Chapter ThreeA Chapter by The Dark Passenger another entry by Hayley Edison
"There are such beings as vampires, some of us have evidence that they exist. Even had we not the proof of our own unhappy experience, the teachings and the records of the past give proof enough for sane peoples." - Excerpt from Bram Stoker's Dracula A side-note entry by Hayley Edison
After thousands of years of living together- and at least 800 of them peacefully- you’d expect there to be less intolerance. But there’s a constant tension between us... we try so hard to pretend it’s not there... and that usually just makes it worse.
High School is the perfect breeding-ground for intolerance. If anything, High School teaches you to rate, to hate and to segregate. Getting an education is an afterthought for most kids. There are the popular ones and the social ghosts; the prom queens and the loners; the indie kids and the posers. They are a completely different story of course. How do you fit in when you’re that different? Well, it’s possible- to some degree. Some try to hide what they are- even if most facades crumble thanks to rumours and gossip. Some are weavers: they manage to hold their place in whatever clique they find. Some keep to themselves... dress in black... and call themselves backbiters.
Backbiters have a funny way of reminding us of the thousands of years our separate worlds lived at war... and they seem to like it. Truth is, how do you live alongside a race of people who had, at one stage, hunted your kind like pathetic field mice? Who had once fed themselves on your blood. Who had once gorged themselves on your death- in its millions. And equally, how could you live alongside a race of people who had once destroyed colonies, lynched thousands of your young and hung them up like trophies as warnings?
You don’t. You just learn to get damned good at pretending.
Hundreds of years passed and they put up their shops next to ours, moved into our neighbourhoods, worked next to us, paid their taxes, and attended all our parties, and exchanged with us just as many fake niceties. It usually goes well until someone steps out of line.
Until someone springs the trap and lets all those pent up ‘I-told-you-so’s out of the cage.
Mary Rayne
Those were the names of the Westfield Incident Kids. They were found in a city street alleyway- necks slit open and covered in bite marks. 1989.
Katherine James
1989 – 1990. The names of all who died following the Westfield Incident. None of them had even met any of the kids from the Westfield Incident.
Aiden Eche
1990. 21 and 18. Sentenced to life for the murders of the Westfield Incident Kids.
Aiden Eche
1990. 21 and 18. Killed in transit to maximum security following an attempted escape.
I’m not an activist... definitely not for the Eche Brothers. I’m just stating some facts. The fact that Mrs. Roberts called me an anarchist and accused me of mass paranoia in front of the entire Social Studies class for my report was just a bonus.
Chapter Two, an entry by Hayley Edison
“Do you want something to eat?” He called out from the kitchen, and I shuffled around on the couch, my eyes barely able to focus on the black-and-white horror playing on the television in front of me. I rubbed them, smearing my mascara a little.
“No,” I said, “I’m okay,” I yawned.
“To drink?”
“Um,” I thought, “Soda, maybe,”
“Sweet, we’ve got some,” I heard the fridge door close and he entered the living room holding a can of Coke for each of us. I took mine and he plopped himself down on the seat next to me, popping the can tab that hissed. He placed his lips on the rim of the can immediately, holding it out awkwardly and trying very unsuccessfully to stop the liquid from spilling over. Bubbles formed at the small opening and he flinched, moving away with the cutest sneeze I have ever heard. I couldn’t stop laughing. “Sure,” he giggled, wiping his chin, “Laugh, at poor Patrick’s misfortunes,” he pouted at me.
“Aww,” I cooed and leaned forward to place a soft kiss on his cheek. He smiled, and I lingered just an inch or so from his face, “Poor Patty-cakes,” I giggled and leant back in the couch again, watching as his cheeks flushed a soft shade of pink.
He grinned to himself and sat the can of drink down before picking up his half-eaten sandwich from the coffee table. He bit down and chewed, eyes fixed on the T.V. screen. I could hear the crunching of lettuce. He looked disenchanted, like it was some sort of duty he had to complete.
I wondered how long it had been since he had anything... real.
He giggled at the pitiable acts of the on-screen hero before us, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “S**t,” He said, stopping suddenly, “That guy’s f*****g scary!” He giggled again, “Are you seeing this?” He turned to me, and I smiled. I hadn’t been watching the TV screen at all. “He’s just standing there, watching him, that’s just creepy,” He muttered, taking another bite of his sandwich. “Look at him!”
I glanced at the screen momentarily and laughed, mostly at Patrick’s reaction to the tall Count dressed in a long cape and staring down at his victim with what looked like really badly deformed eyeballs. The black and white hero tossed and turned in bed dramatically. The Count disappeared and re-appeared closer still.
My glance returned to Patrick who sat down half of his sandwich and gulped down the rest of his coke.
I bit my lip and let out a soft sigh as I moved a little closer. My hand crept up onto his thigh.
As I had imagined, Patrick turned around suddenly, looking worried as usual. I couldn’t help but giggle as I leant forward to take of his hat slowly to place it on the table. He was mesmerized; his bright blue eyes never left mine for a moment.
I placed my hand against his cheek and slid it into his long hair, grabbing the back of his head and pulling him towards me. Our lips collided.
I felt his hands very shyly crawl up my thighs to rest on my waist; they barely touched me, as if he was so afraid to break me. I felt his heart-beat quicken, and heard it thumping loudly. I smiled into the kiss and felt him smile back.
When we broke apart I was lying back on the sofa, and he was over me, smiling that shy little smile. He hesitantly placed his hand against my cheek and kissed me again, moving his lips against mine slowly, tenderly, his tongue only barely brushing against mine. He pulled away and I saw his pale skin was now a bright pink.
