‹ Prequel: What You Deserve
Forever, Your Dearest
Home
After a short while had passed, I shifted, pulling my eyes away from the note as I made the way back to the house that held so many memories for me from such a short amount of time.
The scent of the locket and note led me slowly back to their house, where their cool, soothing scents flared in my nose, almost seeming to be too much to bear. In the back of my mind, I could feel their movements during the past throughout the room.
Frank walking through the door on a coffee high; Mikey wandering the hallways; Bob laying on the ground by some odd-scented pet; Ray laying outstretched on the floor; Gerard walking in with a strong-odored cigarette hanging on the edge of his lip, hands in his pockets while giving a crooked smile to his friends. They were like a family.
I suppose, in a way, they were family.
Was I part of the family as well? Or was I just a mistake?
I didn't want to know the truth.
A few seconds passed before another scent fluttered through the air. It held a metallic smell that was abnormally tempting.
My body slowly swept across the floor, walking through Frankie and side-stepping Gerard. I soon found myself standing in front of a door that seemed to lead to what would be assumed as a laundry room. As I opened the door, I realized I was wrong.
A large refrigerator stood in the back of the room, while there were two chairs positioned a short distance from the cooler. It was not tightly sealed, it seemed, otherwise the scent wouldn't seem to overflow from every inch of the large, stainless steel object.
Pulling the door open, I realized what the scent was. I could feel my body violently twitch in response to the contents. The smell seemed to crash through the air as if it were a wave, covering everything around it. Yet again, I felt myself twitch violently, panic sweeping over me.
My body began shaking wildly, taking a large amount of effort not to dive into the cooler. With such a trance, I barely noticed the temperature seeming warmer than it was around me - regardless of the fact that it was indeed a cooler.
Shakily, I forced my hand to rise, lightly grabbing one of the bag-like containers. My mind began racing. I couldn't think.
What was I doing? Was I doing something wrong? This smelt so good. I needed it. I wanted it. I was going to have it. There was so much! How would I ever manage to save any of it? How long would it take to finish? Could I try to finish it in a few seconds? What did it taste like now? Did it taste good? Was it like a drug? I needed it. Would I be able to satisfy myself with only one container? Could I control myself? I really wanted it. Would I be able to stop? What if it made me insane? The little package alone might drive me insane. The smell. Oh, god, the smell. It was so strong. So tempting. How could someone ever resist it? Is this a terrible thing? Am I going to end up killing someone for something better? Should I heat it up?
No.
No, there wasn't time for that.
I wanted it now.
If I didn't get it now, I would go crazy.
The second it got near my face, it was as though my brain had ceased function, and I quickly and harshly bit into the bag, draining the red liquid out of it. My body twitched as I felt a new, warming feeling fill my body. Something so unusual. Even the strongest of drugs that I had taken in the past was no comparison to this.
But there was no high after it. There was only the urge for more. The addiction that screamed that you couldn't leave until you couldn't handle any more.
For me, that was about ten pints worth.
After ceasing this, I looked at the bags, and shivered. Something in my mind told me to get more, but I stopped myself.
"Oh... Oh..." I could hear my voice quivering, as I remembered something from in school. If I had found a person on my way home instead, I would have killed them. I would have drained every ounce of blood in their frail bodies. And judging by the feeling in my stomach, I would still be able to state that I wanted more.
"What... what am I going to do?" I wrapped my arms tightly, using my hands to hold them close. "Frankie..." I whimpered, feeling panic rising again, "Frankie, how am I going to handle this? Frankie? Please, please Frankie..."
My body began jerking in a shivering manner, as I looked around the small room wildly. "I need your help, Frankie. I... I can't do this on my own..." I whispered lowly, staring at the cooler, which still had the door wide open.
Finally, a paper seemed to stand out on the inside of the door. I pried my hands off of my arms to grab it, and read it quietly, feeling my body twitch every few seconds from the urge to return to the contents of the cooler.
Reading it, I realized it was a contact list. The first name on the list:
Rosi Kirsteen
I shifted, pushing the contacts into a pocket after reading off the phone number on the paper. Shivering, I realized that my only hope of surviving - and finding Frank and the others - may lie in the list of contacts that they possessed.
