by Amy Cross
"Okay," he says, reaching out for the pack of razors, "let's just -"
Stepping back, I hiss at him.
He stops dead and stares at me.
Looking over my shoulder, I see that one of the other shoppers has noticed this little confrontation. The fucking idiot probably thinks I didn't see him looking at me, but I did. In normal circumstances, he'd have incurred my wrath and he'd have mere seconds to live, but he's lucky today. I'm not in a position to flex my full potential, and it's hardly likely that I'm gonna even bother to remember his pathetic little face once I'm stronger.
"Adeline -" the store guy says, with a clear hint of fear in his voice, "let's not turn this into a scene. I'd hate to have to call the cops."
I hiss again.
"Adeline -"
Before he can finish, I rip the packet of razor blades open. Some of them drop down to the floor, but I manage to keep hold of three, which is more than enough.
"Okay, Adeline," he continues, clearly enjoying it every time he gets to say my name, "I'll cut you a deal, okay? If you'll just walk out of the store right now, with those razor blades, I'll sort something out with your mother next time she comes in. I'm sure she'll be willing to pay if it means that the police aren't involved." He pauses for a moment, and it's clear that he's making a laughable attempt to stare me down. "But you do have to leave right now," he adds. "Is that something you can do?"
For a moment, I consider hurting him. I could do it. Then again, what's the point? He's just an idiot in a late-night store, and the last thing I need is to get into trouble for some random attack. I need to ignore my foolish human urges and focus on the bigger picture. Stuffing the razor blades into my pocket, I push past the guy and hurry toward the door. As soon as I'm out in the night air, I take a deep breath and run across the parking lot, making for the trees. Climbing through the undergrowth, I can't help but smile as I think of the total fucking victory I just scored. I got what I wanted, and now I'm set for one final act before I'm ready to face Kerry Herbert and taste her blood.
Five
I've been waiting for this moment, but now it's here, I feel... scared? No, that's not quite the right word. Nervous? Yeah, maybe. I guess there are two problems, really. First, there's the fact that I know this is gonna hurt a lot. Second, there's the fact that it's the final stage before I go after Kerry. This is the act that I've been building up to for so long, and all the pain and blood is going to be worth it. One day, when I'm strong and powerful, I'll look back on this as the moment when my preparations and plans become something more concrete. Between now and Saturday night, I'm going to complete my metamorphosis and shrug off this old human soul. This is when the vampire will emerge from my dark heart, pushing aside my humanity as if it's nothing more than an abandoned skin.
So why the hell is my hand shaking?
Setting the razor blade down, I try to reset my thoughts. I guess my human side is holding the rest of my soul back. In a way, I expected this. All my life, I've been subject to the stupidity and whims of my birthright. I've watched as those around me have fallen prey to their weaknesses, and I've felt the same weaknesses tug at my mind. I don't know why, however, but I was lucky enough to be chosen to live a very different kind of life. From an early age, I could feel a kind of darkness growing in my soul, and I nurtured it until it began to speak to me. The vampire life is my destiny, and nothing's going to hold me back. I am what I am, but soon I'll be so much stronger. If my human side is panicking now, it's only because the end is nigh.
I take a deep breath.
My hand has stopped shaking.
Picking the razor blade back up, I glance over at the door one more time. It's 4am and my parents are fast asleep, and hopefully neither of them is gonna wake up and come and disturb me. I'd rather perform this operation in my own room, but I need the benefit of the bathroom mirror. The harsh electric light makes me look particularly ghoulish, which I kind of like. It's fitting and appropriate that I should look so goddamn cool now that I'm on the verge of reaching perfection.
Slowly, I open my mouth and stare at my teeth. I've waited so long for my dull, human teeth to fall away and be replaced by a proper set of fangs. I always assumed that the process would just happen at some point, and that I'd know when the time was right. I remember when I was a kid and my baby teeth fell out, I thought the moment had arrived, but normal adult teeth just came through. I was crushed, but I came up with a new plan pretty quickly. I must have been seven or eight years old by the time I was set on the course that has led me here today. That little version of me would be so proud if she could see me today.
