The Progeny

by Shelley Crowley

  Maybe he was turning back into the pathetic loser he had been before Elizabeth became a part of his life.

  When he reached the second floor, he followed the corridor to his room and passed an open bedroom door with a maid’s trolley beside it. He paused and backed up, spotting the maid in her black and white frilly outfit walking into the ensuite with a pile of fresh towels. Once she disappeared into the adjoining room, Alexander snooped in her trolley and spotted what he was looking for amongst several other things that Nico had ‘not been able to provide for them’. He plucked up the pair of small fabric scissors and slipped them into his jeans pocket before continuing to his room.

  Once locked in the privacy of his bedroom, Alexander got to work with the scissors and began slicing and dicing the contents of his wardrobe and transformed them for generic and drab, to works of art. He yanked off his white t-shirt and sat on the bed as he made adjustments. First, he chopped off the short sleeves, then paused half-way through creating the plunged neckline and instead curved it back up and made it not as deep. Due to his lack of eating, he felt that maybe showing off a lot of his chest wasn’t the best idea. He looked a little too sickly for that sort of display now. He should eat. Part of him wanted to eat. Maybe it would help his brain if he got the right nutrition. But he just couldn’t seem to let anything pass his lips besides measly cereal bars.

  It was because he wanted blood. It was because he wanted to be a vampire. Eating human food would just stress the fact that his want was now unobtainable. And that thought distressed him to the point of curling up on the floor in the foetal position and crying like a wounded soldier.

  Shaking away the intrusive thoughts, Alexander continued with his scissor work and sliced down the sides of his t-shirt to create new gaping arm holes that ran to about four inches from the hem. He smiled at his handy work and tossed the t-shirt aside. While keeping his jeans on so he knew exactly where the knees were, he created two small holes in the middle of each knee before using his hands to rip them further open until both of his bony knees were visible. Satisfied, he yanked his jeans off too and that little nagging pill dropped out like it was begging for attention. Alexander picked it up and scrutinized it between his thumb and forefinger. He then looked to the stolen scissors on the bed.

  He really couldn’t figure out Nico’s game. Did he actually want to help him? Because surely if he didn’t... if he actually wanted him to die… why not just get his men to do it and get it over with? He sure as hell hadn’t shied away from bringing pain to Joe so that had destroyed his brewing theory that maybe he didn’t mind hurting vampires but humans were a completely different matter.

  If Nico wanted Alexander dead, he would be.

  So why did he still not want to take the pill? It could solve everything.

  Or make it all ten times worse.

  Dropping the pill on the bed, he replaced it with the pair of scissors. He opened them and held them to his throat, his grip tight around one of the blades and half of the handle.

  How exactly could things get worse? He pressed the blade to his skin and gasped at the cold bite of the metal. He could end it all.

  If there is a way to fix the cure, I know Nico isn’t going to stop until he finds it. Well maybe Alexander was sick of waiting. And maybe he was convinced that there was nothing to wait for. What was going on inside his mind was not some simple disorder that a special mix of drugs would cure. It was his soul. His conscience. And you couldn’t cure a conscience. You could only clear it. And with all of his misdeeds left in the past, he had no way of doing that.

  It turned out that Alexander didn’t need nasty side-effects to have suicidal thoughts.

  He gasped at the pain that sliced through his hand and released his grip on the scissors’ blade. “Fuck,” he hissed at the bloody slash across his palm. He held the cut to his mouth to stop the blood from dripping, grabbed the tiny pill in his other hand and raced to the bathroom. He dropped the pill in the toilet, flushed it, and ran his bloody hand under the tap. He winced as the cold water attacked the fresh cut. As the blood washed away, Alexander stared at the shallow slice half expecting it to heal over. The backs of his eyes burned and he knocked off the water. The blood continued to ooze so he wrapped several layers of toilet paper around it to keep it from running down his wrist.

  The pulsing pain in his hand brought him to his senses. What had he been thinking? Killing himself? After everything he had been through?

  He had made a promise to his sister. He was going to get back to her. And he was going to take Seb with him. Somehow. He needed to believe that. Even if his brain would never recover and it would continue to melt into mush – he’d have Seb by his side going through the exact same thing.

