Page 8 of Resurrection
I never gave up.
The squealing sound of protesting hinges when the door opens pulls my focus to the shadow looming at the threshold. I don’t know how long I was stuck in my head, coming to terms with my predicament, but thanks to that, my heart doesn’t flutter like the wings of a dying moth when it sizzles, burning alive on a flame. It beats calmly, waiting for my life to finally end. It’s such a freeing emotion that I almost sob in relief.
I wasn’t living, no matter how much I convinced myself otherwise, just so I could keep going. I was surviving. Scraping the dirt and trash from the world with some messed up sense that it meant something. Watching the outline of whoever it is staring me down from a few feet away, chained like an animal, slaps the truth in my face.
It meant nothing.
It just prolonged my suffering. The miserable existence I’ve had.
“You are awake.”
The same guy that found me speaks, his voice slimy like slugs are gliding over my skin. Still standing at the threshold, thelight from behind him hides his features, making him look more menacing than he has any right to be. He is human for God’s sake. Just like me. Unable to stop myself, laughter bubbles out through my dry lips, the skin cracking, but I welcome the sting.
“A crazy person,” he says, mumbling under his breath. Sounding disgusted by my lack of sanity, he shuffles inside the room. I’m not even sure it is a room. I don’t even care at this point. “At least you won’t understand what’s happening to you.” Chuckling, he squats down on his haunches. “I’m doing you a favor. We will help each other out.”
My insane laughter stops, and I blink at the dark outline crouching in front of me. This asshole thinks just because someone is not all there mentally, apparently, it’s okay to kill them. Or trade them like some livestock. Anger surges through me, the yank of the metal on my wrists fueling it when I try to slap him. He flinches at my sudden jerk but doesn’t move away.
“A fighter…” Snickering like a mad man, he yanks on the nest of hair sitting atop my head. “I’m told the vamps like it if you fight. It makes the blood taste better, or so I’ve been told. The assholes never tried to take any from me.”
The longer I listen to him, I’m not so sure which one of us is insane. Through the years, I had heard humans liked it when vampires drained their blood. I just thought they were lying or maybe trying to make themselves feel better for betraying humanity as a whole.
Maybe this idiot is one of those wanting what everyone has, even if it isn’t a good thing. If everyone is saying it, it must be true. Morons.
I haven’t had anyone to guide me through what was good or bad, but I would like to think I learned on my own. My morals might be screwed, but they were mine, and I was proud of them. No approval was needed to understand that I did the best I could with the shit of a life I was given.
This guy, on the other hand, is the reason why we are at the point we are. Selfish, unhinged, and screwed in the head ten ways from Sunday. At least I never turned my back on my kind. I can die knowing that.
“We have a short trip, you and me.” Lifting up to his full height, the creep rubs his hands together in anticipation. “Soon, we’ll both get what we deserve. You’ll be put out of your misery.” A hand reaches for my shackled wrist. “And I’ll get to be immortal. Rising up in the chain.” I watch him, detached from the situation. That calms the feeling from earlier blanketing my body.
Free.
I will finally be free from everything. Luck, hope, suffering. Most of all, I’ll be free from life. I never realized how much I wanted that. Hanging limply, I allow the idiot to unchain me. Much stronger than I expected him to be, he drags me out of the darkness. The tips of my boots scrape the floor. Through the matted hair hanging over my face, I take in the dingy apartment where I’ve been held prisoner. Stained, brown carpet covers the floor. Yellow curtains that have seen better days are pulled closed over one window. A checkered sofa with holes, springs and stuffing poking out of them in a few places is the only furniture I can see. Empty cans and bottles of alcohol, mostly beer, litter the ground. He kicks them out of the way as we pass towards the door, the cluttering sound reaching my ears like a peal of cruel laughter.
The night air washes over me as soon as we step foot outside. Well, he steps foot out. I’m tiptoeing because his greater height jostles my limp body after him. His apartment smelled just like the dumpsters I raided so I could feed myself. Somehow, that thought makes me feel better. I was living like a scum, and I am proud of that. This asshole will never be proud of the life he has lived. Descending the two flights of stairs takes notime at all while he practically runs down, impatient to end my existence. When we reach his beat-up car, unwashed for as long as I’ve been alive, he wrenches the trunk open, shoving me inside. My body hurts from being bent at awkward angles, but I don’t protest. Before he slams it closed, I smile at him, causing confusion to cloud his face.
“Thank you.” My whispered words widen his eyes. He slams the trunk closed so fast the sound hurts my ears. The engine rattles, coughing and spitting, before it starts. With a deep breath, I relax, smiling in the darkness.
It won’t be long now.
Chapter Eight
SEBASTIAN
Anxiety, frustration, and fear stream through the connection I have with Marcus and Andrei. As soon as my eyes open, I’m fully aware that something is wrong. Taking my time to disentangle myself from between the sheets only makes it harder for the two males who are aware of my waking state. If something has gone wrong, they should be afraid. I have come a long way to reach this goal and will not allow anyone or anything to thwart my plans. Sharp, stabbing pain pierces my chest when the thought of losing the girl floats through my head. Pushing it down, I walk under the stream of hot water in the open shower. Feeling every drop slicing the air and sliding over my skin, warming it up, soothes me. I’ll take my time, letting Marcus and Andrei come to me. Patience has never been their strong suit, even though they’ve been with me for over a century now.
Hunger gnaws in my gut, reminding me it’s been a couple of days since I’ve fed. That will need to be remedied soon before it takes control of my actions and the Americans see their fears of us are very much sound. Watching the suds swirling around the drain at my feet, my lips tilt up at that thought. Maybe it’s not a bad idea to confirm what they’ve been whispering between eachother. I will think on that a bit more. Every action needs to be precise and strategically made to further our cause.
Pushing my hair out of my face, squeezing the water from it, I snatch a towel and tie it around my waist. The same face I have seen for too long to count stares at me from my reflection. Day by day, humanity has been slipping through my fingers until nothing remains of the man I used to be. Boredom is what led me to search for something to give me purpose again. Something other than hunger and thrill to fill my days.
When I had almost given up, I found the old parchment buried in the Colosseum in the middle of Rome. Who would’ve thought that new things could still be found there? Written in a shaky hand, as if the one holding the quill was in a hurry, it spoke of a time when things were not as bleak as they are now. It talked of greatness and power beyond anything any of us have considered possible, including the self-proclaimed gods of the Council. That weathered piece of confession, as I like to call it, brought me where I am today: in the middle of the nest, where my eternal life may end.
Or start anew.
It all depends on one girl. If I get my hands on her. With that reminder, I dry off and start pulling my clothing on. Whatever it is that got two strong and smart males anxious and afraid will no doubt make me unhappy. However, it will need to be dealt with before I satisfy the hunger raging through my veins. My fingers still at the buttons of the shirt when a knock disturbs the silence of the bedroom. Marcus is the first to want to end his torment, it seems.
“Come in.” I finish buttoning up my shirt.
Marcus opens the door and walks inside, closing it gently behind him, not meeting my gaze. It brings me great pleasure knowing that my friend knows better than to provoke my ire more than necessary. Letting him dwell on whatever it is thatails him, I continue my dressing, pulling the jacket over my shoulders. When my second set of cufflinks is placed correctly, the red and gold contrasting on the white fabric, the door opens again, and Andrei walks in. It doesn’t escape my notice that he didn’t knock. I know he understands my displeasure when his body shudders and a pained grunt sounds from his firmly pressed lips.
