Post by shiina on Aug 2, 2010 16:25:01 GMT -5
I shook Morgan, “She’ll be fine, but only if you stay calm.” I said. I shoved past her to grab the plastic bottle from the kitchen, then re-entered, crouching beside Kayla’s limp body, which had fallen off the couch onto the floor when she had passed out.
With hands that were somehow steady, I took the cap off the bottle and, supporting her head with one hand, lifted the bottle to Kayla’s lips. The red ran down either side of her cheeks, a stream of malevolent red lava. A gurgle came from her throat, and I quickly took the bottle from her lips. I cursed under my breath at my stupidity as I realized the liquid had gone to her lungs.
Loud, violent sobs were coming from Morgan at that point. I turned to her, for just an instant, “I won’t let her die!” I lashed, a whimsical oath that I hoped I could keep. I whipped back around to Kayla. I quickly flipped her onto her stomach and wrapped my arms around her waist, giving her my best attempt at the Heimlich maneuver. She sputtered and gurgled, but it just wasn’t working. “Wake up!” I screamed, crying. I flipped her over onto her back again. “Wake up.” I buried my face against her shoulder, “Please wake up.” I whispered.
Morgan screamed again, violent sobs shaking her. I looked at Kayla to see that her eyes had rolled back in her head. It was like a scene from a horror movie, the red of the blood contrasting against her pale skin, sticking in her matted hair. Her lips were stained red and slightly parted, quiet gurgles still coming from her throat. Her heartbeat had slowed to a faint thump, like quiet, slow footsteps sneaking across a room, growing less and less audible as the distance silences them.
“I can’t give up,” I said, more to myself than to Morgan. There was still a chance, and I had one last option.
I leaned in and gave Kayla mouth-to-mouth. I was only semi-sure that I knew what I was doing. It was something I had seen on an old re-run of a forgotten TV show; pump her chest three times, then lean in and breathe for her. It was all I had to go on, and I prayed it would work. My prayers were answered.
It took quite a few breaths, but suddenly, Kayla’s eyes shot open and she started to cough straight into my mouth, the blood that had gone into her lungs and almost drowned her shooting out from her mouth and all over my clothes, and dripping even more into her hair and on her clothes. Morgan, sobbing and frantic, threw herself straight at Kayla, covering herself in the tainted blood as well.
I, on the other hand, leaned back against the coffee table, letting my head fall back. It was all too much for me. Morgan and Kayla both almost dying in a 24-hour time span was far too much stress. My tears came back, overwhelming my eyes and clouding my vision. They spilled over, running down my cheeks, but I stayed silent. The quiet tears exploded in my mouth with a salty warmth on my tongue. Could this all be a dream? An ongoing nightmare that I would soon wake up from and find myself back in Texas, warm in my bed. I would tell my mom about my dream and she would comfort me and kiss my forehead. Ben would take me for ice cream at the 24-hour parlor in town and tell me it was all going to be okay. Then he would promise me none of that would ever happen.
That promise is broken.
Morgan and Kayla had separated from their hug and were sitting silently. It was unbearably quiet and sullen, all of us avoiding eye contact with one another. The silence swallowed me, and I practically forgot where I was. Almost forgot Kayla and Morgan were there. My mind had wandered back to my old home in Texas. My friends, my family; my life. I wanted my life back.
“Go take a shower now, Kayla.” I said distantly. She looked at me just like she had before, with that dazed, just-woke-up look. She stood without a word and started to walk out, when I stopped her, “First,” I said, grabbing the half full bottle of cherry-red liquid, “Drink this.”
“No,” She whispered, refusing to look me in the eye, “I’m fine.”
“Reassure me,” I said, knowing that making her feel like I was the weak one and by doing me the favor she would be the strong one was the only way to get her to drink it.
She looked at me warily, and finally let out a defeated sigh as she took the bottle from my hand. She hesitated at first, but as soon as the bottle was to her lips, she lost control and chugged it faster than I had ever seen anyone drink. “Thanks,” I whispered.
