Empty Room With A Song

by death-in-the-orchard

Alexander Anderson, the high school senior, quarterback, rich kid; clashes with the withdrawn, troubled teen who goes by the name Hell Dog or Alucard on the streets and by Vlad at school...here is their struggle to survive. Note: This is not yaoi.

14. Chapter 13

Vlad couldn't remember much of what happened that night, how he came to be in that dark ally with the black towering structure of the city in the moonless distance, no horizon, no escape, the darkness surrounding him like a tomb, puddles on the filth blackened asphalt while buzzing electric wires strung between the buildings to his sides dripped meager droplets of water. He remembered no sky, no lights, no people; only his uncle, the blazing icy fire in those blue eyes, brighter than any mortal fire, and the dark crimson of the blood, a spray like a mist across the man's face. Vlad had stared at the man with his eyes wide, unable to blink as the burning blue watched him, a dot of blood slowly rolling down Walter's cheek. Vlad was still eleven when he witnessed his first murder and learned what paid for the food he ate and the roof over his head. Blood money, money earned through the death of another.

Walter's face betrayed nothing, as blank as an inhuman mask. He hadn't noticed that the boy had been following him until he had slit his target's throat with his glistening wire sliding through the soft bone and flesh like it would through water, stopping short of decapitating the man entirely. The blood had erupted from the wound, peppering Walter's face, and then had cascaded down the dead man's front until he fell, flowing to form a puddle that bled into the more innocent collection of rainwater beside it, swirling and dyeing the water red. The blood was still tainting this water as the bright blue eyes watched the wide horror displayed in the lightless red, pale skin making it easy to read the child's expression. Fear, terrible fear, shock, and a mixture that prevented the child from recognizing his own feelings. The bloody wire glistened with its new color, red running along the length of the wire until it touched the exposed fingers, never reaching the man's gloves. The blood dyed his skin red, just as it had done with the water.

Should he kill the boy? No. No reason too. A foot stepped towards Vlad but the stunned boy didn't react, only gazing at his uncle with the same open horror that seemed empty, like an empty void had just been torn into his eyes. The child did not look away from the blue orbs even as they came closer, seemingly growing larger and brighter, flashing with nonexistent light with each step taken by the man.

Pale lips moved, opening a fraction and closing just as far, unable to form words. A breath was the only voice the boy possessed, and even it was inaudible. Walter stood over his nephew and looked down at his shadowed features and the unblinking, empty eyes.

"Boy."

The eyes continued to stare, paralyzed, lips moving, twitching into shapes, into words, a word. The breath became a whisper. "Uncle?" A moment of breathless struggle tightened Vlad's chest, choking him until it passed and he could gasp and even blink away some of the haze of his disbelief. "Are you my uncle?"

The blue eyes darkened in degrees as they narrowed, almost a glare that bore down on the child whose breathing was heavier now. A crisp, hard, and very real voice shattered the boy's daze and left him to the raw and nonexistent mercy of reality. "Go home, boy. Do not speak to anyone until I get there." Vlad stared, lips parted, his lungs frozen, blinking incredulously when the man continued. "I'll be home late."

The boy couldn't move, so he did nothing for too long and a hand roughly gripped his face, covering his mouth and marking his jaw with bloody fingers, wrapping horizontal bars.

"Go. Home." The blue eyes were burning again, chilling Vlad and sending a tremor down his spine. When the hand released him, the boy ran. He ran into the darkness, seeing nothing.

And he did not go home.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

"J-Jack-bean."

The broken whisper tugged on the teen's shirt, pulling two brown eyes that gazed at the quiet, familiar boy. Jake was sitting outside on the front steps of an apartment where the opened windows emitted the sound of music and voices. The teen had been smoking, but now he choked on the fumes at the sudden appearance of the boy sitting beside him. He hadn't even noticed Vlad until that moment, the kid was so quiet. The pale hand gripping the teen's shirt was unrelenting, yet, unsteady. It was trembling faintly in an erratic, twitchy way as if his arm couldn't decide if it was supposed to tremble or be still. Jake removed the cigarette and the red ember moved down to his side, so that he could give his whole attention to the distressed pale face. "What?"

Vlad hesitated, his eyes wandering as he thought, his fist tightening on Jake's shirt. He wasn't supposed to speak to anyone. He was supposed to go home. But he couldn't. He just couldn't. His uncle- His uncle-

Vlad shuddered, bending over and bunching his shoulders as if cringing from an external and internal attack, his eyes shut tight and his brow creased with helpless confusion and regret. Regret for having witnessed such a thing, for having discovered such a secret…a secret.

"Hey, hey kid. Alucard, you're gonna tear my shirt. Hm? What's up? Why're you like this?"

Vlad responded to the pat on his head by jerking away from Jake, startling the teen, and then the boy sat, hugging his knees on the steps, looking in the opposite direction, taking a deep breath. Jake watched him, perplexed and then uneasy about being discovered by the others inside. This wasn't a good time to have them around the kid.

"Jack-bean…I- I need- I was wondering…if, if I could…stay with you, live with you…for a while."

Jake was quiet, listening to the small voice as it caught on the breeze and was brought to him, Vlad still facing the opposite direction so Jake couldn't see the boy's face. Brown eyes blinked, a street light that was giving the sidewalk in front of the apartment and the steps most of its light, brightening his eyes with white specks. He blinked again, his mouth opening twice while he stared at the narrow back. "Why?" The back stiffened and the black head of hair drooped and was soon held by white hands as Vlad's fingers knitted themselves into the midnight strands.

The whisper was hoarse, blowing a chill down the teenager's neck when he heard it and observed the child's position. "My-my uncle…he- he…I can't…go home. I-I can't. N-no, Jack-bean. N-no."

Unable to comprehend or respond effectively to the boy's fear, Jake's spine stiffened and he looked up at the street light, dragging on his cigarette so that the ember flared with searing sparks turning the tobacco into withered ash. "I gotcha, kid. I gotcha, just ease up a bit for me, okay? Ya want me to take you to my place for the night? …I…" The sound of Vlad's voice in his ears and the large, hopeful and yet desolate eyes that now gazed up at him as if he were the kid's savior, prompted the teen to breathe in a lungful of black tar and then sigh it out with purpose darkening his eyes and tightening his jaw. What he was butting into couldn't be anything good for his health… "I think I can do you that favor. …I was planning on leaving now anyway. How about it? Gotta hell of a nice couch and I have some friends I think you'd like to meet." Jake smiled encouragingly and got up with a faint grunt, his body wishing to stay on the steps when he refused to let it.