The scent of the locket and note led me slowly back to their house, where their cool, soothing scents flared in my nose, almost seeming to be too much to bear. In the back of my mind, I could feel their movements during the past throughout the room.
Frank walking through the door on a coffee high; Mikey wandering the hallways; Bob laying on the ground by some odd-scented pet; Ray laying outstretched on the floor; Gerard walking in with a strong-odored cigarette hanging on the edge of his lip, hands in his pockets while giving a crooked smile to his friends. They were like a family.
I suppose, in a way, they were family.
Was I part of the family as well? Or was I just a mistake?
I didn't want to know the truth.
A few seconds passed before another scent fluttered through the air. It held a metallic smell that was abnormally tempting.
My body slowly swept across the floor, walking through Frankie and side-stepping Gerard. I soon found myself standing in front of a door that seemed to lead to what would be assumed as a laundry room. As I opened the door, I realized I was wrong.
A large refrigerator stood in the back of the room, while there were two chairs positioned a short distance from the cooler. It was not tightly sealed, it seemed, otherwise the scent wouldn't seem to overflow from every inch of the large, stainless steel object.
Pulling the door open, I realized what the scent was. I could feel my body violently twitch in response to the contents. The smell seemed to crash through the air as if it were a wave, covering everything around it. Yet again, I felt myself twitch violently, panic sweeping over me.
My body began shaking wildly, taking a large amount of effort not to dive into the cooler. With such a trance, I barely noticed the temperature seeming warmer than it was around me - regardless of the fact that it was indeed a cooler.
Shakily, I forced my hand to rise, lightly grabbing one of the bag-like containers. My mind began racing. I couldn't think.
What was I doing? Was I doing something wrong? This smelt so good. I needed it. I wanted it. I was going to have it. There was so much! How would I ever manage to save any of it? How long would it take to finish? Could I try to finish it in a few seconds? What did it taste like now? Did it taste good? Was it like a drug? I needed it. Would I be able to satisfy myself with only one container? Could I control myself? I really wanted it. Would I be able to stop? What if it made me insane? The little package alone might drive me insane. The smell. Oh, god, the smell. It was so strong. So tempting. How could someone ever resist it? Is this a terrible thing? Am I going to end up killing someone for something better? Should I heat it up?
No.
No, there wasn't time for that.
I wanted it now.
If I didn't get it now, I would go crazy.
The second it got near my face, it was as though my brain had ceased function, and I quickly and harshly bit into the bag, draining the red liquid out of it. My body twitched as I felt a new, warming feeling fill my body. Something so unusual. Even the strongest of drugs that I had taken in the past was no comparison to this.
But there was no high after it. There was only the urge for more. The addiction that screamed that you couldn't leave until you couldn't handle any more.
For me, that was about ten pints worth.
After ceasing this, I looked at the bags, and shivered. Something in my mind told me to get more, but I stopped myself.
"Oh... Oh..." I could hear my voice quivering, as I remembered something from in school. If I had found a person on my way home instead, I would have killed them. I would have drained every ounce of blood in their frail bodies. And judging by the feeling in my stomach, I would still be able to state that I wanted more.
"What... what am I going to do?" I wrapped my arms tightly, using my hands to hold them close. "Frankie..." I whimpered, feeling panic rising again, "Frankie, how am I going to handle this? Frankie? Please, please Frankie..."
My body began jerking in a shivering manner, as I looked around the small room wildly. "I need your help, Frankie. I... I can't do this on my own..." I whispered lowly, staring at the cooler, which still had the door wide open.
Finally, a paper seemed to stand out on the inside of the door. I pried my hands off of my arms to grab it, and read it quietly, feeling my body twitch every few seconds from the urge to return to the contents of the cooler.
Reading it, I realized it was a contact list. The first name on the list:
Rosi Kirsteen
I shifted, pushing the contacts into a pocket after reading off the phone number on the paper. Shivering, I realized that my only hope of surviving - and finding Frank and the others - may lie in the list of contacts that they possessed.