July Short Story of the Month

RELAPSE

I tell myself that this is the last one. It… she. Her name was- well, for the life of me I can’t remember. Perhaps I didn’t even get it. Not before I killed her. Thinking back on last night now, I can’t kid myself anymore. It wasn’t for survival. It was for pleasure. And it pleasurable, good God it was. I tell myself, as I do every night, that I have a problem.
Step one is admitting you have a problem.
I came across VA by accident. There’s this guy I know, Marty. Marty is also a vampire, and the owner of a downtown bakery. It would be cool to say I’ve known Marty for centuries. We met when I moved to New York last winter.
You see, vampires have laws. Not like human laws, because we’re more advanced, but laws nonetheless. In vampire law, it is illegal to kill humans. But we do. Or I do, anyway.
Since Marty sees it as his duty to break any law he comes across, I decided he was the man to talk to. He told me he used to have my same problem, but it’s in the past. It’s done now, he says. I ask what happened.
He says he got help.
But what kind of help? What help is out there, for people like us?
A support group. That was the answer he gave me. Flat, direct. Two small words I could but barely comprehend. Support group?
Support group.
I laugh. Why shouldn’t I? This is ridiculous. There’s nothing of the sort, not for vampires. If there were, I’d have heard about it by now.
Secret, he told me. Very seclusive. They don’t want too many people.
I can’t believe they’d have that many takers. How do I get in?
Oh, anybody can walk right in, Marty told me, that’s why it’s so secret.

He gives me directions, but I don’t need them because he told me the location of the place and I know where that is. My car is a piece of shit. It’s from Japan. Amazingly high suicide rate, Japan. People kill themselves over the very realization that someday, they are going to die. Not the case for us.
Group of Goths on the street corner. Word of advice on spotting vampires: anyone you see can be a vampire, except for the people who try to look like vampires. That old bum on the subway may be staring at you for a reason, but these kids aren’t vampires. If they were, they wouldn’t dress like that. Car stops.
Here we are.
This building is an old health and fitness center. My destination’s on the second floor. I glide through the door, move up the stairway. As I move further from the gym, it’s like entering another world. The world of a dirty, old apartment building. There’s a sign in the hallway.
AA- Room 201
NA- Room 203
VA- Room 207

There are voices from 207 as I open the door. A young woman smiles. “Hi,” she says to me. She tells me to come with her. Another door opens. There are people sitting around in rows, one man up front. He tells me to sit down, so I do. I should be at work. Someone stands up to give his introduction.
“Hi,” he says nervously, sweating, “my name is Steve, and I’m an alcoholic.”
Shit. Am I in the wrong room. I look around. We’re all looking at Steve like a pack of rabid wolves. Guess not.
“Room 201, down the hall,” the woman tells Steve, patting him on the shoulder.
Steve looks down, a look of miserable failure. I think about it as the last look he ever has. I look at his pathetic form, I imagine tearing a chunk out of his throat. Poor Steve, bleeding all over the damn place, gasping for air and flopping on the floor. Like a wounded fish. I’d be doing him a favor.
A tall, well dressed man moves to the front of the room. Imposing, this man has a presence. I ask the guy next to me who he is.
“Varney,” he tells me.
Varney smiles and addresses the room. “Is there anyone else with something they’d like to share?”
The guy next to me stands up, a big man, scruffy looking. “Hi, my name is Craig and… and I’m a human killing psychotic sonofabitch vampire.”
Maybe he doesn’t say it exactly like that. Maybe he does.
“Hi, Craig.”
Craig’s been taking his drinks straight from the jugular for the past forty years. Just now, he decides he wants help. Of course, I’ve been doing it longer.
We aren’t supposed to talk about being vampires, but sometimes it just comes out. Also, it’s fun to play with the human mind. So fragile. To you, the reader, it may seem that humans and vampires are not as different as they’re made out to be. Truth is, we’re very different. Humans become vampires through a blood transfusion, and when they do, other side effects may occur. Vampires have great strength, but we’re not allowed to use it. But I do. I use it a lot. It’s thrilling. Why not use it, if it’s a natural gift? What’s the point of being a vampire if all you do is pretend to be human?
Generally, us vampires are more aware of the world around us. The blood transfusion will free one’s mind, the enhanced senses take care of the rest. We see the world for what it really is: pain. Once you’ve realized this, the world becomes a much easier place to live in. Personally, I’d almost prefer ignorance.
They ask me what I do.
I say I kill for a living. They can’t catch me for this, it’s what I do. It’s what we do. Human laws don’t apply.
Another man stands up. “Hi, my name is Deon, and I’m addicted to human blood.” He sounds ashamed, but why else would he be here?
Am I ashamed?
Hi, Deon.
“I see a new face today,” Varney says, still wearing that stupid, smug grin, “let’s hear from him.”
God, why did I agree to come?
I sigh, I stand. “Hi, my name is Richard, and I like to kill people.”
They stare.
“I like it so much,” I continue, “that it’s really all I think about. Dream about too. I feel like I could do it in my sleep. I wouldn’t be surprised if I did. Sometimes I’ll kill and won’t even realize it. It’s reflex. I will pick up a prostitute, tear open her neck, and maybe it won’t even register until she’s flopping around in the back seat of my car. Like a doll.”
They stare, there’s a long, all too awkward silence.
“Hi, Richard.”
I sit back down, smiling on the inside. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all. I’ve heard that in support groups, you’re all supposed to get up and hug each other. Guess they decided it would be better if we didn’t. Vampire blood still has a trace of human in it. It gives almost the same high. Almost. Most would never think about killing another vampire. That would be sick.
I have, personally, never killed another vampire. For food, that is. I am not a criminal. Not an undead hitman. I work for the software company that oversees most human software companies. Globotech. A coworker nicknamed it Hemoglobotech. He thought it was hilarious.
I heard there were plans to clone human blood for vampires. Even then, I know I’d still kill for it. It seems about the same to me as tossing us aborted fetuses. Which isn’t actually a bad idea. The point is, I hate my job.
With the first meeting over, I’m already dreading the second. I didn’t cry. How could I? I didn’t feel. I’m driving home. I didn’t go to work tonight. If I’m going to live forever, why spend it in a cubicle?
Things tend to get crazy around the full moon. We tend to show ourselves more. There are two girls on the sidewalk. Both whores. My mouth is watering already. Sure, I’d rather have a healthy, fit young girl… but they have familes, friends. This is just another dead hooker. I’m not even hungry, but I do it anyway. I smile and tell them to get in the car.
They do. No one resists a vampire’s charm, or maybe I’m just arrogant.
Both girls are dead before I get back to the apartment. Wait. One moved. She flops around in the back. I’m sure she’d be screaming if she could. I would. My hand grabs hold of her without me even directing it to. I tell her to stop squirming, we’re home.
Why do I do this every night?
Human blood just doesn’t keep in the fridge.
It’s a waste.
So am I.