The child, oblivious of anything other than the fact that Jake was taking him to an enclosed, private location where he would be warm and hidden, didn't react to Jake's other words. Any childish excitement could not be contained within his troubled mind. Everything was jumbled and messy, fumbling around inside him like something broken put in a container and shaken, making it impossible to fit the pieces together to get a clear picture of what it was supposed to be anymore. Messy, shuffled, damaged puzzle pieces that wouldn't fit together even if they were supposed to.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

Jake was seventeen now, and Vlad was still eleven. They hadn't known each other for very long, but the amount of time Vlad spent with Jake and the consistent reminder that he was the kid's only close friend, made it seem like they had known each other for more than nine or so months. And Vlad was special. He was different, in looks, behavior, and actions. He was different, so he stuck out as being different for Jake. Different made Vlad particular, set aside, something…special and one of a kind. If he lost the red eyed boy, he would never find another person who could replace him, so Jake was protective of the kid, looking out for him a bit and teaching him indirectly how to be streetwise, though to call the boy his own close friend…was pushing it. Vlad could think of him as a close friend, but it was more difficult the other way around. Jake's father, meanwhile, was not sure what his opinion of the child was when he found the boy sitting in his living room with a black and white rat on his lap and his son explaining to him that the boy would be staying the night. Jake's father, at a lofty stature of approximately seven feet in height looked down upon the scene, at the troubled, meek little creature that gazed up at him with anxiety and misplaced dread. Dark eyes picked up the faded lines of dried blood on the child's cheek, and then looked at the lengthy black hair, subconsciously recalling the identity of the child and whose blood the boy shared. Joshua Collin Savage, father of Jake Hunter Savage, a man sometimes known as Joel, Tripwire or Gunner, the weapons merchant, smiled carelessly in the way his mouth had become accustomed and left the room. A phone was removed from his pocket and Walter's number was dialed. No ring, just the answering machine, so the Angel of Death was preoccupied… Jake's father snapped the phone close without leaving a message. But he would wait for a call in return while leaving the pale boy in his living room.

"Does the boy get bullied often? You told him to fight back yet?"

Walter showed his impatience for the topic by not looking at the man when he responded, disdain evident in his voice. "The boy says that he doesn't want to hurt people. 'Hurting people is bad'…it's stupidity. The boy's a moron. I'll leave it at that."

Jake's father had chuckled after a moment. "Are you sure he's related to you?"

Then Walter had scowled in response and ignored the man completely.

The boy wasn't his uncle, but he was young and malleable. He would learn. He would have to learn. Passiveness throws you under the feet of people who have a goal, those who will aggressively pursue whatever they set themselves up to, no matter who they trample in the process. But, when Joshua Savage looked at the pale face and the blood-red of the boy's eyes, an otherworldly feeling would prick at the back of his consciousness, leaving him with the impression that the boy could never be so carelessly trampled without a pile of casualties being the result.

For now, Vlad held the friendly, licking rat, trying to smile but failing to do more than give an odd grimace that disturbed Jake, though the teen said nothing, only encouraging his pet rats, Bell and Jasmine, to interact with the kid. Vlad wasn't hungry, but he said he liked holding the rats. The rats, he claimed, helped and made him feel a little better. They took the rats with them into the room where the varying models of computers Jake's family owned were kept. When offered the chance to play a medieval game where the player builds his own kingdom and battles other kingdoms, the boy declined, content to watch with the black and white rat on his shoulder. Time passed quietly, the quiet easing Vlad's frayed nerves slowly.

Vlad was asleep on the couch when Jake's father received the call he had been expecting.

"What?"

W.C.D., no one else had such a way with words, the man smirked beginning to pace in his bedroom, aware of his seclusion and Vlad's ignorance. "Have you gone home yet?"

There was a quiet pause while Walter made sure he had heard the question correctly and then scowled, trying to see what reason the man could have for asking him such a thing. Joshua knew that Walter didn't want other people to have information about him, that he didn't tolerate questions that touched such forbidden territory. So he allowed a pause.

"Why?"

Joshua smiled to himself and stood still, one hand going to his pocket before he answered. "I have your nephew."

Quiet. Walter stared dully at nothing while the heat of anger flickered in his eyes and the lines of his scowl grew deeper. The anger was lightened for a moment with the deeper voice on the phone.

"I have your nephew and if you want him back alive you will have to…actually, give me a sec C.D., I don't know what I want yet."

"I didn't know that he knew where you live."

The man sighed, disappointed as Walter ignored his humor, and he turned, his hand going to his hair for a moment, smoothing over the black strands that were collectively gathered into a stub of a bun at the back of his head. "My son brought him here-"

And…he hung up on me. Jake's father slipped his phone back into his pocket and left his bedroom to check on the sleeping lump under the blanket in the living room. The boy was curled up into a ball, tucked into the corner of the couch. The man went to the hallway that led to his front door and then leaned against the wall to wait.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

"I thought I told you to go home, boy."

With a sharp gasp Vlad bolted upright and stared at the blue eyes above him where his uncle was standing before the couch. Red darted about the lit room, unable to accept that he was still in Jake's house where he was supposed to be safe, and yet his uncle was standing before him, glaring at him. Oh god, oh god, oh god. Vlad's eyes searched and found his uncle, making his body cringe and retreat back to seek protection with the couch cushions. Huddled and gripping his knees with his hands, Vlad finally found the man named Joshua towards the wall. The feeling of betrayal washed over the child, welling in his eyes as dry tears and a shudder that Joshua observed all too clearly with his gut twisting itself into a knot. The man's arms were crossed and this did not change, neither did the blank look in his dark eyes, but he leaned back to rest some of his weight against the wall with an unnoticeable sigh. Betrayal in any form was difficult for him, his character incompatible with disloyalty and going against any of his other moral codes of conduct which he had laid out himself. The man abided his codes almost religiously, but in this case his duty to call the Angel of Death had been a priority.

He would watch. That was the least he could do for the kid. W.C.D. in a rage was not a pretty sight, and it was a time when the man was at his peek of unpredictability, when he was at his most dangerous level. W.C.D. was an odd, brilliant, terrifying individual. Joshua pitied the boy at the moment, filled with dread at the notion of being in Vlad's place. …Just don't rip the kid apart in my living room, C.D. He's just a kid, a scared kid… Jake's father tried to send his thoughts telepathically to the long haired Angel of Death, but could not tell if his message was getting across as he watched the man's back.

Vlad stammered, gazing up at his uncle, gaping in horror when he tried to speak. Walter's eyes became slits at the show of cowardice and weakness. He leaned forward slowly, gradually coming to hang over his nephew with the boy pressed into the corner with round eyes, a gloved hand gripping the back of the couch to support the man. The glare, at such a close range, almost stopped the boy's heart. Shallow breaths and an irate heart beat hammered in the child's chest, his whole frame quivering with fear. The leather of Walter's glove creaked slightly, making Vlad swallow and shiver violently. "I'm," He swallowed again and tried to stop shivering, failing to make himself blink though his eyes stung so sharply that they were beginning to water. "…very sorry Uncle." His voice cracked.

The glare deadened, the blue dulling but providing an effect that was more terrible than the previous glare. Vlad stared, his head jerking with a shiver and his chest heaving with a hard breath. He could kill me and not feel a thing. The child's mouth opened, as if to scream, but the muscles of his face never tightened to show the fright that was required to make him do so. The undeveloped mind struggled to cope with the situation. Walter watched, his gaze just as detached as it had been before. "Why are you sorry?"

"I-I didn't go home, Uncle."

The room contained only the boy's shallow breaths, blue staring into the red orbs as time pierced Vlad's mind with lances of panic.

"You know that I told you to go home. Is this home, boy?"

The child shook his head desperately while he answered with a croak. "No."

