"Alright Dad, I'm off," Irene called, picking up her lunch kit.
Her father stepped out of the living room, walked over, and gave her a side hug. "Have a good day at school, kiddo, and take care of yourself while I'm gone."
Irene tensed, drawing up her shoulders. "I'll do my best, Dad," she murmured. Even her best was not enough lately. Mr. Locklyn leaned over and kissed the top of his daughter's head, and the scent of Old Spice teased her nostrils. "When's your flight?"
"I have to be at the airport by 1:00 pm." Her father released her. "I'll leave some cash in my sock drawer in case of emergencies, and I've already transferred money for transportation and groceries into your account."
"Safe travels." Irene hefted her backpack over her shoulder and walked out the door into the rain, trying to block out the anger and dismay at being left behind with Cyrus.
After school, Irene gazed out of the bus window at a large puddle. Droplets gathered from the power lines and fell, leaving large ripples. She reflected on how one incident had spread out to every aspect of her life. She wouldn't mind her father being gone so much if vampires weren't threatening her. Merle and her wouldn't have Cyrus to argue about. As for her teetering relationship with Jordan, it was difficult to think clearly under the dark cloud Cyrus cast.
The bus began to move. Other students chatted with each other. But one remark in particular caught her attention.
"Turns out Katie and Ashley's deaths were related after all. It's always the quiet ones..." a familiar brunette remarked from the other side of the aisle.
"Oh, do tell!"
"I don't know all the details, and Jim wouldn't talk about it. But I heard from my Dad who heard from his friend that does janitorial work at the precinct that they found the knife used to kill Ashley!"
Irene tried not to look. The last time she took notice the girls had clammed up.
"So how is Katie connected?"
"They found Katie's bloody fingerprints on the weapon. They are now treating the case as a murder suicide."
"WHAT!?" One of the girls laughed. "Oh come on, I don't believe that. No way could Katie take Ashley."
"No mistake! But since Katie is dead, no one will truly know what happened between them."
"No wonder Jim didn't want to talk about it. I guess you never really know a person."
"Like I said, it's always the quiet ones." Irene felt a tingling on her neck and she finally hazarded a glance over. She saw the two girls looking at her warily. Upon seeing her look their way, they turned to each other and began whispering and giggling.
Irene leaned her head against the back of her seat. Of course they would frame it on one of their victims. They make sure to pick on those who can't defend themselves. A mild pain traveled along her sternum as her chest felt tight. She runned just under her collar bone, trying to take slow breaths.
There was an even deeper thorn in Irene's side than the posthumous damage to the victims' characters. And that was the injustice Irene participated in. She'd scoured the newspapers for any mention of a dead body matching Robin's description. She looked around whenever she passed the motel he stayed at. She kept hoping someone would be looking for him. She was terrified of her role in his death being discovered, but angry the longer his disappearance went unnoticed. Self loathing bubbled deep in her gut the longer she left his fate unconfessed. She, too, had taken advantage of those who could not defend themselves.
Once she secured her own safety, she needed to make all of this right.
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A book lay open across Irene's chest as she stared at the ceiling. With a click, she turned off her bedside lamp and set the book down. It was well past midnight, but her attempts to sleep had been thwarted by fear and guilt. She closed her eyes, too exhausted to keep them open. At last her thoughts were too incoherent to hold her attention. Just as she finally relaxed, a shrieking gale rattled the window pane.
Heart racing, she crept to the window, peeking through the curtains. Nothing to see out there. This had become something of a routine for her whenever she awoke. She thought she heard water rushing, but it may have been her imagination. The sound had stopped. But it made her aware of a rather full bladder.
Shuffling into the hall, she noticed light outlining the bathroom door. Did I leave the light on? As she was about to open it, it swung open of its own accord, causing Irene to jump back. Standing in the doorway was Cyrus, hair damp and curling about his pale face. He raised his eyebrows, his hands finding the either edge of the doorframe. To Irene's dismay, he wasn't wearing anything at all. She immediately looked away, bringing a hand up to shield her eyes.
