The springs of the old mattress croaked under my weight as I sat cautiously on the bed. Oddly, there wasn’t a speck of dust on any of the surfaces, even though it had been a long time since I had stayed here. The evening sun was streaming through the window and I could feel it heat my cool skin. I closed my eyes and thought back through the last week. My father was right. There was something going on in Chicago, but he was wrong about my involvement. It wasn’t that bad. I knew what I was doing. Or did I?
I lived with a rogue group of immortals in a Chicago brownstone. It was like a fraternity, I guess. We went out a lot, drank frequently, and yes, sometimes things did get out of control like last night, or worse. Three weeks ago, there was an incident in Millennium Park. Chris, the so-called leader, got a little carried away. Two people were attacked and killed in the open, while others stood by. The group took care of most of them, either killing them or convincing them that they didn’t see anything. I didn’t want to kill innocent people, but sometimes it was necessary in order to protect our identity. It was a matter of self-preservation. If I was going to live unexposed, I wanted to continue to live a free life; to do what I wanted and not what someone else told me I should do. Wasn’t that what being an immortal was all about? I had escaped death once, and now I might as well enjoy it. The Chicago incident was all over the news and there was a lot of speculation as to what actually killed those people. Since then, there were whisperings of a serial killer on the loose. Then again, Chicago was a big city and was not immune to random killings. I guess in hindsight, it had been reckless, being out in the open like that. While I didn’t necessarily participate, I did nothing to stop it, either. Now that I was here, back in my former bedroom on the old fox farm in this boring town, I couldn’t wait to get back to the excitement of the city. I felt the ache in my chest again. The one that never seemed to go away. In fact, when I thought about the events of the last few days, the ache increased. Or maybe it was just because I was back here with all the memories.
I glanced around my room at the few artifacts that remained. My bed stood against the wall, providing a view of the lake from the window. A Tiffany lamp sat on the bedside table. The quilt was homemade, a gift from my grandmother many years before. Its tattered ends the only indication of how old it really was. Either my father or my sister had placed two pictures on the oversized bureau; one of my mother sitting in the garden looking out over the lake at the setting sun and one of my sister smiling broadly as she played on the beach. I walked over and gathered them up, throwing them in the top drawer. I hated looking at the reminders, which is precisely why I had left the weathered photos here. I was not that same person anymore.
I threw myself on the bed and folded my arms under my head, turning to get a view of the waves crashing on the shore in the distance. I wondered what my next step should be… how many days should I stay and where should I go next?
I felt a pang in my stomach and knew I needed blood. Finding fresh blood in this small town would be a risk, so I walked back downstairs to the very large kitchen. It hadn’t been used in years, but I could almost smell my mother’s cooking. It was one thing about being human that I missed. While I could still eat, it did nothing for me. It wasn’t the nutrition found in food that the disease needed. My father walked by at that moment, breaking up my thoughts.
“There is human blood in the refrigerator,” he eyed me cautiously from the doorway. “I have a connection at the blood bank and can get an unlimited supply.” I knew this of course; this is what allowed my father and my sister to exist in this human world. They remained civilized and continued to lead a semi-normal human life but still needed human blood to survive. I knew that they would have to find fresh blood from somewhere.
“And how is Cee getting along here?” I leaned on the countertop and casually asked, just to be polite. My sister, Celia, was seven years younger than I was theoretically. Considering we were both immortal, she was actually much older than sixteen, as she appeared.
“Actually, quite well. She has enrolled in high school. She doesn’t really have any friends, but she is enjoying the time she spends there.”
“High school! How could she ever enjoy high school? I mean, hasn’t she had enough already after all of these years?” I poured myself a glass of blood just to appease my father but made a show of turning my nose up at it.
“She’s never finished and she felt that it was high time. We have only been in the open in this town for three years. It has made it much more enjoyable.” My father and sister had moved around a lot to keep suspicions at bay. People would notice if they never aged or if my sister never got married. They had come back here, often for weeks at a time, but had never lived in the open until now.
“Well, alright then. If that’s what makes her happy… maybe I could visit as her guest.” My eyes flashed mischievously for a moment, but my father already knew what was on my mind.
“William, don’t you dare. She is truly happy here for the first time in her new life! You cannot ruin this for her,” his voice yelled icily. He eyed the glass of blood in front of me, knowing that it wouldn’t satisfy my need. My physical need, yes, but it was my mental need that he was concerned about. “I have warned you before. Do not cause trouble here. We don’twant to expose ourselves. You chose your lifestyle when you let the disease decide your life, but you must respect that we have not, and have chosen differently for ourselves.”
“Hey, you asked me to come here, don’t forget,” I reminded him, raising my hands up in mock defeat. “Don’t worry, though. I won’t blow your cover of the loving father and daughter. Besides, I was only joking,” I spat back. “I promise not to do anything while I’m here. Contrary to popular belief, I can control myself.” And I could, though it wasn’t always easy. I would be able to do it for a few days, and a few days was all I needed right now. “Just keep plenty of blood in the refrigerator, and I’ll stay out of sight. I have to feed this disease somehow, don’t I? And if you are so worried, why did you even want me back here anyway?” It was always like this. The back and forth about whose life was better. He wanted me to stay but threatened to kick me out for being me.
