed me the last time I tried to stand. Maybe that's why I felt like I had been sucker punched…
David cast me a stony glare in lieu of a response before glancing quickly over his shoulder. Following his gaze, I could see Dwayne, Marko, and Paul milling around a little way down the beach. They looked to be talking excitedly about something in the distance; every so often, one of them would point at whatever they could see, almost as if they were discussing battle plans. "Can you walk?" David asked suddenly, making me jump. I had been so completely absorbed in watching the others that I had momentarily forgotten I wasn't alone.
"I think so," I replied, uncertain of the truth of my words; I wasn't sure if I could stand, let alone walk. My body (legs definitely included) still ached fiercely despite the fact that I was sitting. After giving my head one last quick rub, I tried to get to my feet. Of course, I failed miserably: as I forced my knees to bend and my legs bear my weight, my muscles instantly rebelled. Every inch of me was suddenly on pins and needles, the sensation racing over me from toe to head in a horrible wave. Left numb all over, I had to brace myself on the hulking rock behind me to keep from toppling ass over tea kettle.
"Are you gonna be okay?" David asked calmly, never once looking at me. He was staring intently in the direction of the others, watching them with a bleakly-determined look on his face.
Yeah, I'll be just peachy. My body feels like its cannibalizing itself, but I'll be fine… "Yup," I grunted, my teeth ground tightly together, as I forced myself to stop leaning on the rock. Pain stabbed up and down my legs, but I remained standing. Mentally bracing myself, I took a tentative step away from the boulder and had to stifle a groan as every part of my body that was even remotely involved in walking tried to rip itself apart. Instead of stopping—and trust me, I really felt like stopping—I kept shuffling, one foot in front of the other, until I had eventually moved an entire metre away from where I started.
"Do you want a hand?" David chuckled when I breezed past him at a rather good clip. And by that, I mean 'shambled onward at slightly faster than a gimped hobble'.
"I've made it this far" I muttered as I trudged through the sand towards the others, "I'll make it the rest of the way." David trailed after me as I limped forward, hovering as you would around your elderly grandmother who always insisted on going to Bingo without using her walker.
"Suit yourself," he laughed, quietly. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw David shake his head; he was smiling reservedly, laughing at my expense despite his exasperation.
Trudging on forward, I focused on my destination, willing myself to make it to the others without falling to my knees. The silence that had fallen between David and me was oppressive: he carried a sense of dread about him as he walked, silent as a ghost, just behind me. It made the hairs on the back neck stand on end. "What's up ahead that's so special?" I asked as casually as I could despite the fact that my breath was laboured with the effort it took to walk. I Each step was pure torture, but I obstinately pushed on.
"You'll see soon enough," David replied, his voice surprisingly monotone—I instantly felt as though I was a condemned criminal being escorted towards the gallows. Casting a cautious glance back at him, I could see that David's face was drawn tight with some internal conflict. His eyes looked tired and defeated, but the hard set of his mouth was chillingly resolute.
"I hate surprises," I muttered unenthusiastically, unable to look at him any longer. My gut instinct screamed at me to flee, but I didn't have the energy to. It was taking everything I had to keep myself upright, not to mention walk. If I tried to run in any direction other than towards the others, I knew that David would stop me. I wouldn't be able to fight him off.
"That makes two of us," David chuckled wryly.
"Then tell me what's going on."
"Would if I could."
Liar.
"You don't want to know," David sighed to himself, his voice so soft I was unsure I even heard him.
"What?" I asked quietly, turning back to stare aporetically at him. I knew I had really heard him speak when worry lighted his eyes. Apparently, someone had accidentally used their 'outside' voice instead of their 'inside' voice… I could have sworn that 'oh, shit' was plastered across David's face, but he didn't stick around long enough for me to get a proper look. In fact, he seemed so flustered that he forgot that I was a little 'unsteady' on my feet.
"I didn't say anything," he snapped, pushing past me. Of course, I fell over because of him; my knees and palms tingled harshly when I hit the ground. Curling my fingers into the sand to vent some of my frustration, I stared after David as he walked away.
Yeah, just keep walking. Don't come running to help me or anything; you only pushed me over, but I don't want to make work for you… "Sure you didn't," I grumbled.