Walter continued to take his time, speaking slowly in a well controlled voice. "No? Then that's too bad for you... I'm considering not sharing my house with you any longer. Then your home will be the streets, the gutters, wherever you can find a card board box. Would you like me to put you outside so you can find your home?"

Red gaped, the shivering escaping as the pale body numbed with chilling shock. Dismay made his fear combine with this new threat, and the boy stopped pressing into the couch and blinked up at the man with a pitiful crinkle in his brow. "No! No, please! I want to go home! I want to go home! I do, Uncle! I'm sorry! Really sorry! Please-!"

The other gloved hand which had been forgotten shot out at the boy's hair and twisted it before shoving Vlad into the corner he had been cowering in. Walter leaned closer to Vlad, a menacing glower erasing the wince of pain Vlad had on his face. "Then why didn't you go home in the first place, boy, if you wanted to so much? Do you think that it will always be there for you to go back to whenever you want? Why should I house and feed a little shit like you? I hate kids. Did you know that Vladimir?" Walter's face moved closer to his nephew's while his voice grew quieter again. "I hate children. Why shouldn't I send you away to some foster home or orphanage, whatever will take you? I've treated you a hell of a lot better than I should. No one else would take in a little mutated freak. There's no way for you to earn money as you are now, a fool and a freak…"

"C.D…" Jake's father moved uncomfortably and then bit his lip, watching as Walter intimidated the child. He could no longer see Vlad clearly, but while his voice was ignored, he did nothing to stop Walter.

Vlad's mouth was open, his face creased with many compiling emotions, from fear to agony, and tears built in his eyes, threatening to spill down his grayed cheeks, his flesh drained of blood. "I-…I am sorry, Uncle. I'm sorry. …I… won't do it again."

Walter didn't draw away from his nephew, not allowing the child's heart rate to drop. "How do I know that it won't happen again?"

Vlad's eyes blinked and a shudder of deformed hope made his eyes earnest. "I promise. I'll do everything you say, Uncle. I won't do it again. I'll go home. I'll always go home when you tell me to, Uncle. I'm sorry. I- I don't want to go to strangers."

Walter stared at the boy, his glare replaced with his removed look that offered no foresight of hope or dread for the receiver. The man spoke again while Jake's father continued to watch, never looking away from the scene. "Then you do what I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it. You never disobey me. Do you understand the consequences that come with disobedience, Vladimir?"

He said my name. He said my name! Hope flashed across Vlad's face and he moved his own eyes closer to his uncle's. "Yes, yes, yes I do. I'm sorry. I very, very sorry, and I promise I won't ever disobey again. I…" want to stay with you… Vlad stopped and all expression faded from his face as his eyes unfocused, a change that caused his uncle to watch and slowly move away to stand up and look down upon the child. Vlad's eyes were hazy and distant, as if stunned by a blow. White of the eyes rolling back with the spray of dark blood and the droplet of blood that fell from his uncle's hand and the one that slid down his cheek…he saw these things again and no longer knew what he should think or do or say. Beyond hesitation, the boy had revoked all of his pleas and now stared dimly at his uncle. His eyes drifted to the side to look at Jake's father, lingering there before they descended to find the floor, seeing and not seeing it. The quiet was everywhere, filling the room, more so now than before without the boy's fear. Walter came to understand, in this quiet, what was happening to the child. Vlad finally spoke. "Are you a person that does bad things?"

Walter's face didn't change, already wearing his detached expression, but Joshua Savage's face darkened and his head tilted to the side vaguely. So the boy was ignorant of everything. The boy was damn stupid…damn stupid. But… Brown eyes widened a little and the muscles in his neck tightened. That meant that this was more serious than he…no, it was one of the most unfortunate scenarios he had considered.

Walter hadn't said anything, so Vlad glanced up at him emptily and then watched the floor. The boy wasn't sure what he should say with Jake's father present, so he chose his words carefully. "What I saw…you do that? You do that…you- have you done that a lot before?"

Walter was a silent specter, observing the boy to see what would happen next. While deliberating, Vladimir looked less of a child than he ever had in the man's memory. It amused him to some extent, how this was always the case, how a state of urgency or trauma made people seem deceivingly more experienced and removed some of the influence of age. It was the time that distinguished the religious from the faithless, the moral from the monsters, the heroes from the people that just thought they were good. Interesting, nearly fascinating, but mostly amusing.

Vlad dithered for another moment. "You…do that…to people…a lot of people…just whoever-people…walking-people…good-people or bad-people? Or is it…just…anyone?"

There was a pause as attention was diverted to the sound of a lighter sparking a flame to ignite the end of the cigarette hanging from Joshua's mouth. The transparent blue plastic allowed the sloshing of the liquid inside the lighter to be seen before a large hand stuffed it into a denim pocket. The same hand went to hold the lighter while the man dragged on the filter, shortening the length of the cigarette. Walter was listening so he knew exactly what the man was doing and how he would appear. Vlad was staring at him blankly, not thinking. His mind snapped back into thought when the man blew out a stream of smoke and spoke to Walter.

"So he saw your work? Was it a messy one or a clean shot?" Brown glanced at the stunned, gawking boy, remotely touched by grim humor. "That is what he's talking about, right? Or was it another job?"

Another job? Vlad's world slowed for a moment and he grew distant, watching the man draw on his cigarette, some smoke escaping from his mouth or nose, taking another drag before exhaling a cloud, brown eyes returning to Vlad to pull him back. The boy stared, his mouth shut.

The brown eyes watched Vlad though the man spoke to Walter. "Clean? He'd be in hysterics if he saw a- 'messy' one, wouldn't he? Yeah, most likely. But he saw it."

"It was nothing." Walter's deadpan response stole Vlad's eyes and emptied them further. Both men were unresponsive to the concept of spilling human blood.

The memory exploded behind Vlad's eyes, flashes, light, fear, an overwhelming flood of emotion pouring into him... His voice erupted from his lips, suddenly, lifted to the partial screech of a heated young voice. "You cut his head off!" Joshua blinked at the force and flare of resentment in the boy's tone, as well as the remaining airy disbelief that came out as a pant. "He fell down and blood came out like all that was inside of him was blood! Like he was a bag of blood! Endless blood!"

Walter frowned and he moved to focus his weight on one of his legs and slip his hand into his pocket. The words were slow, selected. "I didn't fully decapitate him. Only two thirds or so of the way… I cut the head off later, though. The wobbling was messy and… annoying." Blue narrowed, seeking out the boy's responses. His tactics of intimidation seemed to be wearing thinner than expected on the child.

Vlad stared, filled with more disbelief, fear, and disgust with the douse of incredulity and the feeling of the surreal that washed over him when he heard Jake's father chuckle in the background. Chuckling, like it was a joke to laugh at.

"You think this is funny?" Jake's father lost his amusement at the boy's tone and Walter's frown deepened to affect his forming glare. The indifference in the brown eyes angered Vlad for a reason he could not find. The red gaze narrowed and white teeth snapped. "It's not funny! Killing people isn't funny! It's bad and wrong andsick!"

