by Quil Carter
‘Of course they do,’ the voice said. ‘They found you easy enough, didn’t they?’
“Shit!” Sasha cried, then he clenched his teeth and swore when another piercing throb tortured him further.
Overwhelmed and scared, Sasha sat down on his couch, but immediately he had second thoughts and grabbed a kitchen knife. With the knife clenched in a trembling hand, Sasha huddled against the wall with his eyes fixed on the door.
This was the last thing he fucking needed. A migraine that was determined to kill him and the two psychos who were after his blood and cum, knocking on his damn door. What sort of game were they playing?
Sasha looked down at the metal vial he was holding, then to the note which was resting by his feet. He sniffed and rubbed his nose, there was a large part of him that didn’t even want to know what the note said, or what was inside of the vial, but what he had learned about those two, their potential need for his blood and semen, sparked curiosity in him. They were somehow connected to those intense migraines.
Slowly, with his heart pounding as much as his head, he opened the note.
The writing was in fountain ink, and from the hands of someone obviously skilled in writing with it…
Nightcrawler,
How about another walk in the moonlight? We’ll bring the drinks this time.
K
Sasha stared at the letter. He read it three times before his eyes deflected to the silver vial.
They hadn’t mentioned it… but…
Sasha flicked off the stopper, one that had a metal top but a cork bottom, and smelled it.
His eyes widened and he swore under his breath. He smelled it again to confirm it, before putting his finger on the opening and tipping it upside down. Then he removed his finger and saw that, indeed, his finger was fucking covered in what looked like semen.
Fucking cum.
Sasha wiped his finger on his shirt and stared at it.
Did… did they… was this…
Was…
Would this stuff…
…cure his headache?
Is that how it worked? That it wasn’t me having this magic blood and semen, it was all three of us? Was that how the migraines were cured?
Sasha stared at the bottle, the bile rising in his stomach. The note didn’t say… but… after how they had jumped him at the party, seemingly knowing where Sasha was, was it that big of a stretch that they’d not only know where he lived… but know he was in pain?
Who the fuck were these people?
Slowly he tilted the bottle back and forth, a curl to his lips and his nose wrinkling from scrunching it. There was no need to say it out loud, or even in his head, he knew that desperation would eventually lead him to… drink it.
“Seriously?” Sasha whispered. He closed his eyes for a moment and took in a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, he took one last look at the bottle, before bringing it to his mouth and tilting it.
The cold gooey liquid touched his lips, then his tongue. Sasha held back the gag in his throat, and swallowed it as quickly as he could.
As soon as it was down, he dry heaved and threw the bottle to the ground. This is how fucking desperate he was? Desperate to drink random men’s cum? The two who fucking jumped him and… and…
Sasha’s eyes travelled to the note.
And wanted to meet him again?
What the fuck!?
If he wasn’t in so much pain Sasha would’ve grabbed his hair and screamed as he yanked it out in chunks, but his head was killing him and he’d just drank some guy’s semen––he was going to lay in bed.
Sasha closed the door and collapsed onto his double bed. He shut his eyes and tried to rinse his mouth out with his own spit, anything to get rid of the fucking taste. What he’d just done was so revolting he knew it was going to keep him up at night for a long time.
That and this continuing mystery… the mystery that seemed to get more fucked up by the day.
And it was only going to get weirder.
Sasha’s eyes opened and he stared up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling, then all of a sudden, he said a loud and extremely angry “FUCK!”
Why? Because the migraine was disappearing. Not just a couple levels on the pain scale, but it was fucking vanishing like it had never existed in the first place. Sasha could feel the throbbing lessen, and in its retreat, the light and noise sensitivity bid adieu and was also carried off.
Within a fucking minute––a fucking minute––nothing remained, except the emotional fatigue from what had just transpired.
Sasha got up and turned on the lights, then wiped his hands down his face. In the back of his head, he’d almost wished it hadn’t worked, because the consequences of what he’d just figured out were too fucked up.
