His sense of smell was worse than ever. With every breath he could smell everyone's pheromones, their general moods, and whether a person was looking for a mate, ready to mate, or had recently mated and not showered.
The latter made his skin crawl. It brought to mind feral thoughts, he could barely think. He couldn't go to the Rack, or go to school, or go anywhere really. For safety he holed himself in his room behind several locks and heavy chains. His window was sealed and boarded up. He knew these precautions were only temporary. They all knew, but they had believed in him.
In the early morning hours, as he was eating breakfast – he could only stomach fruit and vegetables, meat and dairy had the smell of death – Lori blearily came into the kitchen, a torrid stench wafting over him. Like a bull he only saw her.
She was ovulating, ready to mate. If he mounted her right now offspring would surely result. The probability didn't even come to mind.
As he witnessed his dream self race toward Lori with a snarl, Kyle tried to close his eyes but knew he couldn't. It was his dream and for some twisted reason his mind wanted him to realize the consequences of not controlling his sense of smell.
It had been mercilessly quick but painful, he saw Lori bleeding and sobbing, huddled on the floor. She was a shadow of herself, broken but alive.
Futile as it was, he tried ending the nightmare before it got worse.
Jessi appeared at the front door, the world's guardian against a most terrible predator. The gaping hole that had once been their mutual connection had become a black hole, a place where light and love could not enter, and also could not leave.
He had once loved her, and Amanda too, but now nothing could touch him.
He heard her heart beating, her soothing voice, "Kyle." He smelled her fear.
And so he raced toward her, lopping off her head with his outstretched fingers. He could feel his dream self revel in the blood. He was disgusted, repulsed.
Over days, weeks, and months, he watched as the bodies mounted. The FBI, SWAT teams, even the most elite mercenaries could not catch him unawares. He could see further than an eagle, smell better than any dog, hear better than anything alive. Nightly he would raid villages and cities to mate with numerous ovulating women, and kill all the men he encountered and all women who tried to stop him.
A legend would be born, a legend of the first immortal, vampire or devil it really didn't matter.
The nightmare continued for what seemed like hours, but thankfully he'd detached himself sufficiently to watch it like a really bad horror movie. It ended with a tactical nuclear strike on New York City. He saw the missiles landing simultaneously in all eight major cardinal directions.
He was at the center, laughing.
***
He slowly opened his eyes as the nukes struck. Finally, the horror had relinquished its hold on hm. He took a deep breath, and noticed Jessi beside him on the floor, leaning against the tub, her hand on the nape of his neck. He still felt the absence of their connection, but it seemed much lessened. Contrary to his dream, it seemed as though there was joy there nonetheless.
He smiled to her, but knew she'd done it for him as a friend, as he would have wanted.
He got out of the tub, dressed, and with a smile picked her up and gently placed her into the tub in his place. Carefully closing the door to his room, he went to the kitchen, had a quick breakfast, and went for a run.
***
She could barely contain her joy at the contents of the letter that Kyle had left on her pillow. She'd barely even slept! Before the sun even truly rose above the houses across the street, she raced to his bedroom window, a tremendous smile on her face and in her heart.
Having anticipated he'd hear her and open the window in advance, she waited for several moments before she decided to knock.
Her knuckles never touched the glass of Kyle's bedroom window that day.
She didn't think she ever would again.