The Art of Being a Vampire, page 7
I nodded.
“I said it,”
I agreed,
my voice cold.
Brandt sniffed,
like he’d been
proven right.
“Yeah. So.
There ya go.
That’s why I bit ya.”
I stared at him.
I heard his words
and knew he’d let slip
something
that I wasn’t
meant to know.
“You bit me.
Not
Sid.”
I wanted it
to be
real clear.
“What’s it matter?”
Brandt asked,
turning away.
“It matters,
cause you
told me
a story
’bout Sid.
But now I think
it was
YOU
had to be
hit over the head
to keep from
bleeding me dry.”
I yelled the words
at his back.
Brandt whirled round
once more,
coming back at me.
“You don’t wanna
go to Alaska?
Fine.
I’m leaving
in the morning.
With or
without you.”
I imagined this life
in Alaska.
Forever
with Brandt (and moose).
I imagined us
roaming the world
trying to
outrace
our hunger.
And failing.
Again
and
again
and
again.
And then I knew
what I had to do.
The Only Way to Set Brandt Free
While he
was asleep,
I put
my fangs
into
his neck.
In the
same spot
as before.
But this
time,
he wasn’t
holding
me back.
He woke,
while I
drank.
And his
eyes
stared at
me.
I expected
him
to struggle.
But instead,
he sorta
smiled.
“Knew
you . . .
were—
the one.”
Those were his
last words.
And Then Brandt Died
And I kept
on
drinking
till he
was empty.
I carried
his body,
so light—just bones.
Left him at the
back door
to Sid and Tallie’s.
I knew Sid and Tallie
would be asleep now.
I saw a junkie in the window.
Held up a lighter.
Mouthed, “Get the others out, now.”
She listened,
and three of the others
ran out of the door, too.
Maybe toward
some new start.
Maybe no one
is too far gone
long as they still got
some life in ’em.
Let It Burn
Then I
poured
lighter fluid
I’d shoplifted
from the
minimart.
Set Brandt’s bones
and
that ugly
wicked house
on fire.
I took
a picture
of the house
as the
flames
stretched
toward
the
early
morning
sky.
I called it:
(Two Wrongs) Trying to Make It Right.
I Considered
walking into
the flames
myself.
But I couldn’t
make myself
do it.
Maybe I just knew
I wasn’t too far gone.
There was some part of me
worth saving.
Maybe,
just maybe,
there was
still
something good
I was
meant
to do.
Brandt’s Cousin, Finn
had given
me an idea.
And it grew
into a
thought.
And that thought
wouldn’t
go away.
For the first time
in a long time,
all I really wanted
was to be
alive.
I Broke into Aunt Clara’s
Well, I used
my key.
I was relieved
it still worked.
She hadn’t
changed the locks
on me.
Not even after everything.
I’d made sure
to wait
until after
I’d seen
Aunt Clara
leave for work.
So the place
was empty.
Everything
in the room
Clara had
given me
was the same
as I’d left it.
Quickly,
I packed
clothes
into a bag.
Then I reached
under the bed
for the box
with Mama’s
ashes.
It’d been
her wish
to have ’em
spread
somewhere pretty.
I’d been
too mad
at her
to do it before.
But now
I was at last
ready to
lay Mama
to rest.
After all I’d
been through,
all my
cravings,
I understood
her in some
sorta way.
She’d done
the best
she could
by me.
And even if
it wasn’t
enough,
well,
it was
better than
nothing.
The Photo Was There, Too
The one
I’d called
Fear the Future.
At the time,
I’d meant it
to be some
sorta warning
to Mama’s
younger self.
But I know
I was
mostly
thinking
of myself.
Of my
future.
Of my
fear.
But I
didn’t
fear the future.
Or not that
much.
Not anymore.
I’d already hit
the deepest
rock bottom,
where there
was almost
no light
to be found.
But maybe
cause of
all those
years of
photography,
I’d gotten
good at
finding
the light.
Now like
the aperture
on my camera,
I just hadta
open myself up
and let
all that
light
get in.
Hope Was Odd
The sorta feeling
that I worried
would go away
just as quick
as the bubbles
in a glass
of soda.
Maybe that’s
why I moved
quick.
Wanting
to finish
the plan
while I was
still fizzin’
with faith
and hope
and courage.
I Called Aunt Clara
“I’m home.”
The word
felt strange
in my
mouth.
But Grams
always said
to begin
as you mean
to go on.
On her end
of the phone,
Aunt Clara
started
to cry.
Which
at first
I thought
was her
upset
that I was
in her house.
But then
she said,
“Thank God.
I thought you were
dead.”
And she
cried
even harder.
