Love Bites

I stand behind garret and watch as Madina holds Seymour’s arm to Kathryn's mouth horrified I turn away and will it all to end. I love her, Madina, but I hate the life she has cursed me with. I will love her and our baby, whatever she may call it, we’ve always been in love since 4th grade I have loved her and she teases me with it. How I hate to love her. I love her too and hate to hate her. How confusing it all is.

Kathryn screams behind me and I turn to see her writhing on the sofa, Madina holding her in her arms. Seymour lies limp on floor blood trickling from his open vein, live for one kill for another. Always good. I glance at garret with tear filled eyes. My thoughts run through my head like young children who've overdosed on sugar. Kathryn, what has she done to Seymour, drinking his blood like he was a common animal.

“Like she could control it fuck whore,” Madina burns through my heart with an angry stare.

She can read thoughts duhh.

Devastated, Garret stumbles over to Seymour, his feet tremble as they walk on the sharp shards of broken dreams, he kneels and takes Seymour in his arms. The first time I see garret cry would have to be when he loses his best friend. I will never be his number one. It will always be Seymour. I strive to think he ever loved me. Madina looks at me with sympathetic eyes and I curse at her with my mind but crave for her in my broken heart.

Walking over I kneel down and rest my hand on Kathryn’s lap while she weeps into Madina’s shoulder. I weave my other free arm and hold her , she rests her head on my shoulder as Kathy weeps.

By now I think she realizes what she is, or she is weeping for Seymour. Madina lightly moves Kathy’s head onto my shoulders gently rubbing her hair and whispering soothing words at her. I am happy to take the burden and rock her gently swaying, like a nettle in the wind. I whistle a tune while silently Kathy sobs and weeps.

One glance at Madina tells me Seymour can be saved. She is already taking Seymour’s arm into her lap and running her nail down his arm to separate his already severed skin. Garret looks on with glassy eyes and a broken heart. He loves Seymour like a brother. I could never compete. He holds his hand and rubs Seymour’s pale skin with delicate fingers, soothing him, though I’m sure he cannot feel it. No blood comes out, it just swells up around the wound, and slowly slips down his arm in a thin line no thicker than a necklace or a shoe lace.

Madina’s eyes give off a deep and dark light, mysterious, but I can see the pain this causes her. She will feel guilty; I don’t want her to, I touch her arm, her thumbnail lingers above Seymour’s wrist, and shivers as I shake my head. Her shoulders sag and down her face a lifetime of tears flows. I take her in my arms as I kneel there with Kathy on shoulder and Madina silently weeping on the other.

Garret looks at me with wild eyes. Taking the burden is something he has never done. He looks at Seymour’s body lying limp and lifeless on the floor. I never noticed until now but his body emits a half-hearted glow, like a dying light bulb it flickers and ebbs. Garret whispers words at him and runs his finger down his open wound. looking at me, his face like a sheet, his eyes like wild fires and his hair askew, there is a look of certainty on his face,

“I could …. Couldn’t I?” he glances to me then to Seymour then back at me and the girls, “I would be stronger than you all wouldn’t I? I just drank and … wouldn’t I?”

Slimy grip loosens on Madina as Kathy Sts up lightly, wiping away at the salty rains that falls from her face, she throws a small nod at garret . her hair falls forward over her face, then retreats back to her shoulders as she looks up at me with sad eyes and whispers in my ear,

“Kathy wants to do it,” I never noticed Kathy’s horrified face until now, her eyes were content and focused on Seymour’s dying state, his rasped breathing and shaking , the last of his blood leaking from his wound. She crawls over on all fours before coming to rest by his side.
As if general instinct took over her and garret open their veins and hold their bleeding wounds over the surface of Seymour’s skin. It falls like rain and burns like acid as it dissolves into his veins.

As they bleed they look at each other, I can tell from their enlightened expressions that this shares their guilt, and shares their love for Seymour looking at each other they smile, and pump their fists to force the blood into Seymour’s body. The drops fall from their arms and down, like stars falling from heaven to land on a barren land; salvation to come a make everything better. Their blood clashes while it falls and combines, static fills the air like blood would line our mouths, our hairs stand on end, when the drop hits his pasty skin it spreads over the cut , runs up his arm and as if sew back together closes the wound. Spreading from his elbow it runs down to his wrist, a bloody needle and thread to pull his life back together. Pulling her arm back Kathy stares in amazement and garret rubs his already healed wound, then turning his arm to face him he rubs the place where the wounds previously lay, like he was rubbing them into his skin he lets out a gasp and takes Kathy into his arms.

We watch Seymour’s chest begin to rise and fall. We sit there huddled in a group for hours while we watch Seymour sleep. Madina lies in my arms watching Seymour. Right now she feels closer to my heart than she has ever felt. My heart forgives her for turning me, my head still has its horrified memories and lingering doubts, but for now they have been pushed to the back of my mind, hidden from the world and forgotten about. Or almost. Kathy now sits with Seymour’s unconscious body lying comfortably in her arms, stroking his hair while occasionally glancing up at the chiming grandfather clock. We all sit, high in ecstasy and large smiles are spread on our faces. We all have each other, were back with the ones we love, where we belong. We are home within ourselves, we've found our selves. Not all ended sour on this horrific night.

No one notices that Garret, who is silent, sits in the corner. Staring blankly through us all with misty eyes, while his fingers fiddle helplessly with a belt loop on his jeans.