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    Yeoldebard
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Simon's Struggles - 5. Bite Me

Simon dropped the purse next to the woman, his eyes staring Tristan down.

“You’re bleeding…”

He shrugged at the woman’s concern. It wasn’t his blood, but he couldn’t really tell her that.

“He put up a bit of a fight, but I got it back,” he said.

“Are you going to be okay?” Tristan asked the human.

She nodded, clutching her purse like a piece of driftwood in the middle of an ocean.

“You should head home. And be careful where you walk.”

Simon could hear the change in Tristan’s voice, feel a taste of the power behind it, subtly weaving through the suggestion. The human nodded before hurrying away.

Tristan pulled out the spare shirt, handing it to Simon. Simon changed his shirt, relieved to be out of the bloody shirt.

“Did he give you any trouble?”

“He had a knife,” Simon shrugged.

He didn’t really want to talk about the murder of another person. Christopher’s blood was on his hands and Simon wasn’t sure he could deal with that.

Tristan placed a comforting arm around the vampire.

“Come on, let’s get back to the house. You look like you could use a shower.”

 

The water felt amazing on his skin, running down Simon’s body in a warm spray. He pretended it could wash away his actions, wash away the blood of the man he had murdered in cold blood. But he knew it wouldn’t. It couldn’t. He would carry this stain forever.

Suddenly the shower wasn’t enough. He shut off the water, towelling off quickly. The vampire dressed, catching his reflection in the mirror. His eyes bore a haunted look, his face revealing a mental exhaustion Tristan assured him would fade after a month or two. Eventually, he would just be too exhausted to go on, but his body would be unable to sleep, and at that point, his brain would begin to adjust to a life of eternal wakefullness.

The vampire left the bathroom, passing Tristan seated at the kitchen table.

“I’m leaving,” he said.

“Okay. Try to be under shelter by dawn. Sunburns still hurt,” Tristan said.

And just like that Simon was outside.

He stood on the porch, at a loss for where to go. Finally, he directed his feet to the ocean, deciding to take a midnight walk along the beach. Maybe it would clear his head.

Simon jogged down the road, his body feeling more alive than it had in a while. The realisation made him laugh bitterly as he ran. He had to die to truly be alive.

His feet slapped down the wooden steps to the beach, the vampire slowing to a walk. Simon’s legs burned after running nearly twenty blocks nonstop, but the pain centred him. He felt like he deserved the pain after his actions earlier that night. It was cathartic, a sweet burning that filled him from ankle to thigh.

The vampire limped slightly across the sand until he was walking against the waves. A large mound lay on the sand up the beach and Simon set his feet walking toward the dark shape.

The scent of blood filled the air again and Simon groaned. He’d had enough of the red liquid to last him a lifetime. As he neared the shape, the vampire frowned.

It was a shark, bleeding from what looked like a gash in the stomach caused by a rock. The injury didn’t seem too severe and Simon decided to save the creature if he could.

The vampire dug his hands into the sand, pushing under the shark. He tried to lift the creature gently, hoping that his new life came with some sort of super-strength.

To his dismay, that didn’t seem to be the case. He couldn’t lift the shark, but he was able to slide it an inch toward the water. His hands cut through the sand, touching the animal, and a rush of energy passed into him.

Simon yelped, snatching his hands out of the sand. He felt strange, the emotional pain of the evening somehow pushing to the front of his mind, even with the current crisis.

Shaking his head, the vampire set his hands on the shark again, ready to push once more. Like an electric charge, energy passed through him again, and he felt the emotional trauma of his past beating against his mind. Dimly, Simon realized there was less blood flowing from the shark, and he pulled away again.

Somehow he was healing the shark’s injuries, taking them into himself as emotional scars.

“What the fuck Tristan?” he snapped, tears flowing. “A little warning would have been nice.”

He sat down in the sand, staring at the shark. Trembling from the weight of his trials, he started wondering if this was worth it. It was just a shark. But as he looked into the lidless eyes of the animal, Simon knew he had to do this. Whatever this was.

Rolling onto his knees, Simon placed a hand on the shark’s nose. The transfer of wounds began almost instantly, and Simon tried to slow the rush, control it. He felt like he was trying to dam the Mississippi river, but slowly he realized it was working. And suddenly, the strange flow shut off.