"Rude!" cried Cyrus in a scandalized tone. "You're going to give me body image issues."
"I'm rude? What do you think you are doing? You can't just walk around my house naked!" Irene hissed, keeping her eyes averted.
"I forgot a towel." Cyrus pouted in mock innocence. "Be a doll and grab me one?"
Irene's first impulse was to turn and leave. Instead, she sighed and walked over to the linen closet to grab him one, not wanting him to drip all over the carpet. The last thing she'd need would be to stumble down the dark hallway in her socks and end up stepping in a soggy patch.
Irene returned and tossed the recently acquired towel to Cyrus. Laughing, he caught it. In just those few seconds her eyes had wandered where she didn't want them to. Instead of looking away in disgust, something occurred to her that did not add up. In spite of herself, she found herself looking at his naked body with a nearly clinical detachment and critical eye.
"Cyrus?"
"Yes?" Cyrus used the towel to fluff his hair instead of wrapping it about his waist.
"If vampires don't have a pulse, then how-"
"Am I so magnificently tumescent?" Cyrus asked playfully as he finally girded himself.
Irene had no idea what that meant, but had a strong conviction it was something inappropriate. She turned to leave, but stalled when she heard Cyrus speak.
"I'm not dead. I have a heart." Irene looked over her shoulder. Cyrus flicked his wrist in the air. "I have a pulse. Well. When I need one." One hand on his towel, Cyrus walked over to her. Irene half turned to him, but didn't fully face him, ready to leave if he made any wrong moves. He held out his free hand, wrist up. "Go on, feel for yourself."
Hesitation had become Irene's enemy, yet still she remained where she was instead of leaving as she ought. Curiosity battled with her fear, but won out. She placed two fingers on the veins along the underside of his wrist.
Thump.
Through the skin she could feel the expanding and contracting of blood pumping through his vessels, like any living being. Her hand jerked away and she stepped back.
In the light cast into the hallway from the bathroom, Irene could see an odd expression on Cyrus's face. Not the usual smug grin or skin-crawling leer. His eyebrows were furrowed, and she wasn't quite sure if his mouth was frowning or not, but it did seem to have a subtle downward tug at the corners "Irene... if I were mortal, would you still find me repulsive?"
"Yes. It's who you are, not what you are that I despise," Irene responded firmly.
"Hmmm..." Cyrus ran his fingers through his hair, shaking the damp locks to get more air where the towel failed to wick. "No, I think there's something more going on here. I've been hated before, and what can I say? People love to hate me, hate to love me, and everything in between. But I get an odd...." he waved his hand in the air, "...vibe off of you. Or lack of one."
"Well I'm glad you're so self aware." Irene responded sarcastically. "I don't understand why you don't just go away. Get far away from Gabriel. Start over somewhere new..." she swung out her arm, gesturing to her home. "Why stay here?"
"It's not that simple." Cyrus stepped closer, locking eyes with her. Irene took another step away. She broke the gaze immediately, remembering the power he had during eye contact. She turned to calculate how quickly she could get to the safety of her room. His gaze followed hers and he nodded. "Go on, run to your sanctuary."
Irene didn't hesitate this time. She fled to her room and slammed the door. She put her hand to her racing heart, certain she'd just dodged a bullet.
Sickness joined the palpitations. It was distressing to think of him as alive. Her hand went from her chest to her mouth. All of her fantasies of killing him flashed through her mind, including her one botched attempt. Thinking of him as a living person made the thought sickening. Once again, Cyrus had left her questioning her own morality.
He was also obstructing her need to relieve herself. Irene paced and wriggled impatiently waiting for the sound of footsteps on the basement stairs, her fear of him, her fear of her own dark impulses, and her bladder urgency all whirling her into a panic. Damn him!
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I'm going to miss the bus. Why did Mrs. Porter choose today of all days to talk to me about my slipping grades? Irene hurried across the schoolyard to the parking lot, eyes on the large yellow bus, willing it to wait for her. There were still some students getting on, and she might make it.
