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Wiseupjanetweiss - Just got your chp. 3 review as I posted chapter four! Double woot! I'm generating some interest! Ahhhh I love it! -basks in the attention-

Chapter Five

The next day was a guilt trip like no other. I spent the whole time thinking about the last thing Brian had said to me before he died.

"I'll miss you… and don't hurt him."

I'd gotten so carried away in getting rid of Maxwell I hadn't thought of that. Then it had struck me full-force, right after I'd come down from my high off of stabbing that bastard creature.

It tried to forget about it, but Maxwell wasn't letting me off easy. For the first time, I could hear him up there, gagging and coughing and retching and moaning in utter misery. I heard heavy thuds that were undoubtedly things being knocked over and falling to the floor. Those crashes only lasted a few minutes, but I could hear him up there for hours.

It was the weirdest thing, but I started feeling bad about what I'd done to him. It was a really shit way to die. But I couldn't bring myself to go up there again.

He carried on for three days like that. Three days before the upstairs apartment finally fell silent. Three days suffocating. Then I had to go figure out what to do with him now that he was dead.

-+-

I went upstairs to investigate the damage. There were spatters of blood all along the blue carpet, on one line from the bedroom to the bathroom. Some were old and dried on, others a bright, vibrant red, still wet. Fresh.

The bathroom door had been left open. I could see the end of Maxwell's tail curling just outside of it, feathered with long, fine hair like you'll see horses have on their feet sometimes. Electric blue, just like on his head.

I moved closer, stepping into the bathroom, and as soon as my foothad crossed the threshold,I heard this absolutely pathetic snarl from the floor. The poor bastard was still alive, can you believe that? Blood was caked on his shoulder, the knife still sunk in mostly as I had left it, and his heavy, rasping breathing had brought a pinkish, bloody foam to the corners of his mouth, but he still was clinging on to his miserable existance.

He snarled at me, warning me away, then he coughed, retched, and threw up what seemed to be mostly blood. Not onto the floor, into the toilet.

That was when I realized I wasn't just dealing with some stupid, senseless animal. 'Cause you can toilet-train cats, ferrets, dogs, rabbits or whatever you want to take a shit in a litter box. But I'll pay you a million bucks if you can show me anything with less than human intelligence that's vomit-trained of its own accord.

I could have just let him die if I hadn't seen that… but after it… it was too much like killing another human. One with Brian's face, on top of that.

He seemed to have passed out after throwing up, wedged between the wall and the toilet and the edge of an enormous sunken-in bathtub. Pressed against the cool marble floor, like some kid with a fever.

Since he was out, I reached out to touch him hesitantly, on his back, just behind one of the wing-joints. He didn't stir, so I picked him up, carried him out of the bathroom and over to his bed. Carrying him was awkward, because his wings just fell limp, dragging the ground, and I was afraid I'd step on them. Plus I was shaking the whole time, because I was scared. If he woke up… all he needed to do was take those claws to my throat, and I was a fuckin' goner for sure.

I got him to bed, though. He wasn't really that heavy. Then again, being locked up here, he probably hadn't eaten anything in a while.

Next I had to get the knife out of his shoulder. I knew he was going to wake up for that; there was no hope he wouldn't. I had promised Brian, though, at least in my mind, and that was the only thing that kept me going with all this madness.I grabbed hold of the knife with one hand and just yanked it out. Just because I wasn't letting him die didn't mean I was taking any special pains to make him comfortable.

He jerked awake, narrowing his eyes at me and snarling, then laid his head down again, twisting his neck I guess so he could breathe better, still heaving but now also watching me warily with those blank, hateful eyes. I glared hard at him back, and went to loosen the collar.

He got pissed again then, with me so close to his head, I guess, and started growling, thrashing about. Trying to undo the buckle with one hand and hold him down with the other wasn't working, so I reached out and gave a sharp smack across his ass. He squealed, startled, and immediately bit me in return, sinking teeth into my arm. Didn't matter, it kept him still at least. I got the collar off, shoved him off, and took off, yelling at him as I went.

"You goddamn ungrateful bitch!"

I threw the collar at him for good measure before slamming the door.