"Watch your mouth." The warning earned a cautious, yet defiant, stare from the pale child who warily kept his gaze on his uncle. "You don't get to speak to people that way when you're just a shitty little brat. You lecturing and making judgments about anything, is a joke. What do you know, Vladimir? Tell me what you know… People kill and are killed every other second. Who cares who it is, when or where it happens, or how? Dead's dead, get that through your head now and it will save you a life of trouble. There's no good-people or bad-people. There's just people. And I don't care what you think, boy, and no one does. Give people names if you want, it won't mean anything. You don't know anything. You haven't done anything. You're nothing but a worthless bookworm at this point. You think you read something somebody else wrote or heard what somebody else said and now you have the power to say anything and be right about it?"

Large red eyes blinked, following his uncle's words with an echoing conscience. Vlad spoke up with a returning meekness Walter disdained. "But even the Bible says not to kill people…"

"A stupid bookworm response. A bunch of ignorant bastards wrote that book, boy, and there's no getting around that. –Now I'm done discussing this with a brat. You can either come with me or starve in the streets for a few nights. See if your Bible can feed you and keep you warm. I can already tell you that books aren't bullet proof, no matter how many prayers you put in them."

It was quiet, Joshua Savage with his back against the wall, watching smoke collect on the ceiling and disperse. Vlad sat lifelessly on the couch with his uncle standing with mounting impatience in front of him.

"We're leaving." Walter turned and walked briskly from the room to the entrance hall where no door separated the two, and here the man paused for a moment while Vlad slipped off the couch to follow him, the child dragging his small black sneakers over the carpet. The bigger man leaning on the wall had his eyes directed straight ahead at the emptying room, holding his cigarette to his lips. He took it out.

"I'm still a Christian, W.C.D."

Vlad reached his uncle's side after Walter had looked at the other man for a time, until brown glanced at him. "Did I offend you faith, Joel?" Joshua cringed with a bitter smirk when he received the blunt of the sneering sarcasm, and he chuckled to himself, shaking his head and returning his eyes to the room, inhaling smoke and releasing it.

"Nah, I'm a messed up Christian. I thought it was hilarious. …Everything's always hilarious, C.D. Laugh at the world, for all that anyone cares… Full of shits and giggles."

Walter gave his back to the man and headed for the door. Vlad, however, hesitated and looked back at the smoking man, waiting for the eyes. When he had them, the boy gave a kind of vacant nod and spoke in a quiet voice, like a whisper. "Thank you." Joshua kept his gaze on the child after that, unable to find the reason that motivated the boy to thank him. Vlad then faced the end of the hall where he could see the back of the staircase. "Bye Jack-bean."

Walter had just opened the door and now he stopped to look back. Joshua also came into the hall to see if his son was there, but as his eyes roamed he found no sign of Jake. Vlad was looking at the staircase, so the man looked there too. The boy's just saying it to his room-

"Bye kid."

Wood creaked. Jake stood up from where he had been sitting at the top of the stairs. His footsteps were heard when they took him to his room and he closed the door, feigning nonchalance like his life depended on it. Vlad turned and went to his uncle, catching the door when the man refused to hold it open for him. The door shut, leaving Joshua Collin Savage to stand alone in his hallway looking back at it, breathing in the fumes of his cigarette. His hand against his mouth with the filter between two of his fingers, the man sought the staircase, eyes flowing along the edge of the wooden handrail, drifting to the ceiling where he knew his son was in his room.

The steps creaked faintly when the man ascended them, and the floor gave off sound when his shoes came in contact with it. He stopped and tapped on Jake's door, able to sense the tenseness that the door emitted afterwards. But he didn't make the teen come out or explain himself; he only looked at the dark wood with his cigarette hanging from his mouth. "'Night Jake."

The muffled response came after a few seconds of indecision. "'Night Dad."

And then footsteps took the man away from the door and the Savage house was silent.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

My uncle is a bad man. He goes to sleep late and wakes up early. He never eats. He almost never talks to me. He's gone all day, and at night… he cuts people's heads off. Uncle is a bad man. Jake's dad is a bad man too. Bad-people.

Vacant eyes followed Walter as he moved through his home, from his bedroom, though his open doors, and as he passed the boy sitting on the small cloth pallet on the rug where the shadow of the table with the mismatched chairs cloaked him. Blue grazed the boy when Walter passed him, but then flicked ahead to the door and did not return to Vlad. The door opened and then shut.

It was morning. The boy would get dressed, eat breakfast, brush his teeth and hair, and gather his things to go to school, just as he did five times a week, 180 days a year since coming to live with his uncle. Soon Vlad was sitting in a yellow plastic chair behind a wooden desk with a hollowed interior occupied by his books, pencils, folders, and papers. The vacant eyes watched the whiteboard, seeing the varying colors of ink without finding the words and numbers, experiencing the school day without seeing a single face or hearing a single voice. He sat in the shadows under the trees that grew on the other side of the fence around the playground during recess and lunch, wandering over to the isolated location, inherently drawn to the dark setting. No one talked to him. No one looked at him. He was invisible. Vlad was an invisible boy and his uncle was a bad man. Vlad was absent today. He was sleeping. It was so simple, it was revolting.

The day passed away and the bell for dismissal sounded out over the campus and soon Vlad was wandering along the sidewalk with his backpack on his back, leaving the school he had never entered. He didn't go to the hangout. He didn't look for Jake. He went home, took out the key he kept in his shoe and opened the door, entered, and locked it again. The boy had forgotten to eat lunch, but he wasn't hungry. He went to his mat, took off his shoes, and pulled the blanket over his head. He stayed there until the night fell and Walter opened the door and then bolted it shut.

The bad man is home. He kills people at night, but it's not late enough. Only when he comes home late. How many times has he come home late?

Footsteps thumped past Vlad's head and the dull red eyes saw the shadow that moved over his blanket, only now realizing that his eyes were open. They stared at the blanket, hearing the sound of feet and shoes and moving clothes.

Why are there so many bad people? Why are there so many bad people? Why are so many bad people bad? Why are they bad? Why do they hurt people? Why do people have so much blood in them? People are like bags of blood that spill out when they rip. Why is my favorite color red? Blood is blue inside and turns red when it's outside. I'm a bag too, and my uncle is a man that rips bags open and Jake's dad is a man that laughs at the blood and the empty bags-

"Boy. What are you doing with your head covered like that?"

Vlad didn't respond, blinking at the interior of the blanket while his uncle looked down at the covered shape. The man scowled as he bent over and pulled the blanket off the boy's face to reveal the blank eyes. Walter stared at the expressionless white features, his eyes twitching in disturbance at the blankness when Vlad's face didn't change. A gloved hand dropped the blanket and let it fall to cover the boy's face while the man walked away. Walter went to his bedroom and shut the door.

My uncle is a bad man who sleeps without ever saying goodnight.