That was when she heard a familiar female voice call her name. Not now! Despite herself, Irene slowed down and looked around until she spotted her tempestuous friend bounding up to her..
“What?”
Merle matched strides with Irene, but was breathing too heavy to answer. Eyeing the bus and then glancing at her watch, Irene stopped and put her hands on his hips, arching an eyebrow at her friend. After a series of heavy heaves, Merle glanced up with a little smirk. “I thought maybe we could get something sweet."
Although the extension of an olive branch would normally come as a relief, all Irene felt was impatience. She looked at her watch, trying to decide how to best budget her time. It was a sunny day for that time of year, and there might be time for an after school treat. The hiss of the bus doors closing signalled that she'd missed her window anyway. No sense in fussing what couldn't be helped. Watching the bus slowly pull out, Irene shrugged. “Sure."
Merle’s smile grew as she beamed at Irene. “Cool! I’ll pay! Vice Cream or Timmy’s?”
It was too cold for ice cream, but Irene knew Merle loved it so much that she could settle down on a couch in the middle of a winter storm and spoon away a whole bucket. “Ice cream would be fine."
Merle’s grin continued its radiance, outshining the afternoon sun. She walked with a bounce in her step as they headed down the street. Irene was already mentally reviewing the city bus schedule to know when she'd have to leave to be home before dark.
As the two girls walked, Merle had the decency to not bring up their previous conversation, and instead talked about whatever ran to the tip of her tongue. Advertisements, billboards, people, and cars were all kindling for her flood of rambling. Irene listened, nodding her head to show that she was paying attention, and occasionally adding a word here or there.
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A few times Irene looked over her shoulder out of habit. Sometimes she'd see a man in a long coat not far behind, but then she reasoned on a clear day it couldn't be a vampire. It must just be a coincidence.
“So… what do you want?” Merle chirped as they stood in line.
“I’ll have..." Irene scanned the lit up menu, "...a banana split,” she decided to her own surprise. She originally wanted something small, but the smells and sights excited a larger appetite.
Irene waited in a booth by the window, which she looked out as pedestrians strolled by. A tray was set down in front of her, and she second guessed her decision when she stared at the creamy monstrosity. Heaps of soft serve and whipped topping with chocolate fudge swirls and an underwhelming sprinkling of nuts stared back at her. Somewhere in there was a banana, she hoped. Her friend happily dug into a decadent brownie fudge sundae, while Irene demurely set about excavating for fruit.
After a few mouthfuls, Merle looked up at Irene intently. "So, I noticed you've been spending time with that Joseph kid."
"And you've been spending a lot of time with Jordan," Irene shot back before she could rein her tongue in. Merle paused, eyebrows lifted, and then gave a unilateral shrug as she stirred the contents of her sundae around, releasing the sweet and earthy aroma of the hot chocolate fudge.
"Well, yeah. I know with your Dad gone so much, you don't have as much time to visit him."
Irene nodded her head as she crunched on some nuts, trying not to let any shards get wedged between her teeth. Focusing on the textures helped her keep her own feelings in check. "Yeah. You're right." She sighed, regret filling her chest. "I'm glad you help cheer him up. Just so long as that's all you're doing."
"Whaddya mean?" Merle looked up with wide eyes, fudge dripping down her chin. Her freckled cheeks were already getting rosy, which was a sign for Irene to back off.
"I mean that he doesn't need to hear about our spats or any other drama. Don't talk about anything that might worry him."
"I try NOT to. But he does ask about you. What am I to say?" Merle waved her spoon around in exasperation.
"Ah... well..." Irene muttered, not wanting to say what was on the tip of her tongue. Telling Merle to try even harder or just not visit wasn't going to make this conversation any more pleasant, nor would it change anyone's behaviour for the better.
"So. Joseph." Merle single-mindedly got the conversation back on track. "Remember when you said that goths were pretentious attention seekers with no more depth than a saltine?"
