Chapter Nine

 

"As the Count leaned over me and his hands touched me... a horrible feeling of nausea came over me, which, do what I would, I could not conceal."

- An excerpt from Bram Stoker's Dracula

 

An entry by Patrick Symmonds

I waited in the park the next day, swinging listlessly on the swing set and fidgeting with my battered cell phone. Sometimes I was sure Hayley only kept me waiting to keep me wondering. Some days I was almost certain she wouldn’t turn up, and that would be it; this sordid little dream would be over.

 

The church across the road held my gaze for awhile as I watched an old lady hobble up the stairs with her walking stick. She was hunched over in a sort of sorrowful bow as she grasped the safety rail and conquered the steps one by one. I wondered what she had to be thankful for, and if anything even made the list. Maybe it was just routine, like going to work or driving out to the supermarket- or renting a DVD, or calling your parents every weekend from the city you ended up in. God was just another facet of experience; better still, he was someone we could blame whenever things went wrong- or forget to thank whenever things went right.

 

I wondered what he thought of it all sometimes, watching us repeat the word ‘freewill’ until it lost all meaning, and watching us forget it whenever someone pulled the cord on perfection. We were all so casual about the idea of higher purposes; God; another facet of experience. I smiled to myself then, suddenly feeling like an existentialist. The old lady made it through the doors and disappeared from view.

 

I believed in a God, I just wondered if he believed in me.

 

“Hey Patty,” Hayley called out as she walked up the path towards the park. “Good morning!”

 

“Hey,” I replied, still having to catch my breath whenever she smiled at me.

 

“Sorry I’m late,” She said and I shrugged. “Big day today,”

 

“Yeah,” I sighed. She sat down on the swing next to mine and watched me as I stared down at my black-skull-print Vans.

 

“Don’t worry, it’s only worth thirty percent of your grade,” She grinned, making me scoff.

 

“Thanks Hayley,” I laughed.

 

“Why are you so nervous?” She asked, “You’ll be great,”

 

I shrugged. I didn’t believe her; I knew Mr. Wilson was going to come up with as many excuses as possible to help me along that road of feeling like s**t. Hayley got up and came over to me, sitting down on my lap with a grin. The feeling of her hand on my knee formed a lump in my throat I couldn’t swallow.

 

“You’ll be fine,” She said, and kissed me. I smiled at her when we broke apart, feeling her hand against my chest. “I’d give you an A,” She purred and slid her hand over my shoulder. I giggled, blushing as I looked down to my fingers that played with the hem of her skirt.

 

***

 

“Symmonds,” Mr. Wilson mused as he walked into the classroom, “I believe you’re up today?” He buttoned his cuffs as he grinned at me and I felt that familiar burning feeling in my stomach again. He adjusted his glasses and sat down behind the desk, raising his eyebrows at me. A few people started sniggering, “Whenever you’re ready, Symmonds,” He said sarcastically.

 

I stood up grudgingly, feeling everyone’s scornful stare reach out and touch me as I shuffled towards the board. I saw the smirks and caught the snarky remarks, feeling my gut tighten up into a painful knot. Mr. Wilson was giving the crowds the show they had been waiting for; a chance to behold their favourite freak; a chance to push me and watch me squirm. Come one, come all. They licked their lips and waited for the final blow.

 

I passed my DVD to Mr. Wilson who smirked and put it into the DVD player. “You’re shaking, Symmonds,” He said and the classroom laughed on cue.

 

Suddenly I caught Hayley’s eye and saw her grin at me from the back of the classroom. She put her chin on her fists and stared at me with a hopeful look that made me smile back. “My presentation’s about the literary hero and self sacrifice,” I said as the film on the screen beside me rolled. “What makes a hero is his or her ability to commit this one utilitarian service- self sacrifice for the greater good...” A picture of Christ on the cross appeared on the screen. The classroom fell to silence. I clenched my fists and felt my heart-beat rising when I looked up to see the faces staring at me with unblinking eyes. A twisted smile I couldn’t hold back curled upon my lips. “Behold...” My voice uttered in a hushed growl, “The lambs for the slaughter,”

 

The screen flashed to a homemade video of a lamb being held down and having its neck slit with a blunt looking machete. On lookers in the video laughed and called out, even the children grinned, but my classmates gasped in horror. Some reeled back in their seats, holding their hands to their lips, and others swore under their breath as they flinched. I grinned. Here’s your f*****g freak show.

 

The screen faded to a picture of Shakespeare, “Hamlet, Macbeth, King Lear, Romeo and Juliet- every one of Shakespeare’s tragedies only achieve cathartic release at the hero’s demise.” I said. “The hero has to be destroyed in order to restore eternal justice. Only then can the sins of a nation be cleansed,” The screen flashed up a picture of Samuel Harlow, a controversial blood spot on the massacre that was our tainted history. He led the rebellion against the illegal vampire slayers in 1892, chastising hundreds in his wake. His group of so-called mercenaries killed one innocent human for every vampire slaughtered. He kept the numbers even, and was publically executed because of it. “Sometimes the hero has to become the villain...” I breathed, “in order to save an ailing community,” More pictures appeared on the screen, switching from fiction’s best gothic heroes to familiar faces from newspapers and TV screens. The screen then flashed up a picture of the Eche Brothers- first their mug shot, then the pictures of them lying on the ground dead by the shoes of some police officers. Next, a picture of Brady being read his last rites with his head held high. “Sometimes it even gets too difficult to tell the difference,”

 

I remember a cool tingling feeling in my fingers, and a burning feeling on the skin of my knuckles. And I remember the way my mother looked at me as I unlocked the door that held her back. “Patrick, oh thank God!” She lunged towards me and held me tightly, her hand on the back of my head. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” She sobbed. But I felt nothing.