"Get up," he called angrily over his shoulder.
"Ass," I fumed, glaring at his retreating figure.
It took a minute, but I eventually pulled myself back upright. After a few steadying breaths, I managed to continue onward, dying a little with every step. And trust me, I was just as amazed as the others were when I finally tottered into the proximity of the group.
"I thought you were never going to make it," Paul laughed, clapping me on the shoulder.
Was it a bad thing that I really didn't feel his hand on me? "Same here," I winced with a frown. "Let go of me."
Paul flashed me his usual wide grin. "Still grumpy, hm?"
If I was feeling better, I probably would have grinned back. "I have every right to be."
"Not for long, you won't," Marko teased from behind his hand, his nails between his teeth as per usual.
"And why is that?" I asked sceptically. There was precious little on the face of the planet that could possibly begin to make me feel better… Other than maybe a long, hot bath or a bullet to the temple. Whichever came first.
Marko and Paul shared an excited glance and a laugh instead of answering me. I didn't like the wicked edge that the sound carried; it made my skin crawl.
"… She's going to be a hindrance more than anything," I heard Dwayne hiss to David under the din Marko and Paul were making. The two of them were standing apart from the rest of us and arguing about, well, me. I was the only 'she' in sight, so it only made sense that I was who Dwayne was griping over. I pretended to listen to what Marko and Paul were chattering about as I eavesdropped.
"Well, I don't really have a choice," David snarled. He was glaring at something in the distance, his eyes reflecting the moonlight as they scanned the horizon.
Dwayne sighed heavily, the chains on his jeans jingling as he shifted his weight repeatedly. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that he was riled up. "She can hardly walk, David!"
"She'll be fine. Once we get closer—"
"—This isn't normal—she's not normal!" Dwayne interrupted furiously. "None of us ever had it this bad; something's wrong. Stop trying to fool yourself."
It was David's turn to let out a long sigh. "I'm not."
"You're hopeless," Dwayne laughed, the sound acidic.
"You should get your facts straight before you start talking," David snapped back.
"I know the facts better than I'd like."
"You're getting a little out of line, Dwayne."
"Don't pull that shit on me, David. I've known you for long enough to tell you the problem is that you need to get your priorities straight. I don't care—"
"—That's enough," David snarled.
The two of them fell silent for a moment. There was no sound on the beach save for Marko and Paul's excited whispers. I tried to pay attention to them, but I couldn't make myself focus. After a minute, the only thing I had gleaned from their conversation was that they were talking about a party.
"No," David said suddenly, "that has nothing to do with this."
… Wait, did I miss something?
Dwayne scoffed, continuing their conversation like David hadn't just said something completely random. "You're in way over your fucking head—and dragging the rest of us down with you."
"I can handle her—and him. Nobody knows him better than I do; we just have to be patient and let him play his stupid game. He'll slip up eventually."
Another extended paused filled their conversation, neither boy looking at the other.
"When have I ever let you down?" David retorted briskly and out of the blue.
"Fine, I'll give you that," Dwayne grumbled begrudgingly.
I could hear David's eyes roll through his voice. "Your sincerity is killing me…"
"You're welcome," Dwayne scoffed. "If you're so 'in control' of the situation, then, what's your plan?"
David let out a quick humourless laugh. "The plan is that there is no plan. I can't make a move yet; we have to deal with Felicia first."
"Well that's just fucking great," Dwayne spat before storming off into the distance, muttering darkly under his breath.
"Ground control to Major Flic," Paul laughed as he waved his hand back and forth in front of my eyes.
I jumped when his palm brushed my nose. "Yeah—what?" I said quickly, ignoring Marko and Paul when they snickered at my expense.
"You're a total space-case," Marko smiled. On any other occasion I probably would have argued with him but, for once, he was right. I couldn't stop thinking about the disjointed conversation that David and Dwayne had just had. Maybe I had missed what he had said, but I could have sworn on my father that David had responded to Dwayne's silence as if he had clearly been asked a question—twice. I mean, maybe the two of them had been whispering so I couldn't hear them (David did seem to have the uncanny ability to tell when I was snooping), but that seemed unlikely. And, actually, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that David did that a lot—answer questions, and sometimes mention things, I had never expressly said aloud. For example, I had never told David that I was going to visit Max the night after Dwayne busted my lip open; he and the others had just shown up outside the door of the VideoMax, unannounced. After that, when had I ever told him my last name? Never, obviously, but he had used to goad me into crawling underneath the trestle that same night.