Without a word, she handed the empty bottle back and walked out. I heard her footsteps thump down the stairs to the basement bathroom. The long, uncomfortable silence that followed made me want to pull my hair out.
“I’m sorry,” I finally whispered, my voice shaky and broken.
Morgan looked at me, her eyes red from crying. Against all odds, she shocked me with a warm, kind smile. “Don’t be,” She said, “Things happen. Nobody can be blamed for everything that’s happened.” She stood up, “I’ll be back, I want to change into my own clothes,” She looked down at the jeans and t-shirt of mine she was wearing, “I wouldn’t want to steal your stuff, and plus,” She added in a whisper, “Your jeans are a bit too small for me!”
I smiled, if you could call that thin, exasperated curve a smile. I didn’t say anything, and she walked out. My lips straightened back out into a drained, expressionless line.
My head pounded with each beat of my vampire heart. I needed to change also. To get out of the already dry and crusty blood all over my clothes. I needed a drink before I vomited from the vile taste of the coughed up blood in my mouth.
Pulling myself up took effort, but once I had reluctantly gotten to my feet, I had no problem walking into the kitchen for a glass of water, then changing clothes. Once I was dressed, I walked back into the living room.
We had a small, washable, rug between our coffee table and our couch. The beige carpet was now red.
I picked it up gingerly and thanked God that the blood had only gotten on the rug and not on my moms couch or cream carpet. My mom would kill me if I got a huge red stain on her carpet. With a gag, I threw the carpet into the washing machine, threw in some bleach, figuring white would be better than reddish-brown, and I dumped the cranberry juice we had in the refrigerator down the drain, preparing my story for Mom. I’m sorry Morgan’s so uncoordinated, Mom.
I realized, as I threw away the empty juice bottle, that Morgan was taking a long time. I walked into the hall to see that the bathroom door, where Morgan had gone to change, was open. I walked past the bathroom door and into the computer room, where Morgan was sitting in my computer chair on the internet.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
She glanced at me, “Popping bloons with my dart monkeys.” She answered, looking back at the screen.
Does it get much weirder?
“Oh my gosh, I can afford the Super Monkey!” she screamed.
Yes, it does. It gets much, much weirder.
“Come on,” I said, grabbing her by her hair and pulling her away from the computer.
She stretched her arms as far as she could, reaching for the keyboard with all her might, “No!” She screamed, “I must pop the bloons! They’re getting away!” I pulled her hair harder, “Ow, ow, ow,” She complained. As we exited into the hall, she grabbed hold of the door frame, “Protect the tower, Super Monkey! Pop those bloons!”
She gave up once we were in the hall. Kayla was walking up the stairs as we walked into the kitchen. The color had returned to her cheeks.
“Feeling better?” I asked.
She looked away, and aside from the small flash of momentary sadness in her eyes, there was no expression on her face.
I was too quick to invite them over. I didn’t know them, and at that moment, I felt like they were complete strangers. Two people I had never met before in my life, standing with me in this room I had never been in before. It wasn’t my kitchen, that’s for sure. My kitchen was all the way back in Texas.
“No more,” Kayla said, as if she had been speaking all along. Morgan and I looked at her, “No more stress,” She continued, “No more drama. We’re leaving in a few hours, and all morning it’s been tears, blood, and death. No more.”
I doubted we could just turn things around like that, and I was about to voice that opinion when Morgan said, with a large grin on her face, “Teach me to be a vampire!” Kayla and I just stared at her, bewildered. She just shrugged off our shocked looks, and continued plainly, “You thought I was joking about being happy about this? This is what I’ve always wanted. Sure it’s stressing, but everything gets better before it gets worse, right? So, teach me. I’m your responsibility, now.”
She was right.
So I gave in, and Kayla and I taught her about being a vampire, starting with the Council of Lords.
“The vampire ‘higher authorities,’ so-to-speak, is called the Council of Lords,” Kayla began. We had migrated to the basement, and were sitting in a triangle on the floor, “They make the laws and everything for us vampires. To be a part of the council, you have to have at least one strong power. There’s always ten vampires on the Council. And there’s always, no matter what, one senpyre on the Council. Senpyres know things. They just know. I’m sure they know all about you by now.”