 

It was almost as if all my energy had been sapped, and that I had become a numb drone. For a brief moment I wondered how I even got to the bedroom door. The space in my memory between lying on the ground under Charlie’s shoe and unlocking the door didn’t exist. I felt a tear run down my face and shuddered as my mother pulled away to look me in the eye. “Why didn’t you break it down?” I muttered. “You could have broken it down,”

 

She looked at me confused. “What happened, Patrick?”

 

“Why didn’t you do it?” I choked out with a sob as I suddenly felt my eyes well up with tears. “Why?” I uttered again, shaking. I pushed my mother away. I remember the look on her face; the heavy strain of remorse; a sorry buried beneath a horror of the unknown. She glanced towards the living room and stumbled backwards, holding her hands over her mouth.

 

My knees buckled and I fell, sliding my back against the wall as I cried. I saw the blood on my knuckles and the crimson patch on my shirt. Suddenly I felt everything... it weighed me down and knocked the air out of my lungs. I remember the suffocating feeling of the darkest grief creep through my 12 year old body. I remember the unshakable hatred I had for my mother.

 

The void in my memory filled up with a sickening slideshow of blood and breaking flesh, and red blotched white fabric. My body heaved forward and I threw up. In a flash I was human again.

 

Suddenly, the film switched off and the classroom lights flickered on again. Mr. Wilson stood up in his seat quickly, “This is not a social studies class, Patrick,” He said, his face fuming red.

 

“It’s all relevant material,” I replied.

 

“That’s enough,” He put in quickly, “Back to your seat,” He ordered and I complied. I knew this was going to mean I failed the assignment, but I didn’t care... for once, I had said my peace, and no one had a reply. The class room was dead silent, and I could hear their hearts beating in a chorus of shocked confusion. They sat unmoving, unable to carry on functioning after the things I had shown them. I didn’t really do anything special. All I did was hold up the mirror and forced them to look. It really wasn’t my fault that they saw a monster staring back.

 

I think Mr. Wilson knew that, and that’s what shook him the most. He fumbled with the text book in front of him, and scribbled on a notepad vigorously.

 

I turned to Hayley and saw her smile back proudly. “You did good,” She mouthed.

 

“We’ll continue with the rest of the presentations tomorrow,” Mr. Wilson said and stood up. It was the first time the class had been dismissed before the bell rang. I think my classmates would have thanked me if they weren’t so shaken.

 

Hayley and I stormed out the school doors, hugging the building wall as we laughed our way towards the field. My veins throbbed with adrenaline, and as we rounded the building I pushed her against the wall and kissed her roughly on the lips. My body and hers merged as I leant forward heavily, my bag sliding off my shoulders and my arms wrapping around her tightly. I felt her smile into the kiss and I smiled back.

 

My fingers found their way to her scarf and I tugged it off her neck. Snatching my lips away from hers, I placed them against the nape of her neck and kissed the wounds I had created- they had almost fully healed by then, leaving faint pink scars on her tan skin. She gasped, throwing her head back as I licked her neck slowly.

 

I was drunk with a thick passion that snaked its way around me and urged me on. It teased me across the lines I had drawn, and begged me to break all my own rules. After hours spent convincing myself I would never again let myself hear that putrid voice that lived inside me, I opened the door and let him in. I spread my arms and embraced the beast.

 

I felt the prick of my eyeteeth against my tingling lips and when I opened my eyes I saw my Hayley bathed in a golden hue that drew me in. As I fell past the brink I heard the voice inside me snarl: “Kiss her, Kiss her...”

 

Axon held me by a fist full of my red hair and forced me forward. I stared down at Mercella, her purple Mohawk matching the purple trim in her corset dress. She had a gag over her lips and her eyes closed. Taylor and Leith held her up and smirked at me.

 

“Go on, Patrick,” Axon grinned. “Have a little taste,” He growled. His fingers dug into the back of my skull and I cringed with pain, feeling tears well up in my eyes. I felt his breath against my neck then, making me shudder. “You’re still a vampire under all this,” With his other hand he glided a hand from my belt to my chest, lifting my shirt a little. I squirmed, but his hold on my hair tightened and I whimpered. The others around us laughed. “Go on, Patrick,” He said. “Kiss her, taste her, make us proud...”

 

“Kiss her!” Taylor chimed in, and quickly the others joined in a chorus that echoed inside my head. “Kiss her... kiss her...”

 

“Patrick?” I heard Hayley’s voice. Axon’s grasp loosened.

 

I reeled backwards, stumbling away from Hayley with a gasp. She looked at me worriedly, “Patrick?” She breathed, holding her neck, “What’s wrong?”

 

My chest heaved up and down heavily, and I stared at her wide-eyed. “I-I...” I turned suddenly and saw Axon smiling at me from across the courtyard. He nodded at me and took a drag of his cigarette.

 

The bell rang and a sea of students gushed out of the doors. In a moment he disappeared in the mass of book bags and labelled clothes and laughter that followed whispers of idle gossip. “Patty?” Hayley walked over to me and took my hand. I looked down at her and wished for words to say.

 

“I’m sorry,” I said and our hands disconnected. I lost her in the sea of students.

 

 

Author's Note

it's going to be at least a couple of weeks before I continue with this. assignments and life... but I will return! Reviews please! They motivate me.