"She's totally ignoring you, dude," Paul called over to David, snapping me out of my silent reverie.
Looking up frantically as though I had fallen asleep in class only to be called on by the teacher, I locked eyes with David. He was staring at me intently, the usual silent smirk in his eyes replaced by a cold wariness that made goosebumps pop up across my body. Although he never spoke, I could feel that he was somehow aware of the conjectures I had been drawing—and that he didn't like it. "Follow me," David commanded directly at me, his voice tight with an air of annoyed repetition. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stalked in the direction that Dwayne had fled. Marko and Paul followed suit, racing ahead of me like two kids who were eager to make it to the corner store to spend their allowance.
I stood still for a moment, watching the others disappear into the distance. Although I felt somehow compelled to follow after them, something inside of me was resisting the urge and kept me frozen in place. I felt as if I was tied between two enormous ropes, being pulled in two directions at once: one drew me after David, the other… The other pulled me to something else. Something equally as frightening and strange, but, at the same time, something that felt familiar—as if it had always been a part of me, but I couldn't grasp onto it until now. I felt out of balance as I stood there, statue-like as my body continued its war against itself, watching the figures of my so-called 'friends' as they advanced farther away into the darkness. I wanted to follow after David, but I couldn't justify why. My gut screamed at me that taking another step forward meant that I was advancing into a darkness that I couldn't return from—that I would have to abandon the half of me that I had only just acknowledged. I had no idea why, but I knew in my heart of hearts that this other part of me could not exist in the same space as the world that David seemed to occupy, even though it felt like they were on the same otherworldly plain.
Fear overtook me swiftly. Perhaps this was what Melany had meant when she told me that I would have to make two choices: one that would change how I saw the world and one that would change how I saw myself. Something about this moment in time felt monumental—as if I was standing at the precipice of a gaping hole that had existed on the fringes of my life for as long as I could remember. A step backwards away from the edge would bring me closer to this other thing that felt as intrinsic to my person as breathing; a step forward into the consuming darkness meant accepting something that was foreign to me, but also newly tied to my very soul. I would have to make a choice between the two, forsaking one for the other—and changing how I saw myself forever. There would be no going back.
Reaching hesitantly into my pocket, I pulled out my father's father's lighter and held tightly onto it as you would a life preserver amidst a sea of indecision. I could feel the familiar pattern as it pressed into my flesh, the metal cool against the bruised and battered skin that supported it. Uncurling my fingers, I stared at the little silver keepsake, only to really start focusing on my palm: not a night ago, I had shredded my hand to ribbons when I had accidentally broken a glass countertop at the VideoMax… And yet, as I looked at the scabbed and fading hints of my injuries as they poked out from behind my lighter, I would have sworn the incident happened a week or more ago. Perplexed, I flexed my hand again: although the action made my fingers ache as if someone was trying to flay me alive, the pain was very different from that of a healing cut (or 'cuts' in my case). It didn't make any sense: how could such deep, angry wounds have healed so much in so short a time?
"Felicia," David suddenly called, his voice drawing my attention like the haunting chime of a bell. Looking up from my confoundingly healed hand, I stared at him through the dark, our eyes snapping together like magnets despite the distance. "Come here," he commanded dismally, his shrewd stare easily bridging the space between us to look through me to my core. Moving suddenly and despite myself, I winced with every step; my legs were numb with pain, the pins and needles that seemed to cover them stabbing bitterly down to my bones with each centimetre of progress I made. But even though I tried to halt, to keep still, to collapse in a heap, I couldn't make myself quit putting one foot down surely in front of the other. Inching forward as if on autopilot, I eventually reached the others; standing before them on more even ground, the boys were just ahead of me below the crest of a small dune, intently watching something on the other side.
"… I want the dark haired one," Paul enthused as I tried to catch my breath.
"You're so picky," Dwayne scolded, never taking his eyes off what was just out of my sight.
Marko chuckled excitedly to himself, bouncing slightly up and down. "C'mon, let's go."