*~*~*~::..+..::~*~*~*

Vlad was invisible on Tuesday and Wednesday and Thursday. He was invisible for most of Friday, but at the end of Friday it turned out to be a P.E. day, and two captains were selected to pick teams for a game of kickball on the diamond of dirt in the elementary school baseball field. People looked at invisible Vlad and Vlad was no longer invisible. Vlad couldn't be absent from school today when people could see him. The teams were fighting over the order for picking players. Neither team wanted the freak, but the freak was forced upon one of the teams, and the unfortunate students groaned while the others cheered as they ran off to get in line to kick the ball. Vlad drifted into the outfield and watched as the game began and enthusiasm returned to his team while Vlad became invisible again. But soon Vlad had to get in line to kick the ball. He ended up at the end. The first kicker got out when someone caught the large red ball that went flying through the air. When the boy shuffled his feet through the dirt, kicking up enough for a small, creeping cloud, he stopped and looked at the red eyed boy that was staring blankly in front of himself with a generous gap between him and the next person in line. The boy who had gotten out cut in front of the pale freak, grinning smugly to himself afterwards, flashing the grin at Vlad who only blinked, before talking to the person in front of him to complain about the girl that was pitching/rolling the balls to the home plate. They cheered when two of the bases were occupied and a girl scored a home run so that three kids went to the back of the line. The boy that had cut in front of Vlad stopped them when they got in line behind the freak and encouraged the three to cut in front of Vlad so that they could 'actually have a chance at winning the game'. The other students followed suit, so Vlad was invisible again.

"He's too stupid to know anything." "Bet he can't even kick the ball." "He's too stupid to know how to tie his shoes! I bet money your mommy ties your shoes for you. Gah. So stupid, he doesn't even know I'm talking to him." "Ew! You touched him!" "N-No! I didn't!" "Your shoulder did! Gross!" "EWWW!" "You got Vlad-germs! Ew!" "No, don't give them to me! Ew!" "Yeah. Ew!" "Vlad-germs! Vlad-germs! Freak-germs!" "Stop it! Stop it! I don't have 'em! I don't have Vlad-germs! Stop saying that!" "Hey, stop. You're gonna make Emily cry, you jerks. It's okay Emily. I know you didn't touch him, and Stephie's a bitch anyway." "Ya know it. My Mama calls me a piece of work for a reason… Forget it Emily… You didn't touch him, so stop crying. I was just joking, sheesh." Sniff. "Thanks."

Vlad could disappear. No one was looking at him anyway. He wasn't his name or his germs. He would just stand still and hope no one accidentally bumped him and got his gross germs, his freak disease. He went to the outfield and stood still. He stood still in line. Out in the field a ball came to his feet, so he picked it up and threw it to second base. The girl at second base wouldn't touch the ball, she ducked away when it bounced towards her, squealing about icky germs and how Vlad was gross and had never washed his hands in his life, which wasn't true. It made the other kids laugh on the other team, but Vlad's team turned hateful looks to the boy when the other team scored a home run and the teacher made them use the ball he had touched. The boy that was pitching rolled the ball around in the dirt, touching it gingerly with his fingers like it was some kind of radioactive debris. The boy cringed dramatically when he had to pick it up and pitch, tossing it the same way he might toss something smeared with dog shit. And so, the game continued with the contaminated ball, until P.E. ended and the students returned to their classroom.

Vlad went home and pulled the blanket over his head. The bad man came home after he had fallen asleep.

The bad man woke him up the next day, and the blue eyes stared at the child that gazed back up at him, lying on the mat, rarely blinking. Walter frowned and then hissed in disgust, throwing the blanket \so that it draped over one of the mismatched chairs.

"It's 3 in the afternoon. Are you some kind of worthless scumbag that sleeps all day and doesn't do anything? You're the perfect candidate for a homeless bum, kid. Completely worthless. Get out of the house. Get out now!" Walter barked, glowering down at the gaping, vacant eyes. In a flare of disdain, he shoved the boy's shoulder with his shoe, in the movement of kicking him without injuring the child, pushing Vlad off of the mat and onto the rug covered floor. "Get up, damn it! You want to be worthless, do it elsewhere. Die in a gutter or something, brat. Just get out of my house!"

Vlad crawled to his feet and left, following his uncle's order, ignorant of the wrinkles in his clothes that made his uncle scowl and kick the boy's pallet so that the mat folded and caught in a twisted shape beneath the table and the legs of the mismatched chairs. Vlad shut the door gently and walked away, trudging through the short, descending hill of grass under the trees to reach the sidewalk. He wandered down the path of concrete and drifted through the city streets, finding darker and darker shadows to melt into.

The street was dark and the sky was dark, everything was dark when Vladimir trudged over the grass once more to reach the front door of his uncle's home. The child's fist knocked on the door and then fell to his side. He waited for a long time, but time meant nothing to him so it didn't matter that he was waiting. Vlad wasn't missing anything, there wasn't anything he wanted to do, time had no worth right now, just like his next breath or thought. He just wanted to sleep.

Suddenly light shone on the pale face and red eyes brightened when darkness was dispersed by the open door. Walter stood in the doorway, a removed gaze observing the boy. His mouth creasing with a frown, the man spoke. "You have a key."

Vlad's eyes were unfocused, seeing only the dark blur of his uncle's figure and the light beyond him inside. "I don't know if I'm allowed in." The demure voice murmured, no eye contact being made with Walter now.

Blue narrowed, lit only by their own thoughts while the light inside could not reach them. Walter said nothing but turned and left the door open. Vlad waited a few moments before going inside, shutting and locking the door behind him before he bolted it for the night. The child went to his crumpled, twisted mat and pulled it from the table and chair legs with an impassive movement of his muscles. The pale hands were smoothing the mat when Vlad noticed that his uncle was watching him from the other room, leaning against the couch with his gloves on the thick armrest. Vlad didn't look at him; instead, he took off his shoes and stuffed his socks into them so he could hide himself beneath his blanket. Walter continued to watch him, his face darkening in degrees with his thoughts, eyes analyzing the shape beneath the blanket.

At least he remembered to take off his shoes this time. "Boy?"

It was quiet, but Vlad pulled himself from the blanket to look at the man through the open doorway. The child didn't give a verbal response, but his uncle overlooked this for the time being, watching the boy's bare features and listless eyes.

"Did you eat anything today?"

Vlad blinked and his eyes traveled over the floor when his head dipped as he pondered the odd question. Had he eaten? He couldn't remember. Had he eaten anything yesterday? What was yesterday? Did he miss school today, or was today Saturday? Or was it Sunday? It was probably Saturday since yesterday had been a school day, a Friday… Had he eaten anything today? "No."

Walter said nothing. Vlad turned over and pulled the blanket over his head again. The lights in the room with the couch, along with the lights in the rest of the house, were turned off a few minutes later. The house with filled with silence.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

If his uncle hadn't dragged him out of bed and shoved him out the door, Vlad would have stayed under his blanket, but because of his uncle, the boy was sitting on the couch in the empty hangout looking around without much interest. A lot of time had past. How much, he wasn't sure, but he didn't feel bored. He was content to sit and do nothing, something, his uncle said was worthless. That was one of the bad man's favorite words right now. Worthless.

So what wasn't worthless?