My father shrugged and turned to go but stopped abruptly next to me.
“I do wish that you would at least give this,” he gestured around, “a try, for more than just a few days.” His voice was sincere, the previous anger gone as he put his hand on my shoulder.
“You know that I don’t think I would be able to last here for long. I can’t change what I am now. Chicago is a better place for me,” I answered soberly. This was half true. It just seemed that no matter where I was, I still felt hollow inside. Sometimes I wished that it would work for me, but I knew better. Still, the guilt returned… and with it came the confusion. I turned my back to him and gazed out the window at the lake. My body tensed. He didn’t know the nerve he had hit.
“You think I don’t understand, but I do. It’s not the blood; it’s the loss of control.” He knew me better than I thought. My father was always intuitive. “Just please stay out of trouble while you’re here. Celia is a senior in high school and she very much wants to finish.”
“Don’t I always?” I rolled my eyes at him, even though I knew he was right. It would be a struggle. I would find ways around it. A hollow spot deep inside burned at the thought.
My thoughts were interrupted by my sister running at me. She jumped before I realized what she was doing and knocked me down.
“Will! I knew you would come. Oh, please tell me that you will stay a while. It feels like forever since I have seen you!”
“Considering our immortality, forever is possible,” I joked back. “I’ll be here for at least a few days.” I sprang to my feet and planted a kiss on top of her head. I was a good six inches taller than she was. Other than a slight similarity, she was my opposite. Her blond hair hung in curls past her shoulders, a stark contrast to my own dark waves. Her features were perfect; wide blue-grey eyes, defined cheekbon
es, and full, red lips. Despite her pale skin, she was stunning. She may not agree, but being immortal agreed with her. The change had made her hauntingly beautiful.
My sister was one of the only things I truly missed about my life before I was infected. We had been close before the accident, and while we had remained in contact, we had hardly spoken in recent years, most of our conversations taking place through email or text messages. The longer I stayed away from here, the more I found myself pulling away for good. But now that I was with her again, it was easier to let my guard down a little.
“So, tell me about your latest stint in high school. Are you finally getting good grades?” I nudged her a little, and it was enough to get her to talk. Apparently, she was really enjoying being in high school. She was adjusting to life in the open. Her eyes sparkled as she talked about it. She looked radiant, and I could tell that she was happy. I was surprised at how happy it made me, that she had found some peace after all these years. I thought about my own inner turmoil and shuddered. Maybe being at home was better than I thought.
She dragged me back out to the living room and plopped down on the sofa, dragging me with her. I sighed, and looked around as she continued talking. The house never changed. My mother’s touches were everywhere, and it was clear my father was still feeling her loss as well, even after all of these years. Then again, the house was just like us; it never aged. It would always be here. A timeless refuge.
After a while, my father came to join us, and we sat around the fire, talking late into the evening. I had to admit, it felt good for a while. When we weren’t trying to best each other, conversation with my father was easy. Celia told me more about her latest exploits in high school, her attempts to fit in, and the occasional human who would actually talk to her. She was a favorite among the teachers, but apparently, most of the students were terrified of her. I shifted in my chair, and then shifted again, my eyes darting to the clock. Clearly, I was reaching my fill of family time. The sun had set and the moon had risen, giving way to the evening. I stood up to stretch, my muscles aching from the inactivity.
“I think I need to go out for a walk and get a breath of fresh air.”
My father raised an eyebrow at me cautiously. Yes, I was restless. Being back here had awakened something in me. A need perhaps, or something else… I just didn’t know what. I was aware of my father’s rules. I would stay in the shadows and out of trouble. I truly just needed some fresh air and time to think.
“Don’t worry, I gave you my promise. I’m just not used to being stuck in a building at night. I need some fresh air,” I reminded him. “Don’t wait up.” There was no immediate response and I didn’t wait for one as I slipped from the house before he could argue or try to get Celia to join me.
Immortals do still need sleep. Perhaps not as long as humans, but there was still a basic need to close our eyes and rest. Sometimes, though, I slept out of boredom. When you had forever, sleeping a day away meant absolutely nothing. In fact, in Chicago, I was known to sleep through the daytime hours and go out only at night. This immortality is a disease. We aren’t vampires, although with the need for blood and sleeping habits such as ours, this may be where some of the myths had begun.
Outside, the moon was full and light cascaded down the otherwise unlit road. I loved the night. I could see quite clearly through the dark curtain before me, once my eyes adjusted. I walked quickly at first, feeling the cool breeze on my sensitive skin, tasting and smelling the air around me to get my bearings in this neighborhood. All the while, my mind was busy sorting out the memories that were emerging with every step I took, in the places that used to be my family farm.