"Be patient," David ordered, though he sounded just as on-edge. I found myself not wanting to look at his face; his voice was off from its usual aloof tone—he sounded frightening.
"What's going on, David?" I asked more meekly than I had intended.
All four boys turned to look at me like they had just noticed I was there.
"Took you long enough," Paul grumbled.
"Sorry?" I asked slowly, confused by his unusual curtness. "Are we in some sort of hurry?"
"You ask too many questions," Paul continued, ranting. When he took a threatening step towards me, Dwayne placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, restraining him.
"Chill, man," Marko laughed, the sound hollow and joyless.
"No," Paul seethed, turning his directionless anger on the smaller boy. "I can't wait any longer!"
I guess this is how I had looked to everyone else earlier this evening. How embarrassing…
As if Paul's little emotional explosion was a cue, David finally decided to speak. "Do you trust me, Felicia?"
I stared at him, 'Are you shitting me?' practically scrawled across my face in large red letters. "What does that have to do with anything?"
David rolled his eyes impatiently. "Do you trust me?" he asked again.
"I guess—"
"—Good," he replied pleasantly, steamrolling over my words with his smile, the look of which reminded me of the grin a lion wears just before it's about to pounce on its kill. "Come with us."
"More walking?" I cried, exasperated.
"It's not far," David chuckled, his eyes flashing somewhat cruelly in the flickering light that was spilling over the crest of the dune he was standing on.
How had I not noticed that before?
Pushing through the boys, I peered over the top of the hill. About one hundred meters away I could see a small fire that was surrounded by a group of five dark shapes: some people were camped out on the sand. From this distance, it was impossible to tell what they were doing, but they seemed to be having a good time.
"We're crashing a party?" I drawled, unimpressed.
"Kind of," David smiled, making the others laugh. Again, I felt like I had missed a very important joke.
I stared at David, silently barraging him with questions. How was ruining someone's late-night party going to possibly help me? If anything at all, I was going to trip and fall down the side of the dune making more trouble for myself. Then again, for all I knew, the people at the bottom of the hill would probably turn out to be a runaway group of doctors and I would have to eat my words—bitter taste, apostrophes, and all.
"Now?" Paul groaned once he stopped laughing. He sounded surprisingly desperate, like a small child who has been impatiently waiting to open his Christmas presents for hours.
David gave a terse nod in the direction of the distant fire as if giving permission for the others to advance. Never once did he take his eyes off of me; his gaze seemed to simultaneously spear me to the floor as well as terrify me. Something dark was lingering behind the icy pools of his eyes that made my teeth stand on edge. I wanted desperately to turn tail and run, but I couldn't force myself to so much as blink.
"Yes," Paul breathed, his eyes practically glowing with excitement.
"Make sure you leave some for the rest of us," Dwayne teased, though his eyes were just as crazed as Paul's. Come to think about it they all looked like Paul—like wild animals.
Just as I went to open my mouth to tell David that I didn't think this was a good idea any longer, he disappeared—and I mean that quite literally. One moment, I could see David and the boys in front of me as plain as day, and the next they had simply vanished. Staring around stupidly, I turned this way and that, expecting to see the others behind me, next to me, in front of me, somewhere—anywhere. They weren't. An eerie silence, punctuated only by the distant roaring of the surf, fell over the beach around me, plunging me into an icy bath of pure dread. It was like the calm that precedes a terrible storm: the air was charged with a nameless and oppressive potential energy that weighed on me like a blanket of iron. Tensing with anticipation, I waited for the axe to fall.
It wasn't long after that I heard the screams.
My eyes snapped downhill, locking on the fire in the distance when another ear-piercing wail rang through the air. Terrified, I watched one dark shape tackle another to the ground against the raging flames. Bolting down the dune at a frantic pace, I raced through the sand towards the distant bonfire. The screams and shrieks of the people surrounding the flames intensified as I neared, sending shivers up and down my spine. That alone was enough to send my skin crawling, but what made everything worse was the laughter. Running with more energy and speed than I thought possible, I could clearly hear people laughing just underneath the agonized cries that filled the air as I drew nearer to the flames.
Skidding to an abrupt halt just outside of the glow of the fire, I had to force myself to hold back a scream.