Vlad was distracted from his thoughts when voices came from the alley outside, rebounding off the solid walls of the other buildings. The boy heard the door open and a small collection of teens entered, none of them seeing the invisible Vlad. Because Vlad was an invisible boy. No one could see Vlad, but Vlad could see everyone. He saw Jake so he stared at the moving young giant as Jake moved to the carpeted area where the round table was set. Cards and bottles came to occupy the empty wooden space and smoke thickened the air from the cigarettes that were just now lit or had been brought together with branches of fleeing smoke, inside. The invisible boy watched them. The sky became orange and red like someone had spilled orange juice and cranberry juice all over the heavens and it was now raining down as light. Vlad saw this light coming through the window as he sat on the couch, thinking of juice with the space and the clouds. The clouds were soaking up the juice, draining the sky to make it dark. He brought his knees to his chest and hugged them, with his chin tucked in his arms on his knees.

"Oh, wow! Alucard's here. Didn't even notice ya, kid." Faces were turned to Vlad, most still showing surprise, others with a hint of annoyance. Vlad strained his neck to see them without releasing his knees. The teens looked at him and some of them frowned and diverted their attention to their cards. "Hey." Vlad's eyes lost some of the haze that had been clouding them for the past week when he heard the familiar deep voice and his gaze settled on Jake who was turned around in his chair, watching him with a neutral expression. A large hand motioned to the boy. "C'mon over here. Don't sit over there by yourself like some loner. Sit with us."

Without a reason not to sit with Jake, Vlad quietly released his legs and went to the table, sitting in a chair that was pulled to occupy an empty spot near Jake. Vlad sat down and watched the game, easily fading into the background with Jake when the others became louder, talking, bragging, and joking. Jake was focusing on his cards, aware of the red eyes that could see them, but permitting Vlad to peek at them.

"Not saying much today?"

Black hair swished when Vlad shook his head without taking his eyes from the cards. Jake glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and then maintained the glance for longer than he had intended. The teen participated in the card game and more time passed before he spoke again. "You look like you're sick." Vlad didn't say anything, so Jake continued. "Are you?"

"No."

They were quiet in the background until the teens tired of the game and decided on a winner so that they could disperse to stalk the night life of the city. Vlad followed them into the shadowed streets but departed when they assimilated into another crowd of teens with girls thrown into the mix. Jake called them 'loose' and he said 'sluts' were fun, but the teens didn't want Vlad hanging around like unwanted baggage, Vlad would make the girls go away since he always made people go away, as a result Vlad went home.

The bad man wasn't home, so Vlad went to sleep.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

Monday was a P.E. day. They ran a few laps around the track before they stretched and played kickball. Vlad didn't get to stretch or play. When he was running, he fell down and didn't get up. Scraped hands pushed him to a sitting position so that faded scarlet eyes could peer at the running feet that were leaving him behind. Then the boy sat there in the dirt until the P.E. instructor came to him. He was sent to the nurse and then forwarded home.

To his surprise, the bad man was home and the bad man was staring at him with narrowing eyes from the table where he was reading with a newspaper unfolded in front of him. Vlad stared for a moment, then looked away and closed the door quietly. He stood by the door without venturing further into the house, unsure of what to do while his eyes were fixed to the floor. Walter frowned and a gloved hand let go of the edge of the newspaper.

"What are you doing? You're not supposed to be home for another hour, boy. What happened to going to school?" Walter spoke more than he had intended, filling empty space Vlad's silence left gaping. The man's teeth clenched, his eyes hardening when a reply did not come immediately. He faced Vlad, his arm rising to rest along the back of his chair.

"The nurse sent me home. She said I was sick."

Walter didn't even blink, watching the boy. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, child. Look at me." Red lifted to meet blue. Walter analyzed the faded color, his expression unchanging. "Did you eat today?"

All of Vlad's responses were slow to come and his voice came in only one quiet volume, never a fluctuation disturbing the constant monotone. "I ate some toast."

"What about lunch?"

"I wasn't hungry."

Walter's eyes had grown meaner, his mouth creasing with a deeper frown while his brow lowered to create a glare. The boy disgusted him to the extent that he could no longer ignore Vlad's behavior. "Vladimir!"

The boy jolted, stepping back and staring at his uncle, startled by the sudden exclamation. He continued to stare dumbly at the man, his eyes wide and blinking. Walter watched him in silence, examining the boy's appearance with darkened eyes. A lowered, menacing voice went to the child, freezing his frame. "Snap out of this, boy. I'm not one to cater to your feelings. Stop moping and pull yourself together. You're not sick anywhere but in your head."

The vacant look had returned to the pale boy and his eyes had lowered, pupils dilating to remove the crispness of his sight. Walter's glare eased to indifference, gazing at the boy that stood as a shadow before the door, from his chair. His arm came down to his lap from the back of the chair and the man transferred his attention to his newspaper. The black leather of his glove reflected light in patches that were not as worn as others when his hand grasped the newspaper to adjust it so that he could read the print. Vlad's mat was by his feet, pushed to the side against one of the table legs. The boy noticed this and stared at his uncle and then the rug on the floor. He stood there without doing anything, stepping back to lean against the door. Walter looked up when he saw that Vlad's form had disappeared, his eyes flowing down the door to where his nephew was now sitting on the floor.

Pathetic child.

With black bangs hanging over his eyes, the boy remained slouched against the door, where he ultimately fell asleep.

When he woke during the hours of the night, his head was on a pillow, his feet were bare, and warm sheets and a blanket covered him. It was dark, but Vlad could tell that he was in his uncle's room, and that the blanket and sheets were his uncle's. Dark lashes rose and fell, fighting sleep before giving in when they closed and Vlad turned over to find a more comfortable position, curling up in the empty bed.

How could his uncle be a bad man? His uncle was his uncle. He was rough, cold, but took responsibility for raising him. When he had belted him, it had only stung. It had been scary but it hadn't hurt that much. His father's beltings had left his backside red and raw, the consequence for drawing on the wall for the millionth time. What were the consequences for disobeying his uncle? Abandonment. His uncle didn't need to keep him, but he was. Vlad was stupid, ugly, diseased, and worthless, but his uncle still gave him money to buy groceries and told him what clothes he should go out and buy.

His uncle was a bad man, but he was a good bad man and the two canceled each other, leaving only a man behind.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

It was late morning, Vlad could somehow feel that it was late, and he was still in his uncle's bed. The child sat up, feeling the lightheadedness of hunger fly off with his thoughts, leaving him empty, his mind echoing the quiet in the room. He left the bed and the room to find the clock in the kitchen that told him it was past ten o'clock. With nothing but empty space pressing on him from every direction, Vlad gathered his things while toast browned in the toaster and the boy left for school, eating the buttered bread as he walked.

Butter left some remnants of grease on his fingers, which he rubbed off on his jeans before touching the door to the office. He checked in and received a late pass from a woman he did not recognize. The classroom looked up with eyes of prejudice and judgment when he gave the note to his teacher. He went to his desk, pricked by the whispers of children callously complaining about his return to school. They had enjoyed the lack of germs and the absence of the freak's smell. Vlad sat down without a word, aware that he did not smell. He didn't smell clean, but he didn't smell bad…or maybe he did. He wasn't sure, but he still didn't say a word in response. Vlad followed the class and left the school at the end of the day, returning home to deposit his school things and to grab a frozen strawberry that he rolled around in his mouth when he trudged through the grass and strolled down the sidewalk.