  That was if Seb still wanted to be by his side when they got out of this place.

  He really hoped he hadn’t screwed up big time by kissing him and made it seem to Seb like he had other intentions than simply having someone to experience this new messed up humanity with. And of course, a part of him did want more than that. A part of him longed for the touch of Seb’s lips against his and the brush of his stubble against his cheeks. But Seb didn’t want that. Or rather, he didn’t think he’d be capable of that sort of relationship, which he completely understood.

  Alexander turned off all of the lights, slipped under the crisp covers of his bed and curled up in the middle of it. The bed felt so big without Seb beside him. Suddenly gripped by the incessant claws of anxiety, Alexander rolled over and switched on the beside lamp. Part of him expected another one of his horrifyingly real hallucinations to have crept up on him. Maybe his son standing at the bottom of his bed. Just the thought made his heart start to pound and sweat begin to bead between his shoulder blades. In nothing but his boxer shorts, Alexander resorted to kicking off the covers to hopefully relieve himself of the sudden flush of heat. But then he felt exposed, in the middle of the bed, alone and uncovered. Why was everything so difficult now? He couldn’t even sleep without having a panic attack.

  He turned to the clock on the bedside table. It had just passed ten o’clock. He could hear footsteps outside and the murmurings of the other Cured calling it a night. The voices gave him a little comfort but then he nearly jumped out of his skin when there was a knock on his door.

  His eyes flew to the bloody scissors on the floor in a panic. Had Nico noticed they were missing? Had he been caught? Alexander scrabbled off the bed and threw the scissors into the wardrobe before crossing the room and answering the door.

  Alexander’s heart leaped when he saw that it was not Nico, but Seb.

  He was swaying forwards with his hand propped against the doorframe. He looked haggard. The red rings under his eyes were swollen and puffy, and the whites of his eyes looked painfully bloodshot. His lips trembled as he opened them to speak. “I need to sleep,” he said simply.

  Alexander nodded and stepped aside. He almost fell through the door before staggering to the bed like a drunk. But he wasn’t drunk, he was severely sleep deprived and probably half starved.

  Seb sank into the bed and buried his face into the pillow. Alexander got back in beside him and threw the covers over the both of them. Feeling Seb’s warmth on his side made Alexander suddenly feel at ease again and he melted into the mattress as if it was warm butter. Seb didn’t move and Alexander fought the urge to cuddle up against him. Instead, he curled up with a content smile on his face as he imagined himself playing with Seb’s tousled hair, watching it spin around his fingers.

  It was overwhelming how much of an effect Seb had on him. Only moments ago, Alexander had had a pair of scissors to his throat, and now he was trying to calm the swelling butterflies in his stomach that seemed to flurry whenever Seb was near. And the fact that Seb was the one that had sought him out for comfort, gave him the kick he needed to not become that pathetic loser he had once been.

  And when people needed him, Alexander could do just about anything.

  Alexander’s eyes drifted in a
nd out of focus lazily as his fingers traced over the contoured muscles of Seb’s arm. The duvet was pushed down around their thighs because their shared body heat made it unnecessary. Alexander had his head bent into Seb’s chest- he had woken up that way, and when he had seen that Seb was still asleep, he had refused to move.

  He could hear the soft beat of his friend’s heart and when his chest rose as he inhaled, it grazed Alexander’s forehead and sent a ripple of joy down every one of his nerves. Oh, how he wished they could be more than this. He had wanted Seb to wrap him up in his strong arms in the night and hold him tight as if keeping him from falling apart. But after face-planting into the pillow, he had only rolled onto his side to face Alexander in his sleep, probably not even realising what he had done. Alexander’s slumber had been free of nightmares and by the calm, level breathing from the body close beside him, he assumed that the same went for Seb.

  Because that was the only reason why Seb had come to his room late in the night. To get a good night’s rest. Not because of the gripping need to be with Alexander. Alexander was just a comforter for him. Like a teddy bear or a bottle of cough syrup. And that thought pierced him in the heart so bad it made him wince.

