“I said leave!”
Jade was on her feet first, sprinting out of the room and charging down the stairs. The rest followed, thundering out of the house, leaving bloody footprints in their wake.
Kip strolled to his window, watched as the blood-drenched congregation ran down his street in all directions, tits and balls flapping.
“Kip,” Zak said from behind him. “You motherfucker. You fucking—”
As soon as the kids were gone from Kip’s view, the anger seemed to subside some, bringing his pain right back to the forefront. A strangled whimper burst from his lips as his knees turned to jelly beneath him, and he crumbled to the floor. The open wounds on his torso wept endless blood as his skin throbbed, constant throbbing.
“Kip?”
Kip could barely breathe as he rocked himself in a pool of his blood, praying for the pain to ease up, just a smidgeon, anything.
Then Zak was beside him, lifted him to his feet, draped Kip’s arm over his shoulder and walked him down the attic steps, into the bathroom. Then Kip was in the tub, the back of his head resting on the hard porcelain, his blood swirling down the drain. Kip didn’t know how much longer he could bleed like this before he bled completely out. Before the nothingness came back and ate him whole.
“Hold on, Kip. Just hold on.”
Water hit him then, and though it was ice cold, it felt like fiery needles burrowing into him. He screamed and his mouth filled with water.
“I’m calling an ambulance.”
Kip wanted to turn the water off, but he couldn’t make himself move. Then the water became warmer, soothing. He breathed a sigh of relief, and in that same instant, the pain began to slowly fade away, replaced again by the euphoric vibrations. As the water pelted against him, he had to grab the edge of the tub as a powerful orgasm began in his stomach, spreading to his groin and legs.
Pearly seed spurted from his penis, which he just now realized was hard, and it mixed with the blood and swirled down the drain. Kip laughed. He ran his fingertips across the crater-ridden flesh of his chest and face, shuddering at the sensation, and he laughed and laughed.
“Yes! My cousin…something’s wrong with him. I’m not sure! Just please…shit I don’t even know. Hold on.” Zak lowered the phone. “Kip…your address. What’s your address!”
Kip spun his attention to his cousin who had his cell phone pressed against his ear, his eyes perfect circles, brow beginning to furrow as he studied Kip’s face.
“No,” Kip said through his laughter. “No ambulance. I feel great.”
“What? Are you fucking…I’m trying, ma’am. I’m trying…” Zak dropped the phone at his side, stepped closer to Kip. “Kip, please. You need help. You need to be checked out, seriously. Look how much blood you lost already.”
Kip only smiled and shook his head. “I promise, Zak. I’ve never felt better than I do right now. My body…it’s regenerating. I can feel it. I’m better than ever, Zak. Hang up the phone.”
“No. I won’t. You’re getting some help—”
“Hang up the fucking phone!”
Kip was on his feet before he knew it, and just that quickly, the anger was back, pumping through his bloodstream, making him want to cause pain, making him want to kill.
But not Zak. Never Zak. Right?
Zak backed away, the woman’s voice barely audible through the phone as she shouted, asking, begging for the address. It looked at first like Zak had been hurt by Kip’s outburst, but that look quickly twisted into a countenance of terror as he stared at Kip’s chest, then finally rose a shaking finger, dropped the phone.
Kip already knew before he looked. He could feel it, could taste it with every breath he took.
“Y-your skin. What the fuck…” Zak stared at Kip the way people had been staring at him his whole adolescent life. Face full of disgust, revulsion.
Kip ran his hand over the new bumps there, each one almost full again. The blood had slowed, nearly stopped completely now.
Kip stepped out of the tub, the water still hissing behind him as it sprayed from the showerhead. Zak took an equal step away from him.
“Zak…don’t look at me like that. It’s me…it’s still me. It’s Kip. Your cousin, remember?” Kip spun so he was facing the mirror, watched as the craters inflated like red bubbles over his face and chest, the skin thin and glistening as it pulsated. He could feel the flesh of his neck, back, and ass thrashing as well, could feel each new pimple filling back up with pus.