Morgan was wide-eyed and no doubt in awe, “I feel so stalked!” She squealed happily. I gave her an odd look. “In a good way.” She added.
“Anyway,” I said, before she could begin a string of babble, “Some of the laws are super-strict, like the Secrecy Policy laws. Pretty self explanatory, don’t let any humans find out about vampires. And others aren’t really enforced unless it’s a special case. Like being racist against humans. No big deal unless you try to wipe them all out.” I blushed. I would know all about hating humans.
Morgan shocked me with the question, “So you were racist against humans?”
“Huh?” I gasped, “Oh, well, yeah. I was. How did you know?” I asked, feeling a bit rude.
“I’m not stupid,” She said, and knowing I would comment on my opinion of whether that statement was true or false, she continued hastily, “I can see through people real easy. I’m a good judge of character, you know. It was obvious you hated me at first. It was obvious you hated everybody.” She glanced at Kayla, and back at me, “Some say that people change, but the truth is, you will always be who you are inside. It’s whether or not you choose to be who you are that sometimes changes. I just brought you out of yourself.”
As much as I wanted to convince myself her words made no sense, I knew that they really made more sense than any sentence I had ever heard her say. “Well,” I said, smiling warily, “Thank you.”
I heard the door open and close upstairs, “Lily?” Bens voice called from upstairs.
“In the basement!” I shouted, He appeared at the top of the stairs. “Hi,” I said, “How was biking?”
His face broke out in one of his bright-toothed, stubble-dimpled grins as he held up a first place trophy, “It was okay, I guess.” He said. I think he was trying to sound nonchalant, but his expression and voice betrayed him.
I laughed, “Congrats,” I hesitated after almost calling him ‘Ben,’ but I caught myself in time, “Good job, Dad.”
His grin widened more, though I hadn’t thought it possible. “I’m going to put it in my trophy case,” He said, running back upstairs.
“You don’t have a trophy case,” I called.
His reply came down, “I’ll build one!”
Morgan, Kayla, and I all busted out laughing.
With hands that were somehow steady, I took the cap off the bottle and, supporting her head with one hand, lifted the bottle to Kayla’s lips. The red ran down either side of her cheeks, a stream of malevolent red lava. A gurgle came from her throat, and I quickly took the bottle from her lips. I cursed under my breath at my stupidity as I realized the liquid had gone to her lungs.
Loud, violent sobs were coming from Morgan at that point. I turned to her, for just an instant, “I won’t let her die!” I lashed, a whimsical oath that I hoped I could keep. I whipped back around to Kayla. I quickly flipped her onto her stomach and wrapped my arms around her waist, giving her my best attempt at the Heimlich maneuver. She sputtered and gurgled, but it just wasn’t working. “Wake up!” I screamed, crying. I flipped her over onto her back again. “Wake up.” I buried my face against her shoulder, “Please wake up.” I whispered.
Morgan screamed again, violent sobs shaking her. I looked at Kayla to see that her eyes had rolled back in her head. It was like a scene from a horror movie, the red of the blood contrasting against her pale skin, sticking in her matted hair. Her lips were stained red and slightly parted, quiet gurgles still coming from her throat. Her heartbeat had slowed to a faint thump, like quiet, slow footsteps sneaking across a room, growing less and less audible as the distance silences them.
“I can’t give up,” I said, more to myself than to Morgan. There was still a chance, and I had one last option.
I leaned in and gave Kayla mouth-to-mouth. I was only semi-sure that I knew what I was doing. It was something I had seen on an old re-run of a forgotten TV show; pump her chest three times, then lean in and breathe for her. It was all I had to go on, and I prayed it would work. My prayers were answered.
It took quite a few breaths, but suddenly, Kayla’s eyes shot open and she started to cough straight into my mouth, the blood that had gone into her lungs and almost drowned her shooting out from her mouth and all over my clothes, and dripping even more into her hair and on her clothes. Morgan, sobbing and frantic, threw herself straight at Kayla, covering herself in the tainted blood as well.