Simon fell back, his body sore and his mind reeling as Sarah left him once more. Standing, the vampire pushed against the shark with all his strength, the fish sliding across the sand. Water lapped over his shoes and he pushed again as the animal began thrashing in the liquid.

With one final shove, Simon heaved the shark back into water deep enough for the creature to swim in. He fell as the shark spun, landing in the ocean where he just lay. This was good. He would just lay here and drown.

A couple of minutes later, he remembered. He was a vampire who didn’t need to breathe.

“Fuck my life,” Simon gurgled under the water.

 

He stepped into the house dripping wet, sand sloshing out of his shoes. His eyes were distant, barely noticing Tristan staring at him from the kitchen table.

Trudging up the stairs, the vampire entered his room, blearily pulling off his clothes. He fell onto the bed, his eyes closing. Simon was exhausted, but sleep would not come and without sleep, he couldn’t let go of the night’s events.

“I would appreciate it if you helped keep the house clean.”

Tristan entered the room, taking in the sight of Simon lying naked on the bed. Simon was too emotionally drained to get upset at the man for entering without warning.

“Come on, sit up.”

Tristan sat on the edge of the bed, urging Simon to get up. The vampire finally listened, sitting up.

“Look, I know this is hard for you. It’s definitely going to take some adjusting to. But I’m here for you. If you ever need to talk I’ll listen. And any time you need a drink, I’ll be by your side.”

“Why didn’t you warn me about the healing?”

Tristan frowned at Simon.

“Healing? What healing?”

“I healed a beached shark. But now I can feel its trauma inside me.”

“I can’t do that…”

“I hate myself,” Simon muttered. “I stole a life to prolong my own existence. I am a monster.”

“You saved a shark from death,” Tristan added. “I don’t know how you did it, but you did.”

“It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.”

“Well, I hope eventually you can look at your life a different way. You still have 25 days to decide.”

“I can’t hold on that long… I’m sorry Tristan, I’m trying.”

Tristan wrapped his arms around Simon, Simon rested his head on the vampire’s shoulder.

“All anyone can ask is that you try. By doing that, you are doing enough.”

 

The vampire knelt on the floor, scrubbing away his mess with a sigh. His eyes kept blinking, his mouth yawning compulsively, yet his brain forced him to stay awake. How could he handle the trauma of the evening when he couldn’t even sleep?

“Hey, not to pile on any more stress, but you have to be at work in five hours,” Tristan said, walking past.

“Well fuck me,” Simon muttered.

Tristan shrugged.

“If you insist, but I don’t think you really want that yet.”

Simon stood up, spinning to face Tristan.

“You destroyed my life,” he yelled furiously, nearly slipping on the wet floor.

“Really? From where I was standing, it looked like I was saving your life,” Tristan calmly observed. “You’re immortal. Make a mistake, just wait a few decades and try again. I gave you a chance at life. I did not destroy it.”

“You took away my choice! You made me into a bloodsucking fiend!”

“And that just pisses you off. So what are you going to do about it? Kill me? I’d like to see you try,” Tristan scoffed.

“Why couldn’t you just let me die?! This is no way to live!”

“Wrong. Once you get over the inability to sleep, this is a pretty damn good way to live. You just refuse to see it that way right now.”

“And how do you get over the murdering? How do you justify killing someone? It’s okay because it keeps you alive? This is such bullshit!”

“I hunt down the bad apples,” Tristan shrugged. “When I can’t find any, rats do the trick, but it’s a little hard to fill up on those.”

“How the fuck are you so nonchalant about this shit?”

Tristan chuckled.

“Are you sure you failed at school? These are some pretty big words you keep throwing about,” he said.

“Bite me,” Simon growled.

Suddenly Tristan was at his throat, fangs brushing against his neck. Simon gulped. The older vampire moved so fast…

“I can feel your fear,” Tristan breathed. “Your heart pounding, your breath quickening. You need to relax dude.”

He stepped back, releasing Simon. The vampire slipped in the water on the floor, falling on his back where he just lay, staring at Tristan.

“Come on, I want to show you something,” Tristan said, walking toward the door.

Standing shakily, Simon hesitated, his eyes following the vampire.

“Hurry up!” Tristan called.

His legs moved seemingly of their own accord, chasing after Tristan.

Copyright © 2019 Yeoldebard; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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