“Kip…what’s going on? This…this can’t be… We have to get you some help, man.”
Kip wanted to laugh again, but he held it in. His cousin was scared, looked ready to run away screaming at any second. So Kip hid his glee, put on a scowl, leaned his forehead against the bathroom wall.
“Help me, Zak. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
***
Zak glanced at the phone, was tempted to scoop it up and ask for help regardless of what Kip had said. He didn’t know if the police would be able to trace a cell phone call to that address, but he hoped they could.
“Help me, Zak. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Kip sounded like himself again. A moment ago, he sounded like someone completely different, the same person that had roared at all the students in the attic, scared them so bad that they scattered like alley cats.
He sounded like a monster. A demon. His voice had been deeper, gruff, full of rage and venom.
But now, his dorky, frail cousin seemed to be back. Resting his head against the wall and weeping softly. As he did this, the flesh of his back boiled and bubbled, zits growing and bulging right before Zak’s eyes.
“Kip,” Zak said as he took a tentative step forward, placed a soft hand on Kip’s shoulder. “We have to take you to someone, get you looked at. Something’s fucked up here, man. Maybe a doctor can figure out what’s going on. Maybe we should call your mom and—”
“No!” It was still Kip’s voice, but with a hint of demon.
“Kip…”
“Please, Zak. She’s worked so hard for this. We shouldn’t bother her, okay? We can figure this out, me and you. And if it gets worse…okay. We’ll see a doctor. But right now…I mean it. I feel great.”
You feel great? Are you fucking serious! You almost bled to death! You look like a nightmare!
“I just don’t see how it could possibly get any worse. I thought you were gonna die, man. I really did. Ah, fuck…my ribs. Chuck got me good.” Zak grimaced as he massaged his side, then slid his tongue over the drying blood on his lower lip. Through all the excitement, all the worry for Kip’s life, he had been numb to his own injuries. But they were reminding him of their existence now.
“Whatever’s inside of me, they’re crazy for it.”
“Yeah, we’ve fucking figured that already. What did you think would be different this time, Kip? Don’t try and tell me you didn’t expect that shit.”
“Not like this. It…it feels good. When they…you know, when they suck it out of me. It feels good. But then it started to hurt…I thought they were killing me.”
“They almost did kill you.”
“It’s like I can’t help it. It feels so good, I lose track of what’s going on…lose track of my own existence. When they’re feeding off me, I feel like a god, Zak. I can’t explain it any better than that.”
Kip sort of smiled when he said this, eyes blank and staring through the wall. He seemed to snap out of it, blinked rapidly before turning back to Zak.
“But I’m scared. I don’t know what to do.”
“Fucking get help. Maybe a doctor can’t help, maybe a doctor will be just as confused as we are. But we won’t know until we get you checked out.” Zak wanted to grab Kip by the shoulders and shake him.
“I don’t want to see a doctor.”
“You can’t be fucking serious. You like this shit, don’t you? You don’t want to see a doctor because you’re scared they’ll make it all go away, right? You’r
e scared you’ll just be the same old Kip, scared you’ll be the Toad again.”
“I am the Toad! I’ll always be the fucking Toad!”
Zak backed up. Kip’s skin frenzied now like boiling water.
“I’m scared of what the doctor will say to me, Zak. What if I was right, huh? What if I’m not human or something.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it? Why? Is it any more ridiculous than my acne spitting out addictive pus? Or my blood acting like some kind of fucking hallucinogen?”
Zak had no answer. Hallucinogen?
“And what if the doctors can’t figure it out? What then? They’ll call in specialists, other doctors, and I’ll turn into one big fucking science experiment. Well fuck that. I’m done with people treating me like I’m less than human. Because I’m not. I’m way more.”
Kip stepped out of the bathroom into the hallway, his skin beginning to calm to a slow, rhythmic pulse. The blood was caked there, drying and flaking off as he moved.