I, on the other hand, leaned back against the coffee table, letting my head fall back. It was all too much for me. Morgan and Kayla both almost dying in a 24-hour time span was far too much stress. My tears came back, overwhelming my eyes and clouding my vision. They spilled over, running down my cheeks, but I stayed silent. The quiet tears exploded in my mouth with a salty warmth on my tongue. Could this all be a dream? An ongoing nightmare that I would soon wake up from and find myself back in Texas, warm in my bed. I would tell my mom about my dream and she would comfort me and kiss my forehead. Ben would take me for ice cream at the 24-hour parlor in town and tell me it was all going to be okay. Then he would promise me none of that would ever happen.
That promise is broken.
Morgan and Kayla had separated from their hug and were sitting silently. It was unbearably quiet and sullen, all of us avoiding eye contact with one another. The silence swallowed me, and I practically forgot where I was. Almost forgot Kayla and Morgan were there. My mind had wandered back to my old home in Texas. My friends, my family; my life. I wanted my life back.
“Go take a shower now, Kayla.” I said distantly. She looked at me just like she had before, with that dazed, just-woke-up look. She stood without a word and started to walk out, when I stopped her, “First,” I said, grabbing the half full bottle of cherry-red liquid, “Drink this.”
“No,” She whispered, refusing to look me in the eye, “I’m fine.”
“Reassure me,” I said, knowing that making her feel like I was the weak one and by doing me the favor she would be the strong one was the only way to get her to drink it.
She looked at me warily, and finally let out a defeated sigh as she took the bottle from my hand. She hesitated at first, but as soon as the bottle was to her lips, she lost control and chugged it faster than I had ever seen anyone drink. “Thanks,” I whispered.
Without a word, she handed the empty bottle back and walked out. I heard her footsteps thump down the stairs to the basement bathroom. The long, uncomfortable silence that followed made me want to pull my hair out.
“I’m sorry,” I finally whispered, my voice shaky and broken.
Morgan looked at me, her eyes red from crying. Against all odds, she shocked me with a warm, kind smile. “Don’t be,” She said, “Things happen. Nobody can be blamed for everything that’s happened.” She stood up, “I’ll be back, I want to change into my own clothes,” She looked down at the jeans and t-shirt of mine she was wearing, “I wouldn’t want to steal your stuff, and plus,” She added in a whisper, “Your jeans are a bit too small for me!”
I smiled, if you could call that thin, exasperated curve a smile. I didn’t say anything, and she walked out. My lips straightened back out into a drained, expressionless line.
My head pounded with each beat of my vampire heart. I needed to change also. To get out of the already dry and crusty blood all over my clothes. I needed a drink before I vomited from the vile taste of the coughed up blood in my mouth.
Pulling myself up took effort, but once I had reluctantly gotten to my feet, I had no problem walking into the kitchen for a glass of water, then changing clothes. Once I was dressed, I walked back into the living room.
We had a small, washable, rug between our coffee table and our couch. The beige carpet was now red.
I picked it up gingerly and thanked God that the blood had only gotten on the rug and not on my moms couch or cream carpet. My mom would kill me if I got a huge red stain on her carpet. With a gag, I threw the carpet into the washing machine, threw in some bleach, figuring white would be better than reddish-brown, and I dumped the cranberry juice we had in the refrigerator down the drain, preparing my story for Mom. I’m sorry Morgan’s so uncoordinated, Mom.
I realized, as I threw away the empty juice bottle, that Morgan was taking a long time. I walked into the hall to see that the bathroom door, where Morgan had gone to change, was open. I walked past the bathroom door and into the computer room, where Morgan was sitting in my computer chair on the internet.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
She glanced at me, “Popping bloons with my dart monkeys.” She answered, looking back at the screen.
Does it get much weirder?
“Oh my gosh, I can afford the Super Monkey!” she screamed.
Yes, it does. It gets much, much weirder.