“Patrick...” I began in a whisper, “If I let you... would you bite me?”
“What?” He looked at me confused.
“I’ll let you,” I said, “I don’t mind,”
“Uh...”
“I want you to,” I breathed, and smiled up at him.
“Hayley-”
I leant up and kissed him before he could say anymore. My fingers raked through his hair and I pushed my lips so firmly against his they could have blistered from the friction. I wanted him to know how much I wanted this... how passionate I was about the whole idea. I hitched my knee up slowly and arched my back as I slid it between his legs.
He broke away from me with a gasp suddenly, letting out a half-moan as he tried very comically to sit up, his hand against the couch and his face now bright red. “Um-ah,” He stammered. It was adorable.
“Patty,” I purred, sitting up underneath him as I placed my hands on the collar of his t-shirt.
“No,” He mumbled and pushed me away lightly, “You don’t know...” he got up and stumbled off the couch to sit on the coffee table. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” He said.
I placed my hands on his thighs and knelt down in front of him, “Yeah, I do,” I smiled, “Patrick,” I sighed, “I want you to...”
“I’m not a... a- backbiter,” He huffed, his eyes stuck on the carpet underneath us. It hurt to be sitting right in front of him, and to have his gaze turned away.
“I know...” I ran my hands higher, “You’re Patrick. The sweetest, cutest guy I’ve ever met. Coke makes you sneeze... you have three Shakespeare plays memorized...” I moved up and straddled him slowly, making him gasp softly as he leant back a little. “And you flinch every time I touch you,” I giggled and traced a finger down his chest.
He watched me and smiled, looking a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry...” he mumbled, “I’ve just... never,” He sighed, and looked up at me with another weak smile.
“Neither have I,” I grinned, wrapping my hands around his shoulders. He gulped and placed his hands on my hips. I imagined he must have been wondering if I was telling the truth. “I wanna know what it’s like,” I said, inching closer to him. “I wanna feel what you feel... I wanna feel... closer to you than I’ve ever been with anyone else,” I smiled softly, as did he.
We kissed again, and I hungrily attempted to get him to respond a little less shyly... with little results of course, he just seemed so out of his depth. I relaxed onto him, making him moan into the kiss. We broke apart then and he let out a shaky sigh, placing a hand against my neck. I paused, feeling his cold, shivering fingers on the sensitive skin of my neck. His eyes shifted from mine to what he was doing as he traced little circles on my flesh.
I held my breath as he licked his lips, parting them slowly. His thumb stroked the nape of my neck gently, taunting me, making my expression drop and my eyes slowly slide shut. I felt his hot breath on my skin, and it made me shudder. Dark, dirty, dangerous things filled my mind as he closed the gap between us. Like a cloak of shadows, a million thoughts surrounded me and fell on us like tiny prickling shards of glass as he dragged his tongue along the side of my neck.
“What’re you reading?” I looked up from my book and saw a very gaunt looking Goth girl staring back. Her purple lipstick was smeared over her snake bites, but she didn’t seem to care.
“Nothing,” I said and shut my book, pulling it onto my lap from the table.
“Wait, no, let me guess, its Vampire folklore?” She said, “A History of Vampires and Humans?” She guessed again, pilling up the rest of the books on the table. I saw her librarian’s name tag and side glanced at the exit. “You’re always in here, reading up on the same s**t,” She smirked.
“I’m not some sort of backbiter b***h,” I sneered, standing up and throwing my book down on the table angrily.
“What’s wrong with being a backbiter b***h?” She said. I looked at her, my expression dropping. “Social traditions of the Vampire,” She read out the tile of the book I was reading. “You know there’s only so much you can learn from a book,” She gave me a dark little smile. “If you really wanna get up close and personal you should hit fang clubs,” She said. “Get really up close and personal,”
An image of her pouring through a crowd of hungry vampire men at a crowded fang club came into mind. They leered, catching her scent. But she was untouchable. She belonged to someone else.
She smirked and turned away with her pile of books, and I caught a glimpse of the fang marks on her throat, crowded by a black and purple bruise and an amateur looking spider tattoo. I held my neck in a knee-jerk response. “What does it feel like?” I heard myself calling out after her.
She paused, and turned around again... then smiled her crooked smile and shook her head at me.
Patrick gulped again, and leant against me with a sigh that rippled warm air across my neck. “Hayley,” He muttered, his voice shaking.
“Patrick,” I whispered back, feeling his fingers push through my hair, holding the back of my head. “It’ll be okay,” I said, “It’ll be okay,”
Suddenly, the sound of the front door opening exploded into earshot and Patrick reeled back. “Patty, you still up?” We heard a voice calling from the door.
By the time his mother made it into the lounge we were sitting down on the couch and watching the credits of the movie we had missed roll. Looking as innocent as possible. “Oh hello, Hayley,” She smiled back at me and I smiled back.
“Hey Mrs. Symmonds,” I greeted.
“I thought you were staying at Aunt Pauline’s” Patrick said, clearing his throat and holding a pillow over himself. It was so hard not to laugh.
“Yeah me too, until she started to make me feel like clawing my eyes out,” Mrs. Symmonds laughed as she walked back into the kitchen. Patrick and I exchanged glances and breathed. We heard the fridge door open. “You kids hungry?”
© 2009 The Dark PassengerAuthor's Note
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Added on April 15, 2009 Author
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