  “What happened to your hand?” Seb’s voice was raspy from sleep but still soft enough to not startle Alexander. But what did send his heart racing was when Seb scooped up his hand and ran his thumb over the scabbed slice across his palm. The makeshift bandage Alexander had created must have unravelled in the night.

  Alexander didn’t want to move from his curled-up spot beside him, his nose so close to his chest that his scent was overpowering, but he angled his head slightly to see Seb’s face. He was looking down at him drowsily through his thick black eyelashes.

  “I had an accident with a pair of scissors,” Alexander admitted, wondering why his voice felt so dumb in his own ears. He sounded like he was under some sort of spell.

  “Scissors?” Seb arched a dark eyebrow.

  “I stole them.” A mischievous grin played on his lips and he pretended to try and hide it by pressing his mouth to Seb’s chest. Seb didn’t seem to mind. His eye contact didn’t waver. And he still had hold of Alexander’s wounded hand.

  Had Seb been awake the whole time Alexander had been giving his bare arm slow, longing caresses? And he hadn’t moved an inch. Not a flinch. Not a gasp. Nothing.

  Perhaps Seb didn’t think that he had the capacity to feel the other thing - the thing that trumped hate- but was it possible that he was maybe crushing on Alexander just as much as he was on him?

  So he had pushed Alexander away, big deal? Alexander had let his humiliation glaze over the fact that before that had happened… Seb had kissed him back.

  “Where from?” Seb’s voice snapped Alexander out of his dizzying thoughts.

  “Where what?”

  Seb laughed, his white teeth breaking through his plump lips. Alexander’s body jiggled against his as the throaty chuckle escaped him. “The scissors. Where did you get them from?”

  “Oh. I grabbed them from a maid’s trolley. I needed them to modify my clothes. She had a few restricted items hidden on there.”

  “Was there a razor?”

  “There was a razor.”

  Seb finally released Alexander’s hand and the tingling sensation on Alexander’s skin went with it. He scrubbed his stubble. “Mind grabbing it for me if you get a chance? My beard’s starting to itch like crazy. Out of the two things that I asked Nico to give me, he refused me one and gave me an alternative of the other.”

  Alexander wanted to protest the razor idea and tell him that he suited a stubble. That it made him look dishevelled like a sexy rock star - but he stifled the comment. Instead, he simply said, “Sure, I’ll grab you one.”

  “Cheers. You’re lucky you don’t have facial hair.”

  To this, Alexander rolled onto his back. He ran his hand over his baby smooth chin and cheeks. “Yeah, lucky for me my face never hit puberty.”

  Seb wheezed a laugh. The sight of the sudden elation in his jade eyes made Alexander’s heart swell. It was incredible how much he had changed from the moping man sat alone on the step. Because of him. “Watch it. It might catch up to you now.”

  The thought sent creeping dread up Alexander’s spine. Every time he thought about aging, he wanted to cry. Even if it meant aging with Seb. That would just be a cherry on top of a disgustingly wrinkly cake.

  The image of Mrs. Braverman as she flopped to the ground after Alexander had acted too quickly flashed in his mind’s eye and he only just managed to mask his cringe with a hard blink.

  “I don’t think I’d suit a beard,” was all he said.

  Seb’s eyes swept over his face as if calculating his features. “What about a handlebar moustache?”

  Alexander cackled. “Now there’s an idea. I could curl it up at the corners and everything.”

  “You’d look dashing.”

  Alexander gleamed up at him. “You think?”

  Seb just laughed before rolling upright and swivelling his legs over the edge of the bed. “I’d better get going. I need to get out of these clothes.” He looked at Alexander over his shoulder. “Thank you for letting me in last night. Turns out… I’m not so fond of being alone anymore, either. Well, not at night anyway.”

  Alexander was smiling at him from his pillow, fighting back the urge to grab his shirt and tug him back down into bed with him. “No problem. I’m glad you came. I was sort of freaking out a little myself.”

  Seb furrowed his brows. “I never asked you what Nico had called you in for.”