“But, Zak. What happened today…that won’t ever happen again. Okay? I promise.”
Zak had so much he wanted to say, but couldn’t make his mouth move. He just nodded and watched as Kip walked back down the hall toward the attic where he ascended the stairs. Kip didn’t pull the stairs back up behind him, and Zak wondered if Kip wanted him to follow, but there was no way in hell he was going back up there. The room had blood all over the place, discarded clothing, cum and sweat.
Zak had to concentrate to calm his breathing. There were stains on the bathroom wall spotted with Kip’s blood. The spot where his forehead had been resting.
Zak stepped forward, sniffed the blood, eyelids fluttering and chest tingling.
I gotta get the fuck outta here.
He was in his car and heading down the street. No destination in mind, just needed to get the hell away from Kip and that house before he became just like everyone else. He wanted a drink, wanted some pills, wanted a big fat line of coke. But most of all…he wanted Kip. He wanted to taste what everyone else was tasting, experience the high that was driving them all crazy.
No. I can’t…I can’t ever.
He lit a cigarette with shaking fingers and just drove.
—12—
“Chelsea, open this door!” Pound pound pound. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Just leave me alone, Dad! P-please…”
Chelsea stared in the mirror, the flesh on both cheeks torn open by her own fingernails. Similar scratches and gouges decorated her arms and thighs, and even though the pain was awful, she dug her nails in and scratched, scraping away thin strips of meat from her face.
The scratches hurt, but it was nothing compared to the pain within. The pain that begged her for more of the Toad, for more of his pus.
Where the fuck is Chuck!
She didn’t know how long ago he had left for school to find Kip and bring back more for them to share. He said he would be right back…but that son of a bitch never showed. He lied, he lied!
Chelsea screamed, smashed her fist into the mirror and cracked it, ignored the blood now dripping from her knuckles.
“Chelsea! That’s enough, goddamnit. If you don’t open this door in the next five seconds, I’ll bust it down myself! Chelsea!”
“Fuck you, Dad. Fuck you! You don’t understand! You’ll never understand!”
“Chelsea!” Her mother’s voice. “What has gotten into you?”
Tears flowed from her eyes and thinned out the blood oozing from her wounds. She paced back and forth, her footsteps heavy and pounding. Her arms flailed as she knocked over her lamp, her books, her toys, her picture frames.
Chuck’s smiling face stared up at her from the cracked frame just at her feet. A violent burst of sobbing took her then as she fell onto her ass, cradled the photo.
“Where are you, Chuck? You said you’d come back but you lied to me and I hate you but I love you so bad. Oh God…please, Chuck. Please.”
Tap.
It came from the window.
Tap.
Chelsea gasped, jumped to her feet. Her sweatshorts were soaked with blood, and the carpet was spotted with it here and there.
“That’s it, Chelsea. You hear me?” Her dad rattled the handle a few more times before the pounding started. She could hear her mother out there whimpering, trying to calm her father down. A weak fucking cunt, always was.
Chelsea figured he was going to try and break it down, but knew he wouldn’t be able to do it. Not strong enough, too skinny, not like her Chuck, her sweet and beautiful Chuck who had come to her rescue at last. And there was no key to unlock her door either because he had swiped it and had it sitting on her dresser.
But none of that mattered anymore.
“Chuck? Is that you?” She flew to her window, threw it open, peered out. It was still day time, but it wouldn’t be for much longer. The air was cool, felt good on her wounds, and when she saw Chuck’s face smiling up at her, she nearly dove right out of the window to greet him.
He just stared up at her and giggled. His eyes looked bright against the dark red of his face.
Is that blood?
Chelsea quickly wondered if he’d been hurt, but didn’t worry about it long. She needed to know if he had brought anything for her. Needed to know if he kept his promise to her. Because if he didn’t…she would fucking kill him. She would tear his fucking nuts off.
And he just kept laughing.
“Will you hurry the fuck up? I’m dying in here. Please, Chuck!”