“Come on,” I said, grabbing her by her hair and pulling her away from the computer.
She stretched her arms as far as she could, reaching for the keyboard with all her might, “No!” She screamed, “I must pop the bloons! They’re getting away!” I pulled her hair harder, “Ow, ow, ow,” She complained. As we exited into the hall, she grabbed hold of the door frame, “Protect the tower, Super Monkey! Pop those bloons!”
She gave up once we were in the hall. Kayla was walking up the stairs as we walked into the kitchen. The color had returned to her cheeks.
“Feeling better?” I asked.
She looked away, and aside from the small flash of momentary sadness in her eyes, there was no expression on her face.
I was too quick to invite them over. I didn’t know them, and at that moment, I felt like they were complete strangers. Two people I had never met before in my life, standing with me in this room I had never been in before. It wasn’t my kitchen, that’s for sure. My kitchen was all the way back in Texas.
“No more,” Kayla said, as if she had been speaking all along. Morgan and I looked at her, “No more stress,” She continued, “No more drama. We’re leaving in a few hours, and all morning it’s been tears, blood, and death. No more.”
I doubted we could just turn things around like that, and I was about to voice that opinion when Morgan said, with a large grin on her face, “Teach me to be a vampire!” Kayla and I just stared at her, bewildered. She just shrugged off our shocked looks, and continued plainly, “You thought I was joking about being happy about this? This is what I’ve always wanted. Sure it’s stressing, but everything gets better before it gets worse, right? So, teach me. I’m your responsibility, now.”
She was right.
So I gave in, and Kayla and I taught her about being a vampire, starting with the Council of Lords.
“The vampire ‘higher authorities,’ so-to-speak, is called the Council of Lords,” Kayla began. We had migrated to the basement, and were sitting in a triangle on the floor, “They make the laws and everything for us vampires. To be a part of the council, you have to have at least one strong power. There’s always ten vampires on the Council. And there’s always, no matter what, one senpyre on the Council. Senpyres know things. They just know. I’m sure they know all about you by now.”
Morgan was wide-eyed and no doubt in awe, “I feel so stalked!” She squealed happily. I gave her an odd look. “In a good way.” She added.
“Anyway,” I said, before she could begin a string of babble, “Some of the laws are super-strict, like the Secrecy Policy laws. Pretty self explanatory, don’t let any humans find out about vampires. And others aren’t really enforced unless it’s a special case. Like being racist against humans. No big deal unless you try to wipe them all out.” I blushed. I would know all about hating humans.
Morgan shocked me with the question, “So you were racist against humans?”
“Huh?” I gasped, “Oh, well, yeah. I was. How did you know?” I asked, feeling a bit rude.
“I’m not stupid,” She said, and knowing I would comment on my opinion of whether that statement was true or false, she continued hastily, “I can see through people real easy. I’m a good judge of character, you know. It was obvious you hated me at first. It was obvious you hated everybody.” She glanced at Kayla, and back at me, “Some say that people change, but the truth is, you will always be who you are inside. It’s whether or not you choose to be who you are that sometimes changes. I just brought you out of yourself.”
As much as I wanted to convince myself her words made no sense, I knew that they really made more sense than any sentence I had ever heard her say. “Well,” I said, smiling warily, “Thank you.”
I heard the door open and close upstairs, “Lily?” Bens voice called from upstairs.
“In the basement!” I shouted, He appeared at the top of the stairs. “Hi,” I said, “How was biking?”
His face broke out in one of his bright-toothed, stubble-dimpled grins as he held up a first place trophy, “It was okay, I guess.” He said. I think he was trying to sound nonchalant, but his expression and voice betrayed him.
I laughed, “Congrats,” I hesitated after almost calling him ‘Ben,’ but I caught myself in time, “Good job, Dad.”
His grin widened more, though I hadn’t thought it possible. “I’m going to put it in my trophy case,” He said, running back upstairs.
“You don’t have a trophy case,” I called.
His reply came down, “I’ll build one!”
Morgan, Kayla, and I all busted out laughing.