The hangout was empty so he wandered aimlessly with the thought of coming across Jake. He wanted to follow the teen around like he usually did, accompanying the young giant when he was allowed to. But Jake's whereabouts eluded the child. Walter, however, was detected a block down the line of pavement, getting into a car with Jake's father, a few strangers joining them.

Were they bad people? They were with his uncle, and his uncle wasn't bad, not really bad.

There are just people, like his uncle had said, so Vlad climbed a fire escape and part of a wall to reach the rooftops, following the car from above, following his uncle like he had on that one night. His sharp eyesight allowed him to track the car, leaping over breaks between buildings, scaling the short distance that lifted one roof above another, or jumping down when necessary. Vlad didn't stop until the car did, in a part of the city he'd never been in. Steam rose to build clouds from the stacks on the roof from which he spied. Walter was with the men that went down some steps to enter a door that seemed to lead into a building where the first floor was beneath the pavement that turned off of the street. It was a secluded location with a lack of human presence, becoming lifeless with the exception of the billowing steam from the roof stacks, when the group of men disappeared into the building. Vlad waited a moment and then picked his way down, clinging to the wall when he found a small, rectangular window that was cracked open. A black sneaker pushed it wider without emitting sound, allowing the dark shadow of the boy to slip inside and dive down the wall to hide in the gathered assortment of furniture and objects. Vlad dropped to a crouch on a cabinet, wary of the voices he could hear, unable to pick out distinctive words. But he was not hiding from voices; he was hiding from the bodies he could see standing outside the yawning frame that lacked a door.

He was almost entirely exposed. If one of the men turned their head he would be discovered. Excitement fluttered in his chest as his muscles creaked, slowly bringing him to the edge of the cabinet so that he could get off of it to find a better hiding spot.
…Then his whole world fell away in a moment that stole his heartbeat.

The cabinet suddenly toppled when the single leg of the table it had been sitting on made the structure rock with the displacement of weight, Vlad moving the table, tipping the cabinet when he put his shoe on the edge of it. The explosion of sound drowned out the murmur of voices as objects fell to bury the boy beneath them. Vlad remained frozen, stunned and lying on his back, able to see the ceiling where nothing had come to cover his face. Foot steps. Many, hurried footsteps. He heard them, and his gut twisted, his heart pounded, his instincts screamed at him to hide…so he did. Vlad scrambled away before quiet had returned to the room, displacing more things that seemed to be settling after falling from their perches. The thin child was able to slip under something that was low and provided darkness and cover. He felt like he was hiding beneath a part of the floor, and for a moment he was convinced that he had somehow found a way to get beneath the floor boards. Heavy steps landed on top of him. Someone was searching through the jumbled ruin.

I hope I didn't break anything. It was a petty thought, but Vlad still experienced his anxious guilt along with his anxiety in his fear of being discovered. His uncle would be so mad. Please don't find me. God, please don't let them find me. I won't ever do it again. I wasn't being bad. I just wanted to see. I didn't want to break anything. I promise, God, so please- Oh God. Red eyes snapped shut and Vlad's arms crossed in front of his head to hide himself when a hand swiped at the opening into his hiding place. The hand never touched him, but its proximity injected a hardy dose of alarm into the boy's blood stream. Don't breathe! Don't swallow! Don't move! Don't make a sound! Be a mouse, a mouse, quiet as a mouse…

The footsteps stopped sounding over his head. As Vlad listened with his eyes shut tight, it seemed like they had given up on him.

"Just something fell. I think it was that cabinet over there. I told 'em not to put that damn thing on that goddamn table. It wobbles." "Of all the times for your stupid screw ups-! Enough. We apologize for this. We'll get back to busi-" "Oh. You think-? Alright. You, get him."

Vlad's chest heaved with quiet, deep breaths, ignoring the dust that tickled his throat unpleasantly and the dirt that was surrounding him. Don't think of spiders. Don't move yet. It'll be okay. I'll just leave when its quiet and they're gone. Yeah, when they're gone-

The footsteps suddenly returned, hitting the wood above his head, hard. Alien scraping sounds were present as well, along with sniffing sounds, clacking sounds, an animal sound.

Sniff, sneeze, sniff. Vlad's body drained of warmth, tingling with rising goosebumps. The way into his hiding place was blocked by the sniffing animal with the claws that scraped over the hard floor when its body jolted with a savage bark. The barking rose and came with a furious torrent of movement and voices. The dog was allowed to shove its snout into the boy's hiding space, sharp teeth snapping at Vlad so that he had to scoot away and press into the back of his hiding spot. Rank breath assaulted his senses and made his eyes water, unable to close for the terrible fangs that held them. The dog whined when hands dragged it away, and Vlad was tempted to make the same sound when different hands touched the floor and a face came level with his own.

There was a gun pointed at his face. That was Vladimir's first experience with a gun. It terrified him.

"NO! DON'T SHOOT! DON'T SHOOT! I DIDN'T MEAN TOO! DON'T SHOOT!"

Emotion altered the hard face that Vlad could see and the gun was jerked away in surprise. Then the man cursed at the dark space he was looking into, slowly registering a small outline. "Shit! It's a kid!" Without warning or a scarce trace of gentleness, the man grabbed at what he deemed to be the child's shirt or jacket and pulled on Vlad, dragging him out of his haven. Once he was out and held to the ground, too horrified to speak, the man stared at him for a moment, shock and revulsion overwhelming him so that he forgot the men that were waiting for him to bring out the trespasser. "Holy fuck! What the hell is this kid? Fuck!" Vlad was lifted to his feet and pushed over a pile of things so that he stumbled before the collected group of cold eyes that judged him with a gaze much crueler than those of his classmates. Too much chaos throwing his thoughts into disarray, Vlad could not pick out his uncle or the large form of Jake's father as the two stood in the midst of the group, watching him. The dog barked and lunged against its chain, the end of which strained in a solid grasp. "Look at this! What the hell is he anyway? Goddamn ugly sucker. How'd he get in?" The hand of the man who still held onto his gun clamped down on Vlad's shoulder, holding him captive, unable to move away from the snapping jaws of the outraged Doberman pincher. The boy whimpered and tugged at the grip to get farther away from the animal, but the man held him in place and cursed at him for trying to get away.

"Oh fuckin' Hell." Savage sucked in a breath, staring at the frightened pale child, seeing the darting red eyes. Vlad's hands clasped one another over his chest and his feet tripped, sending him back closer to the man that gripped his arm when the dog managed to gain another couple of inches in his direction. The muscles, claws, teeth, and size of the beastly creature intimidated the boy into giving a low keen which continued when his eyes swept over the men. They were talking low, full of anger and disgust, not a drop of pity to be found but in the silent giant.

Jake? Vlad gasped, blinking with wider eyes. No. Jake's dad! His eyes fell to the man's side. Uncle! My uncle! … The kindling light of hope choked on Walter's detached expression and was then doused out with fear when Vlad spied the trembling scowl. The Angel of Death was furious beyond comparison to any memory in the child's mind. He just helped me, let me sleep in his bed, and now I do this? I follow him again and get in all this trouble…? Shame cleared some of the panic from Vlad's head, letting his senses better evaluate his position.