Irene was relieved Merle wasn't asking about Cyrus, but a little horrified at having her words thrown back at her. "Yes, I did say that. But it was unfair of me. I don't know what any of them are dealing with."
"Hey, it's not like you would say that to anyone's face, right? We just laugh behind their backs." Merle paused and set her spoon down upon seeing Irene's arched eyebrow. "Don't give me that look, Irene. You rolled your eyes at Joseph and all the others." With a slight pout on her lower lip, she scraped the sides of her disposable sundae cup. "It's not like you're a bully or anything."
"Maybe not. But I was the pretentious one," Irene reflected after clearing her mouth. "Anyway, Joseph is really nice. But I never tried to get to know him because I thought anyone who wears black would be gloomy, and I don't need gloom."
"No you don't. You're gloomy enough as it is." Merle looked momentarily uncomfortable. She thrust her spoon into her sugary dessert, bringing out a large brown glob to keep her mouth busy while her mind processed. Once she had swallowed, she lifted her spoon, pointing with it as she spoke. "You know, if everyone didn't know Joseph is gay, I'd be worried on Jordan's behalf. You almost never say anyone is 'really nice'."
"Knows or assumes?" A nut squeaked in protest between Irene's teeth as she grit them, consternation building tension in her temples.
Merle's cheeks flushed. "It's just something everyone knows! I bet he'd tell you if you asked."
"I don't care enough to ask. Besides, that's no one's business. Especially not mine since I have Jordan" Irene irately prodded at her dessert to tease out the rest of her elusive banana, not wanting to look directly at Merle, who was probably rolling her eyes to go with that loud scoff.
For a moment the two girls ate in silence. Then Merle looked across the table at Irene with a renewed focus. “So… I mean, like I said, Joseph isn't really a concern. But..." Merle paused and licked her lips, "...what about Cyrus? I mean, as you say... you've got Jordan..."
Irene narrowed her eyes and stabbed her exposed banana with enough force that whipped topping splattered on her hand. "Don't even go there, Merle. He's dangerous." She licked the creamy white dessert off the back of her hand.
"Ha. You look like your cat right meow," Merle giggled. Irene just looked up at her and rolled her eyes, not in the mood to smile. The red-haired friend glanced out the window for a moment or two. "So if Cyrus is so dangerous, why do you spend so much time around him?"
Irene sighed as she scooped up a chunk of banana. Merle truly had a one-track mind; she pecked and scratched until she was satisfied. “I spend as little time with him as possible."
“And yet he's staying with you? I mean... why?”
Irene sighed and shook her head. That was a valid question, one she kept asking herself.
“Because he won’t go away."
“Uh-huh. Why don’t you make him? Tell your Dad what you told me."
Warm air passed through Irene’s lips as she sighed. "I tried. Dad won't listen."
"Really?" Her friend leaned back into her seat again and picked up her spoon to resume gorging herself on sugar. "He's usually so protective."
"Cyrus claims that he took care of me when I was sick. I was told he saved my life but I think that's stretching the truth." The memory was like a burr on the back of her neck. Her shoulders reflectively rose then fell in a sudden jerk.
“He saved your life?" It was Merle's turn to sound exasperated. "And you still don’t like him? I’d be swept off of my feet if someone saved me!” Her blue-gray eyes glittered.
“May have saved my life. And saving a life doesn't negate all the trouble he caused,” Irene muttered.
Goggle-eyed, Merle stared at Irene in evident disbelief, her voice reaching a higher pitch. “He saved your life Irene!”
“He’s bad news, Merle!”
“Not if he’s saved you! Anyone who takes care of my friends is a good person in my books!” Merle insisted. “Maybe he was bad, but maybe saving you is his way of repenting. Give him a chance…" Merle stared beyond Irene for a moment as she dissolved a chocolate chunk in her mouth thoughtfully. Then her face scrunched up and she looked down at her sundae. "Wait… what am I saying?”