Somehow, he was… connected with those two men.
And they wanted to see him again.
We’ll bring the drinks this time.
CHAPTER 7
Sasha stared out his living room window with a blank look on his face, but even though his expression was void of any emotion, his mind was a whirlwind.
He was feeling… better physically than he had in months. When he’d woken up the next morning, after drinking from that metal vial, he was alert and energetic. Ready to face the day. There was an energy to him, a glowing inside of his chest that seemed to brighten his senses, and shine light on areas of his mind that had been dark and dormant.
In a way, it was almost like he’d taken a hit from a wonderful drug, but it was Friday evening now and he was still feeling decent. He’d drank the cum on Wednesday, so if it was a drug, it was the most longest lasting drug he’d ever encountered.
And the headaches… fucking completely gone. Sasha had been on such a high because of this it had been frustrating not having anyone to tell. How could he explain to Jobe just what had finally gotten rid of the migraine? To fucking anyone?
Including Tom… who would be arriving at any moment.
There was just no way, no way he could tell anyone. They’d think he was insane, and in all respects, stepping away and looking in, he fucking was.
“But I knew this,” Sasha mumbled. He slicked back his short black hair and sighed. “Fuck, I’m fucked.”
Sasha reached into his pocket and pulled out the note. He unfolded the brown parchment and read it for probably the billionth time. His mind was ravaging him with questions, but though he wanted to explore them, perhaps even answer some of them, whenever he approached the prospect of trying to meet Kheva and Kel, he became embarrassed with himself.
He wanted answers, badly, but these men had jumped him and assaulted him; they were dangerous. Even if he was curious, there was no way he could pursue them… it was about principle.
Right?
Sasha jumped when a person walked past his window, but he immediately recognized it as Tom. As the psychiatrist knocked on Sasha’s door, Sasha sprinted over and unlocked it.
“Sasha, you’re looking well,” Tom said. He was holding a black briefcase in his hand, and in the other, was a holder with two Tim Horton’s coffees in it. “The house looks fantastic too.”
Sasha took the coffees from him. “Yeah, I’ve… actually been feeling a lot better these last few days.”
Tom gave him a smile as he took off his shoes and jacket. “Lex has mentioned that to me. How has that voice been? Active?”
Sasha sat down on his couch and took a sip of coffee. “Quiet actually,” Sasha admitted. He wracked his brains about how he could explain to Tom why he was feeling so much better, without confessing what he’d had to do.
“Good,” Tom said. He sat down as well and put his briefcase on Sasha’s cleaned off coffee table. “I’ve brought over some information on Lamronall and Seroquel. I thought perhaps we could go over the drugs, their positive–”
“I… didn’t want anti-psychotics,” Sasha cut in. “I’m not psychotic, Dr. Daniel.”
Tom raised his hands defensively. “It’s not implying you’re psyc
hotic, Sasha,” he said patiently. “It’s to help with the mood swings, the manic episodes as well as the depressive episodes. It’s to level you out and make things easier for you to cope with.”
Sasha chewed on his cheek. Maybe if he was curled up on the floor writhing in pain he’d be more open to it, to anything that would offer a reprieve. But now that he was feeling better than ever… he didn’t want to be drugged.
“I – I’ve been feeling really good lately,” Sasha said.
“Which I suspect might be a mild manic episode,” Tom said. Sasha bristled at the thought. He was quickly starting to not like this psychiatrist. “You can have highs and lows, Sasha. You may feel better now, but what about during a low? With some medication, you’ll be right in the middle where you should be.” Tom took out a prescription pad from his briefcase and began writing on it. “The Seroquel will help with sleep too. I know you have issues sleeping…” He glanced up over his thick brown eyebrows. “Has anyone else tried to get your blood, Sasha?”
Sasha’s brow knitted and an ember of anger burned his tongue. “Don’t patronize me, Tom. I have proof it fucking happened,” he said before he could stop himself. He swore under his breath and shook his head. What a big fucking mouth I have.