It was a small neighborhood, shaped in an L and consisting of about fifteen houses. Our house stood back from the road where it looked down at a cul-de-sac. When my father sold the property off, he sold some of the existing outbuildings as well. I could see that many of them were still standing. What once housed the foxes, now stored garden hoses and wheelbarrows or the occasional car. They looked out of place next to the newer houses. I crept around the old barns, taking in their scent and trying to remember how things used to be. The neighborhood was quiet, with only the sound of crickets accompanying me on my self-guided tour.
The air only slightly calmed my nerves. I couldn’t seem to shake my restlessness no matter how much I walked. I was about ready to give up and head back home, when I caught the scent of something unusual. The metallic scent of blood filled the air around me and it made me wonder if I wasn’t alone. Sadness and despair seemed to drape around me in a thick blanket. The disease loved all blood, but seemed to be most attracted to the blood of those who felt sad and desperate. I guess it didn’t make me as heartless as everyone thought. I chose to fill my need from those who were void of hope, perhaps a reflection of who I was.
The fragrance was unusually strong, and again I wondered if someone was lurking about. A quick glance around revealed nothing and I felt assured that I was alone. I passed by the old slaughter house, which now served as an outdoor shed and I wondered if I wasn’t picking up on the old blood that at one time had soaked through the floor and into the surrounding soil. But that blood was old, and after passing the slaughter house, the scent was still there. My promise to my father lingered in my mind, but suddenly I needed to know where the scent was coming from. I continued to the end of the cul-de-sac anyway, telling myself the whole time that if it were someone, I wasn’t going to do anything. I simply wanted to see what was drawing me in. Could I really stop myself?
It was dark, other than a solitary light coming from the front window of a house to my left. The light spilled out into the blackness of the front lawn. Puzzled, I crept closer to the window, wondering if this was the source of my intrigue. I had to see what or who it was, unsure of what I would do next. I was sure of one thing; I had never experienced a need this strong before. Slowly, I peered in the window and that’s when I saw her. A girl was sitting on a bench, her auburn hair cascading over her shoulders in beautiful waves, accentuating an oval face. She squinted closely at something, which wrinkled her brow. My eyes followed her slender hand, as she raised it up to grab the chewed-up pencil from her mouth. She wrote something quickly and placed the pencil back between her full lips, cocking her head slightly. I had never seen anything or anyone I wanted more. The sadness I had sensed disappeared, and instead, I was filled with pure happiness. It was like the scent of fresh grass after a rainstorm, or an open field of lavender, or fresh cut roses. It was clearly coming from the girl, who seemed to be everything all in one.
That’s when the most fascinating sounds came from her fingertips. I had been so distracted that I didn’t even notice that she was sitting at a piano. Long-fingered hands flew over the keys in perfect arches. They pressed down delicately on the ivory, her thin wrists arching gracefully. And then the melody. The music vibrated through my skin, through my bones, and deep into the emptiness that was once my soul. In my hundred plus years, I had never seen or heard anything this perfect. It was as if she was playing just for me. I felt the notes radiating into the hollow spot in my chest, and there was no longer any trace of the despair that had drawn me to her. The need I had felt all these years was gone, and my body was filled with something new.
I staggered from the window, my back slamming against a nearby tree, confused by this turn of events. How could I have been so drawn to this one person? I had felt the darkness moments earlier, but then when the music started, there was passion unlike anything I had ever experienced. She fascinated me. I knew that I would not hurt her. Could not hurt her. How could I harm someone so captivating?
My confusion was strong and I forgot who or where I was for a moment. I got clumsy and stepped on a twig outside her window. She looked up, peering out into the darkness just as I melted into the shadows, hoping that she hadn’t seen me. She walked close to the window, peering out into the night. Only then could I see her eyes. They were a bright jade green, edged with a rich caramel an
d they were peering into my soul. I was startled by what I saw. There was turmoil and sadness hidden deep, but there was also something different. I didn’t have time to figure it out before she turned from the window, turned off the light, and disappeared in the dark house.
Staring at the empty window for a moment, I registered the encounter in my mind, realizing this girl had left me shaken. I could still hear the melody long after she had stopped playing and the air was still redolent. It was at that moment I felt that maybe there was another need that existed within me. A need for more than just blood. I knew I needed her. Somehow, it was as if my empty soul depended on it. I turned and glared out into the night, more restless than before. With confusion mounting, I did the only thing I knew to do. I ran.
“Where have you been all night?” my father asked accusingly, as I was quietly closing the door. So much for sneaking back in. “Did you go into town? Did anything happen? I knew I should have made your sister go with you.”
His tone implied that he didn’t think that I was actually keeping my promise. No, I had not done anything that stupid, although it had been almost dawn when I returned. My mind had been shaken, and I had stayed out all night walking, just trying to make sense of it all. After I left the girl’s house, the pain and the need for blood returned, as did the confusion which fought with the new aching sensation I felt, frustrating me even more. How quickly I had gone from the numbness I felt in Chicago to the turbulence that engulfed me here.
“No,” I sneered, irritated. I was quick to anger when my father accused me in this way. “I was just out.” My temper felt shorter than usual, and it bothered me that my father seemed unaware that my mind was a blur right now.
A Sadness Within Page 2