Sunrise comes and I try to sleep, but I can’t. If I jumped out this window, would I burn before I hit the ground?
There’s a meeting tonight. VA, round two.
It goes about the same. They ask me if I’ve killed someone since last week.
I say no.
They ask me if I’m lying.
I say yes.
Why do I come here? I wonder. Why don’t I leave? I tell myself I have a problem. The little voice in the back of my  mind asks me just exactly what that problem is.
I kill people. It’s a problem.
Everything is a matter of opinion, it says. If it is fun for you, then it is not your problem. Clearly, it’s theirs.
Point taken. I stand up.
“Where are you going?” Varney asks, bewildered.
I tell him I’m leaving.
He says that I need help.
I smile, I tell him that everything is a matter of opinion.
“I can help you,” he says, and he truly believes it. They look at me. They need help too. Fine. I sit back down and spend the next two hours wishing I’d left.

Cold turkey. I’ve been without human blood for a month now. I try not to think about it, but I do anyway. Pig’s blood is not nearly as refreshing. I don’t know how people can live off this shit. It’s just a drink. There’s no high. I still go to Vampires Anonymous, but I don’t like it anymore than I ever did. The people there are afraid of me, which makes me somehow proud of myself. It may be the only reason I keep going. Or, maybe the place really is helping me. I really can’t say for sure.
Two days go by. I see a girl walking down the sidewalk,  she’s pretty. She’s human.
No.
I’ve tried not to look,  but I can’t help myself. What about all they’ve taught me? What about Vampires Anonymous?
“Fuck Vampires Anonymous.”
The car swerves onto the sidewalk and knocks the girl down. She’s screaming when I get out.
“Jesus! Oh, God, what the fuck is your problem?”
That’s what I’d like to know. “Shut up!” I scream and bash her head into the pavement. Although I leave an animal size bite in  her throat, they’ll suspect human. Mostly due to the car. Hope it still runs. I throw the girl in the back, she’s spraying the interior. What a waste.
The car runs reasonably well considering I drove it onto a sidewalk. Where am I going? Do I even need to ask?
The car screeches to a stop and I get out and run. Run to the old building. Run through the gym. Run up the stairs to old apartment land. I burst through the door.
The woman looks frightened. “N-next room down,” she whimpers.
This time I burst into VA. Everyone stares. “I fell off the wagon,” I whimper, sobbing not oblivious as to how ridiculous I sound. Blood is pouring out of my mouth as I talk. I speak in a gurgle. “I fell off the wagon,” I repeat, this time it’s a whimper. My eyes are a fiery inferno, I see that in the mirror. Is that me? This is the vampire people have nightmares about.
Varney tells me to clean myself up. Rather unexpectedly, I drive my thumbs into his temples. He screams, he writhes. He dies just like a human. People look terrified. I don’t stop until I’m sure Varney is dead.
Everyone stares.
I’m standing over Varney’s corpse. And that’s all he is now. Not undead, just fucking dead. I’m panting, I’m sweating. And I hear the most unexpected noise.
All around me, they’re beginning to clap.
I smile, drooling blood. Am I the leader now? Should I say something? “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” I growl, and they follow me through the door.
Outside, I convince them it’s over. We should go our separate ways. Kill, don’t kill, in the end the choice is up to them. It always was.  Craig walks up to me, smiling. He tells me I was great in there. I snap his neck.
Maybe I should leave, people talk. Why do I have to leave? They can leave. Jesus, I’m a monster. Well, that is a matter of opinion.
Sirens, I hear them already and I can’t say they’re unexpected. Damn it. Despite the pop culture beliefs, bullets can kill a vampire if they’re aimed right. I run. Stupid cops get out of the car and run after me.
Idiots.
I don’t know where I’m running, and that’s a bad thing. My body takes me to the most familiar place. I end up back at my apartment. Sunrise is coming. The cops are human, thank God, but I’m almost as tired as they are. Sunrise is almost here.
I kick open the door to the apartment. Damn it, I’m panicking.
Sunrise is here. If I jumped out the window, would I burn before I hit the ground?
One way to find out.
I burst through the glass, hearing the echo of gunfire behind me. My skin is crusting, turning black. Never realized the apartment was this high up. Will it happen before I hit the-
Death. All goes black and in the end, I can’t tell if I’m on the ground or still in the air. Story of my life. Damn, that was pointless. Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it’s just what it looked like. Maybe the monster falls and good triumphs over evil.
Or maybe that’s a matter of opinion.