Damn it, I'm delaying.
I'm getting all nostalgic and I'm thinking about the past instead of the present.
Staring at myself in the mirror, I let out a brief hiss.
Fuck, I can be terrifying sometimes.
Holding the razor blade up to my mouth, I tell myself that this is the moment. I gently press the edge of the blade against the enamel of one of my upper cuspids, and I press hard. Slowly, I try to slice down, but the edge of the blade just scrapes along the side of the tooth. Undaunted, I try again, pressing harder this time. Again, however, I meet with no success. Taking a deep breath, I try for a third time, but I scrape the top a little first, hoping to create a scratch mark that I can use. When I scrape down again, I feel some resistance, which is perfect, and I force myself to push and push. It's not easy, and I start to worry that the blade might be about to break, but suddenly the razor slices down and I almost slam my face into the sink. For a moment, I'm not sure if anything happened, but then I spot it: a thin slice of enamel in the basin.
Checking myself in the mirror, I see that it's a good start, but there's definitely a long way to go.
I decide to take a slower, more careful approach. Scraping and scraping at the tooth, I manage to get little pieces away until finally, after almost an hour, it's actually beginning to look just a little bit like the vampire fang I'm seeking. It's only now, of course, that I realize I have no way of lengthening the tooth, which means it's gonna look kinda silly, but I figure it'll still work, and maybe it'll just start growing anyway. I keep going, and soon it's a proper, if short, fang. Tilting my head to one side, I hold my lips back and imagine my handiwork.
Good.
Not perfect, but good.
I hiss, and then I smile.
Figuring that my parents might start getting up around 6am, I decide that I need to work faster. Turning to the other side of my mouth, I start trying to shave away some more enamel. My fingers are getting a little clumsy, and I can feel myself getting more and more tired. Still, I don't have time to succumb to weak human failings, so I just focus on the task at hand. I can do this. I know I can do this. As I work faster and faster, more and more pieces of enamel start dropping into the sink. I don't really have time to stop and check things properly, so I rely on instinct alone. Glancing at my watch, I see that it's approaching 5:30am, which means I need to speed things up. Damn it, why can't my parents just fuck off for once? Why can't they -
And that's when it happens.
I don't know if it's carelessness, or if this tooth is different to the first, but somehow I manage to accidentally scrape a little too much away, and the edge of the razor blade digs into the nerve.
The pain is indescribable. It shoots through my entire body, causing me to drop the blade and fall back. Losing my balance, I slip on the bathroom floor and slam down hard, banging my head against the side of the bath. As I try to recover, the pain arcs through my mind. Raw and exposed, the nerve is screaming. All other thoughts clear from my mind, replaced by pure, undaunted pain. Although I try to keep quiet, I can't help but let out a few gasps as I writhe on the floor, rolling from one side of the bathroom to the other and then back again, all the while clutching at my face and waiting for the pain to go away. It can't last forever. Sooner or later, it has to stop.
Please God, make it stop.
After a few minutes,
however, it's worse than ever. Every time I move, every time my tongue brushes against the tooth, I feel the pain increase. I try to get up, but all I can manage is to get on all fours. Looking down at the floor, I see to my shock that I'm bleeding a little, either from the tooth or, more likely, from where I cut the side of my mouth as I pulled the blade out. I reach out and try to wipe the blood from the floor, but I just end up smearing it all over the place. Panicking, and starting to shake, I force myself to turn and crawl over to the sink, where I haul myself up just far enough to be able to see my face in the mirror.
I look like a total fucking mess.
There's pain in my eyes. Sure, I've had tons of psychological pain over the years, but this is the first true, unadulterated physical pain I've ever experienced. Trembling, I lean closer and look at my blood-stained face. The pain in my tooth is getting worse and worse, throbbing with an intensity that I never thought possible. I carefully hold my lips back and see that the side of the tooth has been completely ripped away, exposing a dark blue mass that I can only assume is the nerve. Damn it, I should have studied the structure of teeth before I started doing this, and I should have worked more slowly. This pain is too much, and I'm not sure if I can handle it much longer.
