Leaving procedures suck.
The teachers all look disappointed when I ask them to sign off the sheet, wishing me the best. I smile weakly, biting back the voice inside that's screaming. You're boring! I was drunk in your class for how long? You don't care that I'm leaving!
The librarian offers me some books to take that no one reads anymore, old classics that apparently only I'm interested in. I don't know why, but I say yes. I'm in a book mood today. It makes her smile. She signs off happily, glad her work is done.
Jess and Angela cry on me at lunch, even Mike mentions how he'll miss me. I sip from my bottle as they load me with praise, promise to write and email and call. I don't care. They weren't there for me when I needed them, and now I'm going.
I don't remember exactly when I shut myself off like this. I don't remember always being this isolated. It's...lonely. But that apathetic, surly voice in my head tells me that I don't care. I take another swig.
When the bell goes, I sit in my truck until the car park is clear. Rain pitters on the windscreen. I'm torn. Do I go home or do I-
My hands move of their own accord.
Rain washes the blood off the side of my mouth. The taste of bear is rancid, nothing compared to humans. I don't even know why I keep hunting like this. Habit maybe… But still. I could have gone to the outskirts of town, smiled at some poor innocent girl, lured her away. Held her against a wall, played with her hair and kissed up her neck, hand at the small of her back. Maybe I'd get her to give me some before she dies, driving her to the precipice of pleasure. Feel her legs wrap around me, fingers dig into faded scars, have her gasp my name. And then, bathe in the screams of her orgasm and terror.
My dick twitches, and I ignore it. That's fucking sick, man. Gross. I start walking back home.
The driveway is exactly how I left it. How it's been for months now. I haven't come back, not since-
I don't remember driving here even. Maybe it's the drinking, maybe its something else, but I'm not remembering a whole lot lately.
I lurch out my truck, leaning on it a little until the world stops spinning. I have to stop driving like this. Its illegal, its unsafe.
The steps up to the house give me a little trouble, but I manage. Fingers curling around the door handle, I wonder if it'll even be unlocked. Knowing my luck, this would have all been in vain. I cross the fingers on my other hand, and turn.
A car's engine shudders up my drive. What the fuck? I hope it's just some random, someone who's lost. I don't want to have to deal with humans today. Especially with blood on the collar of my shirt. I hang back, moving slowly forward through the trees, trying to get a better look.
The door swings open, and I let go of a breath I didn't know I had been holding.
Everything is where it was before they left, when I was here last. The piano, the couches, the table. Nothing has changed. I don't know if that was what I expected, what I'd hoped to find. But it's some sort of comfort.
I move through the lounge, sweeping dust off the top of the couch as I walk past. Rain glimmers on the windows, a soft veil of sound surrounding the house. As I begin to look harder, remember, I notice some things are missing. A rack of CD's are gone, the books and magazines aren't here anymore. I stare longingly up the stairs...should I? Or should I not?
My feet move before I can stop myself.
I decide to go in through the back. I shouldn't have left the front door unlocked, that was stupid. Although, what's there really left to steal? They all took the possessions they wanted, just about everything left is replaceable.
Although, it did sound like a big truck. Maybe it's someone come to steal the TV? I might miss that. Some couches? I still don't see the point.
I open the back door, slide through as quickly and quietly as I can. Really, there was no need for my precaution, I'm sure any burglar would be scared shitless by someone else being in the house. Especially with blood around their mouth.
I hesitate outside his door. Surely I can't do that. But...why not? Just a little more closure, making sure he really has left, before I go too. That's not so bad, right? Suddenly I'm wishing I had bought in that whiskey with me.
The door swings open as easily as I remember, and the memories flood me.
Him, sweeping my hair behind my ears. Him, breath swirling in my face. Him, kissing me so chastely.
A deer in the headlights, I stare. There is nothing else for me to do. My body will not move. I am paralyzed by the knowledge that he has left. And he really has. All those discs, gone. His books, gone. Clothes, gone. Him...gone.
Maybe that's for the best.
I pinch my thigh again, narrowly avoiding cuts I had made just before lunch.
Why are they just standing there? I can't hear movement, I can't hear talking. It...it's only one person. The scents so familiar too.
I consider calling out, letting them know I'm here. Something tells me no, to continue being silent.
What the fuck are they doing?
His bed still smells like him. That's almost strange, considering he doesn't sleep, but still...it's nice. It's comforting. I want to stay, to curl up in his blankets and pretend he's out on a hunt, that he'll be home to hold me soon. My fingers itch to pull back the covers, to rest.
I have to be stronger than that though. There's a reason I'm leaving. Because he's already gone.
I turn on my heel, storm out his room. I slam the door for good measure. That'll show him.
I'm in Alice's room before I know it. Seeing the remainder of her things doesn't hurt so bad. All her magazines are gone though, which seems weird. But you can still tell this room was hers. So it's even stranger to see the bed sheets rumpled. Maybe she just never bothered to straighten them out when she was packing her clothes. Oh right- her clothes.
Tentatively sticking a hand through the wardrobe doors, I switch on the lights. Please no spiders, pretty please. Nothing skitters over my hand, and the light flashes on immediately. I'm astounded by the amount she left behind. She loves her fashion so much, to leave so many pieces here is almost unlike her. But I don't mind. I poke through some of the hangers, trying to find something to pinch. Obviously she's not missing any of it.
But everything is too small. Too sparkly. Too pristine, too rich, too Alice. I decide I don't want any of it.
With a huff, I turn the lights off and stalk out the room. My foot catches on something though, and I fall with a surprised gasp.
"Fuck!"
I check my knee, pat my forehead, rub my arms. Nothing's broken, nothing's bleeding. Good. I'm glad that no one is here to have heard that.
What did I even trip over? The spilled pile of books next to me provides an explanation. I pick one up that must have been from the top of the pile. "Gone With the Wind." Margaret Mitchell doesn't strike me as someone that Alice would read, but shrugging, I hold on to it.
A stabbing sensation in my head warns me that if I don't drink soon, I am in for a nasty hangover. I hobble downstairs without exploring any further, and throw myself and the book in my truck. Washing down an aspirin with the last of my vodka, I journey back home.
She walked past too quickly for me to see, but she didn't strike me as the burglar type. Just some weird girl that manages to find the house and decides to walk on through it? It doesn't make sense to me, but I'll go with it. From the lingering, yet faint scent of alcohol though, I'd take it was just another drunkard looking for a place to nap. I'm not going to stop her from driving I guess.
Still, it bothers me that someone just came in. That someone else knows about this house. Sighing, I walk upstairs. I should probably leave soon. I straighten up the pile of books that she fell over, counting to make sure they were all still there. 5, 6, 7- hold on. I recount, try to remember which titles were there.
I pull back the blankets on the bed, searching frantically for the book. Nothing.
Bedside table? Nothing.
Under the bed? The floor? The shelves? The leftover books? The pile again? Nothing.
So that's what she was holding.
She stole my copy of "Gone With the Wind." With my bookmark still in it.