The makeshift campsite had been absolutely decimated and dark splashes of blood coated everything. Dwayne, Marko, and David were hunched like feeding wolves over the bodies of three men, their lips coated in red. I arrived at the scene of the massacre just in time to watch as Paul leapt through the air across the width of the campsite (fire pit and flames included) to tackle the last-standing survivor. She was wailing hysterically as she tried to flee into the night, unaware of the thing—I didn't feel comfortable calling Paul 'human' anymore: he had fangs, for fuck's sake!—that was coming after her. She screamed so loudly and shrilly when Paul landed on her that my ears hurt—well, that is until the sound cut off in a bloody gurgle that made my stomach churn. I had to forcefully rip my eyes from Paul as he proceeded to rip her throat to shreds.
I had never seen anything more violent, grisly, or disturbing in my life. But what was more chilling was that, as I stood there, watching my 'friends' brutally cannibalize their fellow man, I couldn't help but want to join in. The heavy metallic smell of the air was maddening: every breath that I drew in made my body ache for a taste of the hot, fresh blood that ran from the mangled throats of the doomed partiers. It was the incident with Erin all over again: I could barely resist the yearning that burned in my chest, blazing like the fire before me, to feel the hot ichor of the fading lives before me on my lips, to taste it, sweet and deep, on my tongue… Panting with sickening anticipation and jealousy, I watched as the boys drained the ruined bodies beneath them of blood. Once finished with their grizzly work, each boy tossed the fresh corpse they had made into the roaring fire, lifting the dead weight as easily as you would a child's plaything. It took every ounce of strength that I had—and I suddenly had more energy than I could feasibly handle—to keep myself from taking another forward step.
"I can't decide if she's scared or excited," Paul laughed, triumphant, as he tossed the corpse of the skinny dark-haired woman he had ravaged onto the fire. The flames roared higher into the night sky as her clothes ignited, bathing me in a flood of light. The others laughed, but I didn't really hear them: my ears were ringing loudly with the pounding of my heart in my chest as I stared, mesmerized, at a huge swath of blood-soaked sand that laid before me. I only noticed that David was walking towards me when his shadow fell on my face. Ripping my eyes away from the ground, I watched as David approached me, wiping the back of his hand at the corner of his mouth.
"We saved one for you," he smiled darkly, his eyes dancing with electricity.
"What?" I asked absently. I was so focused on fighting back against the intense need that raged inside of me that I wasn't really sure what he had said.
David smiled, but it wasn't his usual smarmy grin. Everything about him was off—he looked drawn up and tense, but also pained to the nth degree. "Come with me," he said pleasantly, though the tone didn't match the cold determination that glittered in his eyes. Promptly turning his back to me and walking away, David motioned for me to follow as he weaved his way around to the other side of the pyre. Without really thinking, I followed him, my gate robotic. I couldn't help but to forcefully avert my eyes as I rounded the fire; I didn't want to see the bodies that were being incinerated amongst the flames.
"Ha, look at that," Dwayne jeered as I came up behind David, "he's trying to run away."
"More like 'drag'," Marko snickered, the venom in his voice astonishing. Paul and Dwayne laughed uproariously at his comment.
It was impossible not to hear the pained grunts coming from the other side of David. In the silence that followed the sound of the boys' mirth, just under the crackle of the fire, I could hear someone sobbing quietly and the scraping of something being dragged across the beach. Freezing, I rooted myself deeply in the sand just behind David. I couldn't trust myself to safely move another inch.
"Don't be shy," David smiled over his shoulder to me, his eyes hard and devoid of humour.
"I'm not shy," I denied, the pure horror that rocked my body making my voice waver slightly. 'Shy' was definitely the wrong word to use. Terrified? Sure. Mortified? Yes. Disgusted? Of course. Shy? Hell no.
David shook his head slowly—sadly—before turning to face me so quickly that he seemed to vanish again. Before I could exhale, he appeared behind me with his hands placed firmly over my shoulders. I focused my eyes intently upward on the moon instead of letting them drop to the ground like I wanted them to. "Then come closer," David whispered into my ear as he easily pushed me forward through the sand.