I want to scream, but screaming's not an option. My stupid mother would come banging on the door, demanding to know what's wrong. As always, I have to deal with things alone. Grabbing a couple of towels, I start hurriedly trying to wipe up as much of the blood as possible. It doesn't take too long, and then I run the tap and wash all the little pieces of tooth down the sink. Despite the agony, I'm able to get the bathroom sorted out pretty well, and finally I take a step back and see that I've covered my tracks. I take the razor blades before unlocking the door and hurrying through to my room.
Half an hour later, writhing in agony on the bed as my tooth continues to hurt like a bitch, I hear my mother and father sloping along to the bathroom. They have no idea. No fucking idea at all.
Six
"Did you steal those razor blades?" my mother screams, following me into the kitchen just a couple of minutes after I emerge from my bedroom for lunch.
"What?" I ask, acting as if it's the most insane idea ever. Luckily, I'm a pretty good liar, and I'm pretty sure I sound totally convincing. She probably can't even tell that I'm in agony.
"Did you steal them, Adeline?" she shouts. "This is your last chance to be honest with me. Did you, or did you not, steal razor blades from the all-night store?"
"No!" I mutter, grabbing a glass and pouring myself some water. It's kinda hard to argue with her when I can't look at her properly. The last thing I need is for her to see the injuries to my mouth. However, as soon as I start drinking, the water hits my exposed nerve and I spit the water into the sink. Trembling slightly, I try to keep from screaming.
"What's wrong with you?" my mother asks. "Adeline, look at me!"
"I'm fine!" I shout back at her. Why can't she just leave me alone?
"Look at me!" she says, grabbing my arm and trying to turn me to face her.
"Fuck you," I mutter under my breath.
"You're bleeding," she says, sounding more concerned than angry.
"I'm not bleeding."
"Let me see!"
Turning to her, I let out a loud hiss.
"Adeline, I'm calling Dr. Latimer," she says, taking a step back. There's fear in her eyes. Good. I like it when I scare her. It means she's starting to accept that I'm changing. Not that she can understand me entirely, of course, but it's a good start.
"I'm fine," I mutter, sounding strong and resolute even though my bottom lip is trembling. The pain from my tooth is intense, and I don't know if I can handle it much longer.
"I know you stole those razors," she says, staring at me. "I went into the store this morning and Joe Cale showed me the security camera footage."
"Bullshit," I spit back at her. "I'm not on any security camera footage."
"You are," she replies. "Oh, Adeline, you most certainly are."
I shake my head. She's wrong. She has to be wrong. I don't show up on footage. I've tested the theory myself, and I know it's true.
"Adeline," she continues, her voice trembling a little, "did you hear about that little girl who went missing?"
"Stupid little bitch," I mutter.
"It wasn't that far from here," she says. "They're still looking for her."
"Big deal," I reply, shrugging. "Someone probably grabbed her. Right now, they're -" I stop speaking as suddenly, with crystal-clear clarity, I realize what my mother's talking about. She's doing it in a round-about kind of way, but I swear to God she's testing the water and seeing if maybe there's any chance that I know what happened to that little girl. My own mother thinks I might go out and randomly kidnap or kill some kid! For a moment, I feel tears start to well up behind my eyes, but finally I tell myself that there's no fucking way I'm going to cry.
"I'm going to call Dr. Latimer," she continues, clearly trying hard to stay calm, "and then we'll go and see him, okay? And you need to make sure you take your medication. Maybe..." She pauses for a moment. "Maybe pack an overnight bag, Adeline. It's a long drive, and he might think it's a good idea for us to stay. You know how tired I get when I drive." She waits for me to say something. "Does that sound like a good idea? Shall we do that?"
I stare at her. The last thing I want to do is anything that makes the bitch happy. Still, it might be to my benefit if I'm at least able to get her off my back for a few minutes.
"I need to clean up," I mutter, stifling the extreme anger that's bubbling under my skin, "but yeah, I'll pack an overnight bag. When do you want to leave?"