When she
got herself
under control,
she told me
she was
already
on her
way
home.
She asked me
please
to wait
for her.
Somehow,
that please
almost
undid me.
I Stayed
Even though it
was hard.
I nearly
walked out
more than
once
only to
turn back
again.
Finally,
she came
rushing in.
Tears still
running
down her
face.
She wanted
to hug me.
But I put a
hand out,
stopping her.
“I can’t,”
I said. “I’m all
messed up.”
To my shock,
she nodded.
Like she
understood.
“What can
I do?”
she said.
“How can
I help?”
This then
was the
true
test.
Was I my
bad blood?
Was I
doomed
to be
my mama?
Or could I
imagine
myself
in a picture
where I
was not
broken up
into pieces?
Could I see
myself as
whole?
“I Wanna Go to Rehab.”
I heard
myself
say the
words.
It didn’t
feel real.
Or like
enough.
So I
said ’em
again.
Aunt Clara
was already
nodding
her head.
That’s when I
fell to
my knees
and at last
let myself
cry.
Nobody Believed
I was a
V-word
or that
I was addicted
to blood.
They thought
the fangs
were some
kinda
tooth decay.
And that
my need
to be away
from people
was shame
or something
like that.
I didn’t
tell ’em
they were wrong.
Sometimes,
I even thought
that maybe
I was just
a junkie
like Mama.
And all
the rest
of it
was just me
trying to
be something
special.
Eventually,
after weeks of
withdrawal—
and the kinda torture
that Grams always
said was meant
to be saved for those
that burn in hell—
my fangs started
to go away.
Forever was over,
which left me
hanging on
from minute to minute.
But I kept
letting the
light in.
And I kept on
believing
the pain was
worth it.
And I kept on
believing
I was
worth it.
But Even Then
I’d catch
the scent
of blood.
Or see
the blue veins
in someone’s
wrist.
And the
hunger
would
rise
once
more.
That’s when
I knew.
Some of
the dark
would always
be with me.
I Fought Through It
with
the help of
Aunt Clara.
And oddly,
Brandt’s cousin,
Finn.
I wrote
him a letter
from rehab.
Just saying
I was
a friend
of Brandt’s.
Trying to get clean.
And to
my surprise,
he came
to visit me.
I told him
everything.
My full
confession.
His face went
all wrong
when I told
him how
I’d ended
Brandt.
But he
didn’t hate me
for it.
Instead,
he said
I did what he
couldn’t.
That all I’d done
was end Brandt’s curse.
And save so many lives.
And then
he asked for me
to
forgive
him.
I almost laughed.
No one had ever
asked me that before.
I guess life
could
sometimes
be funny
in a
haha way
that
wasn’t
just plain mean.
I Started Using the Fancy Camera
from Aunt Clara.
Instead of
visiting
a darkroom, I took
digital photos.
Learned
how to edit
them on a
computer, too.
It was different,
but even so,
there was
still
the same
old magic
in it.
And I was
better at it,
too.
I didn’t
focus
on just
the ugly
or just
the
beautiful.
I found a
middle ground.
And I
stopped
making
my camera
lens
a wall between
me and
the rest of
the world.
Instead it was
a bridge,
a connection,
to the
human experience.
With every
click of
the shutter,
I now try
to reach
your heart.
And
at the
same time,
to give up
a piece
of
my own.
That you
might
hold it.
That you
might
know it,
and
in doing so
see what
I see,
which is—
me in you
and
you in me.
And
all of us
just trying to
make it over
around
and
through
to that
bright
dawn
light
that only comes
after the
darkest
of nights.
WANT TO KEEP READING?
If you liked this book, check out another
book from West 44 Books:
THE REAL UNREAL
BY RYAN WOLF
ISBN: 9781978596689
Bright
spirals
screaming.
NEW WORLD ORDER SCUM
shouts across
the brick
in a sharp yellow.
FREEDOM WINS
waves beside it,
a proud blue.
WE WILL NOT OBEY
has a
grim green grin.
And
in the bloodiest
drips
of hot red,
it reads:
ALL
YOU
DEVILS
WILL BE
JUDGED
The graffiti
is flung
everywhere.
Spat
on each side
of the building.
Sneering from
the limestone walls.
Bits of
broken glass
litter
the ground.
Sprinkled
over
the sidewalk
like shiny
balls of hail.
What is left
of the windows
looks like
a thousand
tiny
teeth.
There are small gleams
of color
among the shards.
The stained glass
was over
a hundred years old.
But
what
does
it
matter?
Whoever did this
didn’t care.
The vandals even
knocked
the nose
off
one of the
gargoyles.
I don’t know how
they reached