“Proof?” Tom said, and his tone was patronizing. Or at least that’s how Sasha translated it. “Sasha, no one is here to attack you, or to tell you you’re seeing things. Why do you feel like I’m being patronizing?”
This fucking psychiatrist had a way of sounding like he was saying the right things, but in reality, he was calling you crazy while pointing and laughing. It was infuriating, especially since Sasha didn’t have the verbal skills to call him on it without looking like an idiot.
“Because you don’t believe me,” Sasha said sharply.
“I asked you if anyone has been after your blood, Sasha. How can that mean I don’t believe you?”
Sasha’s teeth ground. He clasped his fingers, the paper coffee cup in his hand, and stared into it.
All was quiet, until Sasha could hear the scratching of a pen. He looked up after there was a tearing sound, and watched as Tom put a prescription on his coffee table.
“How is your arm healing, Sasha?” Tom asked, his tone seeping kindness. “You still have it heavily bandaged. It’s not getting infected, is it?”
Sasha shook his head. “Nope, I’m just a slow healer.” He wanted Tom to leave, everything coming out of this man’s mouth he didn’t like, but one of the side effects of extreme social anxiety was not wishing to be seen as rude or not appreciative. Tom wasn’t charging any money for these home visits, and he wasn’t outwardly being an asshole… so Sasha just had to sit and deal with it until eventually the guy left on his own.
“And the voice hasn’t been forcing you to harm yourself?”
Again, Sasha shook his head.
“If you start taking the medication now, Sasha, I believe by the time you have another low, it should be kicking in.”
“Okay,” Sasha said. He had no plans on doing it, or even filling the script, but there was little point in arguing. Just nod your head and play nice with the doctor, and once he leaves, do what you had every intention of doing: nothing. “Anything else?”
“Is there anything you wish to share with me at this time? Questions or concerns?”
And again, another shake of Sasha’s head.
Tom looked like he wanted to say more, but in the end, the psychiatrist only nodded. “I have some other suggestions for you. Things that may be able to help. Keeping a journal for one, or something to keep track of your moods… Perhaps next time we can go over some of these ideas?”
“Okay,” Sasha said again. He was dismayed to realize that his good mood had been successfully soured. It had been years since he’d felt this good, physically, mentally, and even emotionally, and the doctor had killed it.
Weren’t head doctors supposed to do the opposite?
Tom returned Sasha’s nod and rose. “I’m going to have a word with your uncle then. Have a good evening Sasha.”
“Okay, thanks for coming,” Sasha said. He picked up the prescription as the door closed to Lex’s side of the house and read it.
Lamronall 50 mg. Seroquel 5mg.
“I’m not crazy,” Sasha whispered. He flicked the script onto the coffee table and leaned back with his coffee. “I have proof… I saw them a second time. I have the fucking metal vial and I have the god damn note.” He glanced at the vial, resting unassuming beside his television, and took a drink of his coffee.
It was like being stuck between a rock and a brick wall. He wanted to tell Tom, Lex, and Jobe what he’d received. The metal vial and the note. But if he did… he’d be forced to explain what they were.
If he did, it would solve so many of his problems… but he’d have to admit not only what the cure was, but what he himself had ingested. What was the lesser of the two evils? Sure, they’d think he was fucking crazy for drinking from that vial, but then they wouldn’t be pushing anti-psychotics on him and thinking he was some schizophrenic nutcase.
I don’t want to take any drugs… I don’t want to be drugged and fucked up, especially now that I know it isn’t all in my head. They’re real, they exist, and… they know a lot more about me than I do.
Sasha got up and followed Tom to his uncle’s side of the house. He had the metal vial in his pocket and the note firmly in his hand.
As he walked down the hallway towards the living room, he overheard them. “–in a manic state right now,” Sasha heard Tom say. “Even if you have to grind them into his food… he has to take something before he ends up hurting himself, or you and Jobe.”
“What if it’s not a manic state? What if he’s just feeling better finally?” Lex asked, his tone defensive.