"What should we do with him?" "I can't believe you stupid bastards let this happen! With the Angel of Death here! My god!" These were hushed voices, but full of emotion. A man was pointing at Vlad, others were as well, gesturing at his odd appearance or blaming individuals for letting him sneak in. Trouble. He was in big trouble.

Uncle. Walter had taken a few slow steps in Vlad's direction, demanding instantaneous silence from the room so that his footsteps could be heard. Vlad had trepidation tingling in his marrow while some faint relief and thankfulness also entered his body. Then he numbed and all eyes watched without thought or opinion when Walter touched the dog that was still growling at the boy, black eyes of hate glued to the pale skin and dark clothes with all the malevolence that the dog could muster for an enemy. There was a click as the chain was unhooked from the Doberman's collar, and then came the raging blast of growling snarls when the dog attacked, flying free once Walter had released it Vlad let out a strangled screech and fell back with the weight of the dog attached to his stomach where the jaws had closed on his clothes, shaking him, ripping cloth. The jaws were a flash of motion, as were the blunt claws and hard limbs that the boy's hands tried to push away. His arm was bitten, his chest, his stomach, his wrist, his ribs, and his shoulder, were tattooed with bleeding bites. The hot breath felt cold, as if the fangs were sabers carved from ice, snapping at the air close to his throat. Vlad turned over, trying to protect his face. Teeth bit his head and a snarl filled his ear after a sharp bark when Vlad screamed. It bit his back and paws attached to muscled forelegs pushed down on Vlad in a rush to get to his neck.

The boy threw himself as far as he could, which was only a few inches, turning himself with his hands and sneakers against the floor. He came face to face with the dog when it came upon his chest, black pits staring into the bright scarlet eyes. Instinct came to Vlad when no thoughts could breach his mind, consumed by fear and dread and rage. The sudden torrent of rage that this animal should take his life.

It was an urge, the need he suddenly felt, to fight back, to intimidate back. So he snarled back at the fangs, baring his own teeth, his pupil's shrinking, stabbing into the animal's glare, and when the dog hesitated, Vlad lunged, grabbing at the dog as if his hands were talons, hissing and growling like he was a beast himself. A canine mouth and a human mouth came close together, biting at air, teeth snapping together. They rolled back, claws scratching Vlad's skin and making contact with his jaw when he forced the dog down. It was like had had been punched and scratched at all in one motion. The jaws came forward, red eyes saw, so a pale hand thrust out to catch them, holding them off and keeping them apart even as the teeth cut his fingers. Vlad's mind was empty of human thought, only drive, animalistic drive to fight and survive, hatred, anger, fear, and exhilaration. He felt the pain from his body. He felt that he was losing blood, that fatigue and blood loss were weakening him, but he felt as if he had a monstrous strength suddenly, and something that made him more worthy to live than the animal. No thought. No plan. Hands bleeding, head bleeding, body bleeding, hurting, pain, panic, hatred, hatred…

The gurgled scream of an agonized beast ripped through Vlad's numbness, pushing him back and away from the animal so that he sat on the flow, panting with wide, crazed eyes that slowly returned to sanity and thought, catching up on what had just happened.

The dog's jaws were torn wide open, a gaping, mangled picture of something that barely resembled a dog's snout, left with the animal's blood and the child's blood that had come from Vlad's fingers that now trembled incessantly while he stared. There was blood on his own human mouth, his blood and the dog's blood. The blood that was pooling from the Doberman's throat as if all that was contained in the beast was flowing from it. Like the man his uncle had killed. Blood poured from the hole that had been ripped into the creature's neck by Vlad's blunt teeth, the white teeth that were now stained with the blood of a beast and a human, the dog's and his own. As Vlad watched, the dog suffered, bleeding, whining, screaming…. And then it died when its voice turned to silence.

And the room was silence as well. Silence, death, emptiness, shock, and fear. Grown men were afraid or intimidated in some way. But Walter's anger had been appeased.

"Joel. Clean him up and then come back."

That was all that was said. There were no other words. Vlad was carried from the room, barely awake, his head in a distant land far far away from Hell and even farther away from Earth. The large hands tried to be gentle, but Vlad's wounds still sparked with pain that made the boy gasp when his injuries were cleaned with water and a dabbing towel. Hydrogen Peroxide bubbled and fizzled, drawing out distant, muffled whimpers. Then Vlad remembered curling up in a corner on a soft carpet flooring, leaning against the wall with bandages and band aids beneath his tattered and torn, bloodied clothes.

Then he was in the car. After that, he saw the doctor he'd seen before when he had been hurt by Jake. He got stitches, on his scalp, on his lip,and on his shoulder near the base of his neck. He wore patches and more bandages to bed that night.

And he slept in his uncle's room.

Uncle is a bad man. Uncle is a bad man, but I still want him. I still want my uncle and I do not want to lose him.

But he doesn't care if I die. I mean nothing. I mean nothing to everybody and nobody.

But why is he giving me water?

It was morning and Vlad was propped up in the bed beneath a layer of band aids of various sizes, stitches, and bandages that held his battered, bruised, and scabbed body together. From beneath his wounds and his pain and weakness, the boy stared at the glass of water in the man's hand. His injured hands accepted the water, though it hurt. And pale lips touched the glass, though it hurt. And the boy swallowed the water, though it tasted of blood iron. He was thirsty, but it hurt, so he drank as much as he could. He missed school, sleeping without his uncle saying a word against his 'laziness'. His uncle remained in the house until late afternoon when Vlad began to wander from room to room, limping and moving slowly. The boy managed to eat, use the bathroom, and function on his own, returning to the comfortable bed with a book he was reading for school, one that he enjoyed. Vlad turned on the bedside lamp so that he could read peacefully.

Walter came home late, when Vlad had fallen asleep with the book in his hands, but as Walter stood, looking down at the damaged pale face, the large crimson eyes, again retaining light, opened and gazed back at the man. Neither spoke and neither possessed thoughts.

"Boy, are you part demon?"

Vlad blinked, but his overall expression did not change, showing no alarm. He had been asked that question before. "No..…but I'm part 'you'."

A flash of surprise crossed Walter's face, his eyes widening, lips parting, gaze clearing of darkness for a moment, and then the man's features moved to display an amused, thoughtful smirk. Vlad watched, his hurt mouth hesitant to speak, but he forced himself too, blocking out the pain.

"Uncle…are you glad I didn't die?"

The amusement stayed with Walter when the boy's words continued to hold some interest for him to feed off of. "If you had died it would have been troublesome. Sending you away would be much cleaner."

Is that a yes or a no? What had he meant by 'cleaner'? Vlad wondered, but his optimism favored 'yes' with his uncle's maintained smirk. Walter did not give him that expression often, and it was oddly consoling.

"Never follow me again. I will bring you if I want you."

A carefully preformed nod of the pale head was all that was needed to satisfy Walter.

As time passed and Vlad's wounds healed more quickly than they should have, noted by his uncle who found this to be a curious fact, Vlad coexisted with the bad man and the bad man's 'badness' became less apparent, seen only as a component of his uncle's character. And so, younger Vlad came to know more about his uncle and to understand his new life; the life the older Vlad was returning to, submerged beyond the surface he had been aware of after he had come to accept his uncle and crime, things that were both bad and not bad.

It was his life.