“Yes, Merle, what are you saying? I still have Jordan..." ...I hope... "...so I won't let someone come in and sweep me off my feet. I’m not a part of one of your girlish romances!” Irene said crossly, insecurities leftover from the row she had with Jordan bubbling to the surface.
Merle's face graduated from pink to scarlet. “Girlish romances!? You think I’m silly to want my romance to actually be romantic, rather than just some sort of casual whatever that you and Jordan have? You guys never kiss, never say you love each other, and sometimes I just wonder!” Merle waved a large chunk of brownie in front of Irene's face, and then popped it in her mouth.
Once again, Merle was getting riled up. And while Irene usually patiently endured her outbursts, she was too raw not to be baited. Her upper lip curled into a sneer. “What do you know, Merle!? You've never had a boyfriend!”
Merle's eyes went wide and she inhaled sharply, choking. Merle banged her fist on the table as she fought to clear her airway. Irene immediately handed her a napkin, and Merle grabbed it, coughing into it. As long as she's coughing, she'll be fine. Irene had to remind herself of that to stay calm, but it was bringing to mind the episode she witnessed in the hospital. Irene got up to fetch Merle a cup of water. When she returned, her friend seemed to have mostly dislodged the offending brownie chunk.
"Here."
"Thanks..." Merle croaked, draining the water, with brief breaks to noisily clear her throat. She wiped the tear from her face on the backs of her sleeves, not wanting to use the soiled napkins.
"Oh... should have got you more napkins..." Irene said. She looked at what remained of her dessert, having lost her appetite. She pushed it away.
"S'alright..." Merle muttered hoarsely.
Irene looked out the window. Someone had been standing there, but then quickly moved away. Wasn't that the same guy with the long coat? No, I'm sure I'm imagining it. She cleared her own throat and looked in Merle's direction, but avoided direct eye contact, focusing on her pink lips instead. "I... uh... sorry about the boyfriend remark."
“I, ahem, I might have a temper...” Merle thumped her chest, letting out a large blech. She sighed and then resumed her interrupted sentence, "...but Irene, you can be REALLY mean sometimes."
With a hand on her stomach, Irene looked miserably at the table. "I know!" She quickly forced out a sharp sigh, releasing all the air in her lungs in one quick push. She then added in a gentler voice, "That is, I've come to realise that."
"Sometimes I think... you really don't like me anymore. So I wonder why you still hang out with me. I know I'm difficult, but I do try. And I do enjoy our time together. But lately..."
Irene grit her teeth at the sound of plastic grating on plastic as her friend scraped the last bits of fudge from the sides of her cup. Even nearly choking did not diminish Merle's love of sugar. "No Merle... I... it's not that I don't like you anymore. I'm just... really frustrated. During the summer I had planned out the coming school year, up until graduation, and I was confident and knew what I wanted. But it's been one catastrophe after another, and I'm questioning everything and don't know what I want anymore. Or I'm just too scared to want things, because it feels like some hand is hovering above me, ready to snatch it all away the moment I get my hopes up. I can't..." she trailed off into a long, heavy sigh, leaning forward and putting her face in her hands.
A cool hand nestled on her shoulder. Irene froze, her heart sputtering like a faulty car engine. She jerked up and looked at the arm. Freckles. Not pale. Breath returned to her, and she looked away sheepishly. Of course her friend's hand would be cool after holding on to a flimsy plastic cup of ice cream.
"What? I'm trying to be comforting." Merle tilted her head.
"Your hand is cold."
"Oh." Merle immediately removed her hand, and then folded her arms, tucking her fingers into her armpits. "I get frustrated too, because it feels like you don't think I can handle stuff. I know I get worked up, but I'm usually fine after. I wanna help. Even if all I do is listen."
It was true. Irene didn't have much confidence in her friend's emotional resilience. However, she didn't feel Merle had been giving her much reason to. She thought about their recent disagreements. All of the accusations and conclusions jumped too. The glimmer of excitement Merle got when Irene tried to tell her the surface of the troubles. Yet, when she thought hard on their interactions, she could also see her friend holding back and biting her tongue on multiple occasions. She was trying. But would telling her the truth help her grow, or set her back?