“Then the issue still remains that he’s had vivid delusions. The men on the road? After his blood? Not to mention the masochism.”
Sasha’s teeth ground, unable to stand any more, he stalked out of the hallway and into the living room. “I didn’t fucking imagine them!” Sasha snapped. “And if I wasn’t so worried about you all thinking I’m crazy, I could explain to you exactly what’s been happening to me.”
Lex and Tom’s attention shot to him, both of their eyes widened like two boys who’d just been caught kissing behind the schoolhouse. “Sasha…” Lex began, but Tom raised a hand and turned towards Sasha.
“Is there something you need, Sasha?” Tom asked, using that patronizing voice.
Sasha stalked up to Lex and Tom. He opened up the brown parchment and showed it to the both of them.
“The same men who jumped me dropped this off at my front door with a vial,” Sasha said, his tone frosted. “How’s that for hallucination?”
Lex’s expression turned from guilt to shock as he looked down at the brown parchment. He gawked at it until his eyes travelled to Tom.
“Tom… this isn’t Sasha’s writing…” he said slowly.
But Tom only shook his head. “Maybe not, but where does it have Sasha’s name? Nightcrawler? Walk in the moonlight and drinks? Sounds like a love note he found on the side of the road.”
Sasha’s temper flared. “How about this then?” He held up the metal vial. “They were after my fucking blood and my cum.” Lex’s eyes became wider and his face paled. “They got both, and I know why they need it. They get headaches too, just like I do, and that cures them. That’s what cures us of our migraines.”
The living room became dead quiet.
Lex and Tom stared at Sasha; they both stared at Sasha like he was holding a severed head.
And while they stared… Sasha felt his fleeting moment of truthful bravery drip away, until all that was left was a stone-cold awareness of what he’d just said out loud.
To his uncle and the psychiatrist.
And with that, Sasha began to lose his composure. “I… I found a cure… myself but it stopped working. Remember that horrible migraine I had? What… what was in this vial they
gave me cured it. I’m not crazy, they exist, and I’m one of them.”
Lex looked down at the vial and removed the stopper. He held the vial upside down and shook it. “There’s nothing inside…” he said slowly.
“There was but I drank it,” Sasha said. His face was beginning to burn, and the realization that he’d made a huge mistake talking to Lex and Tom, was coming swiftly. “It – I was able to use something similar to help my migraines but it stopped working… so I know… so I know it was that.”
Suddenly Sasha felt a pang behind his eyes. He grabbed his head and winced, before shutting his eyes tight and swearing.
It was back… two days, that’s as long as it lasts with theirs… two days.
“I… I need to go,” Sasha stammered. He opened his eyes and quickly retreated back to his apartment.
“This is fucking cum?!” Sasha suddenly heard Lex exclaimed. “Sasha… what the fuck?!”
Sasha broke into a run, and once he was safely inside of his half of the house, he slammed the door shut and locked it. Quickly then, he made sure the windows and doors were locked, and went to his bedroom.
What the hell had just happened? What the fuck was wrong with him?
Sasha grabbed his head and whined, the migraine coming back with renewed vengeance. It was coming at him like it was pissed off Sasha had found a way to stifle it; he knew it was going to be a bad one.
There was a knock on the interior door of his apartment. “Sasha? Open up the door,” Lex called on the other side.
“I have a migraine, just fuck off, alright?” Sasha yelled back.
“Sasha… please tell me you didn’t drink some stranger’s cum…”
Lex’s disgusted tone drew out not just anger, but embarrassment too. “If I fucking did, it means you’ll have to believe that they actually exist. So sure, Uncle Lex, I drank some stranger’s fucking spunk. I’m not fucking insane!”
Immediately punishing him for raising his voice, the migraine gave a powerful throb, one that had Sasha seeing flashing lights in the corners of his vision. He stifled a cry and closed his eyes. “My head’s really bad… just, please, leave me alone.” Sasha took in a deep breath, his head cradled in his arms.