SHOUTOUTS:
Wiseupjanetweiss - hallo my consistent reviewer! Ha… seems thing's gotten a bit odder… much funner to write, s'why I've been slapping up chapters faster than I can get reviews!Ahh but I appreciate it! Danke danke danke schon!
Chapter Seven
I had hurried down to the bathroom to inspect the damage his claws had done to my back, wincing as I pulled off my shredded shirt and threw it aside. Looking over my shoulder into the mirror, I saw eight deep, angry redgashes down my back, two punctures where Maxwell had hooked his thumbs into my skin to hold on, others where he'd bitten my shoulder. The whole thing was screaming "seek medical attention," but what was I going to tell them? Oh, the Demon living in my attic attacked me? Yeah. More likely they would pick up on the heroin in my system and think I had done it to myself. Crazy druggie guys tend to do things like that.
"Shit."
One thing was for sure, though. I had to get it cleaned out. God knew what kind of goddamned demon rabies or some shit Maxwell had. Hell, maybe he was even poisonous. Though if that had been the case, I was more than likely slowly dying already. Which was a happy thought.
I turned the faucets on in the tub, went to find a towel, and soaked it. Pressing a towel to your own back wasn't exactly all that effective at stopping bleeding, and it stung like hell, made me shake from the lances of pain, but it seemed to be about the realest, sanest thing I had done in days.
I let the water run. Worked my way out of my leather pants. Stepped into the bath, still laying back against the bloody towel, resting my head against the cool side of the tub.
A shadow slunk past the open bathroom door, but I hadn't noticed. My hands had been pressed over my eyes, and I was trying to return to some sort of calm state, trying to wish myself out of this madness my world had spiraled into.
"Oh God, Bri… Brian, Brian, Brian…"
Calling out to him, whispering his name, cursing him for chaining Maxwell to me, praying to him to save me, pitying him for what he'd been through. The shadow slipped by the door several more times.
Of course, the shadow had been Maxwell. He went by the door several more times unnoticed by me, searching the flat, going back and forth between the living area and the bedrooms. Eventually, he sat down in the doorway, waiting, surprisingly patient and quiet. I didn't even notice he was there until I started to get out of the bath and saw him sitting there, naked as always, legs bent almost daintily to one side, wings folded behind him. He looked up at me, tilting his head in a questioning, but also demanding manner.
-Where is he?-
The noise was inside my mind, like when your ears are ringing but there's not really any sound. That's how his voice was.
"What?"
-Where's Brian?- he repeats, impatient.
"You talk?"
He looked annoyed. -Of course. Don't be stupid.-
"Then why the hell didn't you before?"
-Why would I speak to you? Frankly, you strike me as being fairly incompetent. Now where is Brian?-
I scowled at him. "He's dead. He paid someone to shoot him. Right before a concert, where everyone was expecting him to pose as you."
-Why?-
"Why would I tell you?"
-Because I told you to.-
I got up and grabbed a towel, pulling it around myself, heading for the door, "Well, you don't deserve to know. You're a fuckin' bitch. Now move."
He bared his fangs but shifted aside. Barely.
"Bite me again and I'll put the collar on you."
He didn't care. I could threaten him all I liked, but he knew that at the moment, I had no weapons against him. Not even the collar. He got up from the floor, followed me down the hallway to the bedroom, sitting on the bed and watching me get dressed just like Brian had a thousand times. He was also sort of running claws carefully over the sheets, went up to bury his nose against the pillow. Brian's pillow. It pissed me off. Where did he get the right to come in and go through all Brian's things, be in here while I was trying to change?
Not that I was going to get dressed in front of him anyway.
"D'you mind?"
-No.-
Of course not. He was the one who appeared to have never let a single article of clothing grace his skin.
"Maxwell, get out."
He jerked his head up from what had been Brian's pillow.
-Fuck you, Curt.-
"That was Brian's privilege," I shot back.
-Nice to see he stooped so low.-
I turned to him, angry.
"You're glad to see him gone, aren't you, you little prick?"
His eyes narrowed again and he growled at me, starting to move forward, but I threw my towel at him, disgusted, and stormed out of the room. The insensitive little bastard. No wonder Brian had killed himself because of Maxwell…
I was going insane, and I'd barely spent a month with him.