"I'll call him now," she says, grabbing the phone with trembling hands. "We can head off as soon as you're ready. How does half an hour sound?"
I nod.
She smiles.
Pathetic bitch.
"I'll go and..." I start to say, but my voice trails off. Pushing past her, I make my way through to my room. The poor, stupid cow thinks I'm actually going to get into her car and let her drive me to see Latimer. The odds of that happening, however, are zero. I'm never going near Latimer's office again, especially if my insane mother thinks that there's even a chance that I was involved with that little girl's disappearance. Despite everything that's happened, I'm still shocked that she could even consider the possibility that I'd do something like that. This is exactly the kind of problem I've been dealing with my whole life. My mother's a bitch, and my father's a bastard, and they think I'd kill a kid. A little kid. Not like Kerry. An actual, little kid.
As I push my bedroom door shut, I glance across at the window and I realize that, despite the agony in my mouth and tooth, and despite the fact that it's only Friday night, I have to bring my plan forward. Kerry Herbert has to die tonight.
Seven
By the time I've climbed out of my bedroom window and made my way quietly away from the house, it's still only lunchtime, which means I've got maybe twelve hours before I can go and get Kerry. The delay is definitely a complication, but I figure I can manage, so I head across town and out into the woods. By the time I'm among the trees, I can't help but smile at the thought of my panicked mother realizing that I've done a runner. She'll probably call the police and ask them to help find me, though I doubt she'll get much luck. Right now, the police are more concerned about finding that little girl, and they already know what I'm like. They'll just tell my mother that I'm off doing something crazy, and they'll tell her to stop worrying. I'm sure they'll try to pick me up later, but by then they'll be too late.
Idiots.
My stomach rumbles as I keep walking. I should have eaten something before I left, but I didn't have time to think clearly. Besides, it's probably a good idea to fast for the rest of the day, since I'm going to have such a huge feast once I get hold of Kerry. Deciding that I need to build up my strength ahead of tonight's fun, I eventually find a small, secluded area of wild and untamed undergrowth, and I crawl
into the bushes. More than anything, I need to sleep, even though the pain in my mouth is intense. Hell, if I can't sleep, then at least I can relax a little.
Somehow, I manage to drift off for a while. Either that, or I pass out. When I wake up, the sky is getting dark, and I see that it's almost 9pm. Climbing out of the bush, I wipe some fresh blood from the side of my mouth, and I quickly discover that one side of my face is slightly swollen. I guess the cut has become infected, but none of this is gonna be a problem in the long-term. Although my tooth is still hurting, it's a totally bearable kind of pain, and it seems to have become something I can ignore. Feeling slightly weak, I walk slowly and carefully back toward town, aware that my reserves of energy are a little low and therefore need to be conserved. I'm so close to the finish line, but I need to pace myself properly.
I make my way through the dark streets. A light rain is falling, and I have to duck into the shadows a couple of times as people drive past. There are still tons of police cruisers out looking for the missing little girl, and I can't discount the possibility that my asshole of a mother might have somehow managed to mobilize some cops to keep an eye out for me. I guess she probably brought up my previous problems in an attempt to persuade them that I need help. Hell, she might even have claimed that I'm dangerous. Still, I'm a step ahead of everyone else, and I manage to make it to Kerry's house without being noticed.
Heading through to the back garden, I find that there's no-one at home. Her parents have obviously already left for their weekend away, and Kerry's probably at her netball or handball practice or whatever the hell it is that she does on Friday nights. I take some time to take a look around, and then finally, to my surprise, I find that the back door has been left unlocked. For a moment, I can't help but wonder whether it's some kind of trap, but finally I realize that there's no way anyone knows I'm coming here. I slip inside the dark house and decide that I need to hide myself somewhere. After all, I've got the benefit of being able to surprise the bitch, but I need to make that advantage count. I have no idea when she'll be getting home, but I have to be poised and ready to strike at any moment. Sometimes, I feel as if I'm like a coiled predator, hunting these pathetic humans with ease.