  Alexander’s heart plummeted at the memory of the encounter. “He… erhh… was just letting me know about his plans for helping us.”

  Seb nodded, looking satisfied with the answer, and rose to his feet. His clothes were rumpled and his t-shirt was twisted around his body. He yanked it into place and Alexander caught a flash of hip bone and the hair below his navel. “Grab me that razor when you can.”

  “Will do,” nodded Alexander, still sprawled out on the bed. “I think I know where the supply room is.”

  Seb sent him a soft smile before heading towards the door. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

  “Try to eat some breakfast.”

  He paused in front of the door, his back noticeably stiffening.

  “Those cereal bars are good,” Alexander added, trying to not sound too smothering.

  Seb just nodded curtly without looking around and shut the door behind him.

  Alexander knew he wouldn’t even attempt to eat. But he couldn’t exactly preach. He was constantly hungry. But the hunger was more of a constant dull ache now. An ache he could deal with.

  Sighing in bliss, he rolled over onto the other side of the mattress and pressed his face into the pillow, inhaling Seb’s scent. He wanted to lay there forever. In here was safe. Out there… he didn’t like the idea of out there. Will Nico want to know if he took the pill that he had flushed? Probably. He wanted to stick his nose into everything.

  Not wanting to wash away the tingly feeling that was still present on his skin, Alexander quickly changed into his now ripped up jeans and white t-shirt. He slotted the pair of scissors into his back pocket after wiping away the blood with a scrap of unwanted material. He avoided the bathroom.

  Before heading down the stairs, he followed the corridor of bedrooms to the end and found the supply room where he had spotted the maid parking up her trolley. The door was locked. He should have expected that. But as luck would have it, the trolley was stationed beside a door unattended. Bingo.

  He quickly switched the scissors for a razor, slipped the razor into his back pocket and leisurely strolled back down the corridor to present Seb with his gift. If he was going to get found out and get in trouble for stealing, well, Alexander didn’t care. He just wanted to make Seb smile again. But then the image of Joe’s bandaged up fingertips sprung into his mind, making him shudder. Perhaps he should watch his back.

  Seb was
n’t in the dining room, which Alexander had expected, and so he grabbed a green apple from the huge fruit bowl in the centre of the table and headed back out of the door.

  “Hey!” someone called out. Alexander spun around to see Dreadlocks and Snowflake making their way down the side of the table with their eyes on him.

  “Can we talk?” asked Snowflake. He was now dressed in a smart white shirt and jeans.

  Alexander groaned inwardly. “What about?”

  The two of them stopped before him. “We just- we wanted to thank you for sticking up for us in front of Nico,” said Dreadlocks, his amber eyes focused on Alexander’s pronounced collarbones rather than his face.

  “If anything, I made things worse,” said Alexander.

  “How could you possibly think that?”

  Alexander didn’t think that at all. Well, when he had stood up at this very table and called Nico’s bluff, he thought he had been doing right. But now Joe’s words of warning ricocheted around his skull.

  Alexander couldn’t become some sort of face of a rebellion. It hadn’t worked out well for Katniss and it wouldn’t work out well for him, either. Nico was already giving him crazy pills.

  Through a lump in his throat, Alexander said, “Nico was trying to protect us. He didn’t want us all freaking out. We need to stick together if we are going to work through this.”

  “But he has no idea what he’s doing,” snapped Snowflake.

  Alexander couldn’t meet his pale eyes. “We have to trust him.” Because if we don’t at least pretend, we’re all dead.

  He could feel them both scrutinizing him and he couldn’t help but look up. Dreadlocks looked as if he’d just lost a winning lottery ticket and Snowflake just looked pissed. His paper white skin was flushed to his hairline. “You know, I thought you were one of the good ones. One that didn’t give into Nico’s bullshit. But you’re just like the rest of them. A bloody lemming.”

  Alexander masked his anger with a look of defeat. “We’re not getting out of here until he lets us.” He locked eyes with Snowflake. “We’re all going through enough as it is, there’s no need to make it worse for ourselves. If we co-operate, Nico might be able to sort this mess out faster.” And we can all keep our fingernails.