“His blood,” Chuck said as he climbed the wooden lattice wrapped in ivy toward her window. “His blood too. It works too. And it feeeeeeeels awesome!”
When he gripped the windowsill, Chelsea grabbed hold of his forearms, ran her blood-caked nails across his flesh, trying to pull him in. He stumbled into the room, landed on top of her. He stank, the smell reminding Chelsea of roadkill and spoiled beef and…and Toad. That’s what it reminded her of. The Toad.
“His blood too.”
Chelsea didn’t waste any time, ran her tongue across Chuck’s face, his chest, his stomach, his cock and balls. Kip’s blood was all over him. It burned, but it burned good. Tasted like fire and orgasm and relief.
“What about the zits? The pus? Did you b…b…”
She wanted to ask about the pus because it’s all she’d been able to think about for what felt like forever and she wanted Chuck to stop fucking around and give it to her already but she couldn’t get the words out as the blood took effect. Chuck’s smiling face looked like it split in half, and a rainbow of colorful light spilled out like liquid crayons.
“The Toad is mine,” Chuck said.
***
She’s trying to take it from me. But…but it’s mine.
After Chuck had left Toad’s house, he was compelled to head to Chelsea’s. Now that he was there, in her room, Chelsea underneath him and licking him clean, he couldn’t remember why he came. He remembered why he left Toad’s room, or rather ran from it. When Toad had shouted, blood squirting from his body in countless different places, Chuck had felt it in his guts, in his chest and head. It wasn’t pain, but pure fear. When he heard Toad’s voice, he just knew to run away, just knew to disobey him was to die. Or worse…be denied any more of him.
And now that he was in Chelsea’s room, someone pounding on her bedroom door and shouting, he realized she was licking Toad’s blood off him. Cleaning him. She cackled now, but wouldn’t stop scraping her tongue over his skin, and when he saw his flesh tone instead of the red and maroon of Toad’s blood, he slapped his palm into her face and tried to push her away but she fought back and outstretched her tongue, wiggled it in circles between his fingers to try and get another taste.
Toad’s blood still swirled through his system, but it didn’t feel the same. He needed more. And it wasn’t until Chelsea started tongue-bathing him that he realized he was covered in it.
“No,” he said and shoved her face harder, but she o
nly pushed back harder in response. “The Toad is mine, you stupid fucking bitch!”
The pounding at the door got louder, so did the shouting. A man. Chuck didn’t have time to worry about who it was or why they wanted in. He thought he heard a woman’s voice too, but couldn’t be sure.
It’s more people trying to take the Toad away from me. But they can’t have him because he’s mine. He’s all fucking mine!
Chelsea squirmed and snickered. Blood oozed out of deep scratches across her cheeks. She licked her lips, eyes wide and dilated. “Where is he, Chuck?” she said through her chortles. “Where is Toad? I need him.”
Chuck still had his hand in her face when she started trying to lick him again, and he pulled the hand away only to replace it with his fist. Knuckles slammed against the bridge of her nose, cracking it, spraying blood over her lips and teeth and she just licked it up, seemed oblivious to her own pain, never stopped laughing.
So he hit her again. This one rocked her head back, and she stopped struggling for a few seconds, just writhed beneath him, her ruined face rocking from side to side. But she still giggled, still asked for another taste.
“You can’t fucking have him!”
More pounding and pounding and screaming from the other side of the door.
Chuck reached out, grabbed something hard and flat just a few feet above Chelsea’s head. He lifted it with both hands, brought it down as hard as he could to make this stupid fucking cunt stop laughing already. So sick of hearing her laugh!
The sound was wet and crunchy when the metal hit her face, and he brought it over his head again, jammed it back down. Then again and again until she finally stopped moving, finally stopped fucking laughing.
Chuck stared at the object in his hand. A picture frame. His face smiling out. His school picture, his football picture. Now splattered with Chelsea’s blood, the glass shattered. He remembered giving her that photo, and for a quick second, he remembered loving this girl, somewhere in the past he loved her.
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