"David, no," I breathed, terrified; no matter how much I tried, I was unable to keep him from forcing me onward. Eventually, we stopped and he spun me away from the horizon and back towards the fire pit. The other boys were watching me intently, satisfied and encouraging smiles on each of their faces.
"Please," a strange voice cried up at me from my feet. My eyes flickered downwards before I could stop them; I instantly regretted my mistake. A man with chestnut hair was laying before my feet and gazing up at me: he was skinny, tall and, on any other occasion, would have been rather good looking. Scanning over the rest of his prone body, I noticed that both of his legs were sticking out at awkward angles across the ground like his knees had been broken. He was also bleeding from a deep gash across his lower back, staining his T-shirt red. "Don't kill me," he continued, begging pitifully when I looked back to his eyes. He then reached out at my ankle, trying to grab onto me as fresh tears spilled down his face, running through the few smears of blood that clung there. Frightened, I recoiled before he could touch me, bumping backwards into David's chest.
"Put him out of his misery," David whispered, his voice steely beneath the sultry notes that rang in my ears like honeyed poison.
"No—I can't," I gasped, struggling to pull away from David's hands; I didn't make much progress.
"Kill him," David purred warmly into my ear. "Drink his blood; it will help, I promise."
"NO, PLEASE!" the dying man screeched, trying again to latch onto my ankles. I managed to side-step him and out from David's hands in one quick move.
"I can't," I repeated, fighting against the desire that David's simple, albeit morbid, instructions inspired within me. I wanted to kill the unfortunate man before me more than anything in the world, but I was so scared and repulsed with myself that I couldn't move. No matter how I tried to will my body—to advance on the dying man or to flee off down the beach—my muscles wouldn't respond. So, instead, I just stood there, staring with horrid fascination.
"Yes, you can—you will," David said sternly.
I shook my head stupidly as I gazed down at the man on the ground. He had given up on trying to reach out to me and had buried his face in his arm, crying. "I—I don't know how," I stammered. Astonished by my own words (that wasn't what I had intended to say at all), I took a tentative step back towards the surf. What the flying fuck is wrong with me? I just witnessed four people get butchered like cattle—I should be running away screaming bloody murder, not giving serious thought to killing someone myself!
The other boys laughed as they listened to me protest.
"Five says she doesn't go through with it," Paul said, making sure he was being loud enough for me to hear him.
"Deal," Dwayne and Marko said in unison, distracting me momentarily.
"It's easy," David beckoned, holding his hand out to me. Every move David made seemed calculated and intentionally delicate; he knew I was liable to bolt at any second. "I'll show you," he continued calmly.
"David, please don't make me do this," I whispered as I felt myself take a few robotic steps through the sand.
"I'm not making you do anything," he muttered blackly. I paused to watch David fish through a few of the pockets on his duster; his triumphant smile was tainted with disdain when he finally pulled out a small silver switchblade. With a smooth flick of his wrist, the blade flew open, glinting keenly in the firelight. Just looking at it sent icy shivers running through me. The soft click of the knife locking was enough to draw the prone man from his lamenting. I watched as his eyes grew wide when he saw the knife in David's hand.
"No, please!" he cried, turning his useless pleas from me to David.
"Shut up or I'll slit your throat," David hissed, his voice seething with vitriol. "Come here, Felicia," he commanded, motioning to me with the knife. With a cold practicality I didn't think possible, David then knelt down next to the dying man, eyeing him as a hunter would a deer carcass he was about to butcher. Before I knew what I was doing, I found myself kneeling next to him, gazing down at the condemned man with a mixture of anticipation and dread. I had to fight back the excitement that bubbled in my stomach, sending tendrils of adrenaline through my system, as I watched David grab a handful of the man's hair. The stranger cried out at the roughness of David's touch, the sound a mixture of fear and pain; it made me shiver violently—with desire.
Roughly yanking back on his head, David exposed the vulnerable flesh of the dying man's neck. "I'm going to give you a place to start, but that's all," David whispered as he placed his switchblade to the man's jugular. The blade was so sharp that the infinitesimal amount of pressure David had used broke the skin, drawing a tiny bead of blood. "You have to kill him yourself."
"I can't," I said bleakly, watching the man as he cried quietly. I felt sorry for him. I felt sorry for me.
"Do it," David hissed sideways at me before raking the knife across the man's throat.