"Thanks." Irene looked around, relieved that the parlour was mostly empty. "Anyway, I'd better get going if I want to catch the bus."
"Okay. I'll walk you to the bus station. I hope you at least enjoyed most of your banana split."
Irene looked at the discarded remains. "It was... nice enough."
"Another one of Irene's glowing reviews," Merle swept her arm out in a grand gesture. Irene gave a half-hearted smile, but it didn't remain on her face long as she headed for the exit.
I promise I'll tell you everything, Merle, when the danger has passed.
CRACK!
An ear-bursting boom terminated all cognition.
What now!? Irene covered her ringing ears. Wobbly legs prevented her from escaping, instead forcing her to half crouch just outside of the Vice Cream doors. Screaming and pandemonium broke out as people in the parking lot rushed for safety. Standing amidst it all was the man in a long coat. In his hands he held a hunting rifle. Irene yelped when she felt her arm being grabbed, only to realise it was Merle tugging her.
“C’mon Irene, we gotta go!”
Irene’s legs freely gave way to Merle’s urging, and one foot clumsily managed to put itself in front of the other. The fleeing pair were halted by another shot that ricocheted off of a metal bike rack in front of them, evidenced by a sudden dent and blue paint chips. Both girls screamed and crouched down, arms over their heads.
“Not so fast!”
Terror resonated through Irene at the sight of that barrel pointing at her and her friend.
“What do you want from us!?” Merle yelled. Irene covered Merle's mouth.
BOOM!
Like a spider web, glass cracked in a radial pattern out from a hole in the nearby windshield. A smaller crash drew Irene's gaze to a cell phone that had been dropped by a man hiding behind the car. Pointing his rifle back at Irene, the shooter nonchalantly walked over and crushed the cell phone with his platform boot. Even with all the noise and confusion, she could pick out the sound of the rifle being reloaded.
“You’re coming with me… AND NOBODY BETTER THINK OF CALLING THE COPS!”
Irene looked up, eyes traveling up his ripped jeans, up past his studded belt, up past his shirt with the faded skull on the chest. He waved his gun in the air in an act of intimidation. She tried to make sense of the situation, her extremities all tingling with fear. But it's broad daylight!
Free of Irene's hands, which were now protecting the back of her own neck, Merle begged, “Please just let us go!”
The man with the rifle laughed. He approached the cowering girls, keeping his weapon trained on them. As soon as he was close enough he put the rifle in his offhand and grabbed Merle by the arm. Ungodly shrieking and thrashing from her friend made Irene want to rush the man, but her body would not move. Merle's fighting came to an abrupt halt after the butt of the gun slammed into the back of her head. The assailant wrapped an arm about Merle, her throat kept in the crook of his elbow. “Come along, or your friend here gets it.”
The abject fear in her friend's face was something Irene never wanted to see. She'd tried so hard to keep her out of trouble. But it was all for naught. Resentfully, Irene followed the man as he led them to a battered, black car. She glowered at the stunned onlookers, angry with them for just staring and doing nothing. The fact she knew she wouldn't do anything if she were a witness failed to douse her fury.
The punkish man opened the back door of a car. "Get in."
Without a word of protest, Irene and Merle complied. The man tossed his rifle in the passenger seat and got in. He has to be connected to the vampires somehow. He has to be. But I thought they were trying to keep a low profile? Why is this happening? Why didn't they wait for me to be alone?
The engine revved as the man made a hasty getaway. Irene braced herself for the fast acceleration and sudden turns, and Merle looked desperately out the window. Irene’s face was pale, but her expression was cool and neutral.
Irene looked over at Merle who was sobbing quietly beside her. She rubbed her hands together and then reached out to put one on Merle's shoulder. Instinctively, her rattled friend leaned into the touch, and soon Merle was lying across the back seat, her head in Irene's lap.