The wound was superficial at best but that didn't stop it from bleeding. After all, I had a lot of experience with cuts and scrapes and I had found that, over the years, it was always the ones which really weren't that bad that bled the most. A thick ribbon of crimson oozed out and down the man's neck as soon as David pulled the knife away. Although I desperately wanted to, I couldn't stop staring at the blood that poured out from the wound, sparkling in the firelight like a sea of rubies. The smell was also incredibly intoxicating: warm, sweet, and salty, I could barely think of anything other than feeling the hot lifeblood of the brown-haired man on my tongue. It took all of my strength—and then some that I didn't know I had left—to keep myself from launching, head first, towards his bleeding neck.
Still holding gruffly onto the stranger's hair, David looked to me expectantly. "Go on," he pressed.
Glancing to David's eyes, worried, I felt myself lean slightly closer to the open gash. Taking in a deep, involuntary breath through my nose, I sighed contently. The smell was fascinating! It was the perfect mix between the world's most amazing perfume and the most delicious meal ever created. It made my mouth water.
"It's easy once you start," David encouraged, his voice quiet and cold. I didn't doubt him.
Leaning the rest of the way down, I let my mouth hover over the open wound. I could practically feel the heat of the blood on my lips. Goosebumps erupted across my skin, sending pleasant shivers across my entire body.
"That's it," David sighed, relieved.
Yes… Just one quick flick of my tongue and I would be able to put this insane desire to rest. One quick taste and everything would be fine. It would be easy…
That was all it took for fear to take over me. Rocketing backwards through the sand, I scrambled haphazardly to my feet and tried to distance myself from David and the stranger. Paul, of course, started cheering because he had just won his bet. "No, no, no," I repeated, shaking my head when David looked sadly up at me. "No."
"Felicia," David sighed, letting go of the brown-haired man's hair.
"No," I reeled, still stumbling blindly backwards.
"Felicia," David pleaded, "relax. Come here."
"No," I said fiercely again.
David's eyes looked absolutely ancient as he watched my clumsy retreat. "It will help; I promise."
"How!?" I screamed, suddenly so frightened that I was angry.
"Just trust me—you have to do this," he begged, sounding very unlike himself.
"No," I spat through gritted teeth before turning on my heel and sprinting away.
I ran until I couldn't run anymore. My lungs burned in my chest as I tore across the sand, my body screaming in agony with each step that I took. The sea and my heart roared in my ears, keeping cadence with each other in a horrid rhythm. Fuelled on by adrenaline, my laboured breathing hid the excitement that coursed through me, tainting me like a cancer.
After what felt like an eternity, I became careless with exhaustion and tripped over a rock that was jutting out of the sand. Falling to the ground in a limp and lifeless heap, tears poured in torrents down my face… Though no sobs followed. These were not tears of sadness: they were tears of frustration, dismay, and confusion all rolled into one big, wet package. Closing my eyes, I let myself cry, intent to do so until I ran out of tears.
"That was uncalled for," David growled a moment or two later, his voice impossibly close. Shocked, I wrenched my eyes open, wiping away some of the moisture on the back of my hands, and looked up at him. He was standing over me and looking extremely frustrated.
"How did you do that?" I demanded, scrambling out from under him and to my feet. Stumbling backwards a few paces, I watched David as he watched me, looking on cautiously as you would when trying to calm a frightened horse.
"Do what?" David replied slowly, the edge of exasperation that tainted his words revealed in the tiny frown that puckered his brow.
"Appear out of nowhere!" I hissed at him.
"That's not important," he sighed tersely, rolling his eyes. "You need to come back and finish what you started."
"Stop telling me what is and isn't important!" I yelled half-heartedly, resisting the urge to grab onto my hair and yank it out.
David sighed heavily as if the situation was just as taxing for him as it was for me. "It's what you are, Felicia," he placated.
"And what is that, exactly?" I cried, frustrated tears spilling once again down my cheeks. "A murderer? Or maybe I'm just fucking psychotic—I don't fucking know anymore!"
This was hardly the time for laughing, but David did anyway. "You're not crazy, Felicia," he smiled sadly, the moonlight revealing the ancient agony that was etched on his beautiful face. "You're turning into a vampire."