Page 21 of Killer of the Bells
I sat up from my makeshift bed on the couch and rubbed my throat at the thought. My neck twinged, and I realized why my head was killing me.
I should have had Vale ask Gareth to bring me a bottle of coconut water with my dinner.
Wait… How did I get on my couch? Did I pass out from blood loss? Did that asshole just ditch me and bail?
Talk about dine and dash.
Um… that had been real, right? I didn’t just dream it all up out of sheer loneliness and depression? The memories did seem oddly cloudy, though it could have been from blood loss.
I jumped up and swayed dangerously, but I kept going, holding myself up on random furniture as I crashed my way to my bathroom mirror to look at my neck.
I’m a man of action. There’s no reason to sit around and wonder about shit if you don’t know if you’ll still be around tomorrow.
I slammed my shoulder into the half-open bathroom door, and it bounced off the wall, slamming back into me in retaliation.
I wasn’t paying attention because I was spellbound by what I saw in the mirror.
There was a perfect imprint of human teeth on my neck. It wasn’t all ripped up and grisly as one would assume. Instead, it was neat and precise. There wasn’t even an open wound. The spot I was vigorously poking was sore but appeared to have been healing for days.
Wild.
Must be some vampire bullshit. Awesome.
Speaking of vampire bullshit, Vale had some fucking explaining to do.
If I’d passed out from blood loss, the least he could have done was either finish me off or roll my body into the woods so I had a chance to die from exposure. It was December, for fuck’s sake. Nature herself could have taken care of the job.
Fuck you, Vale. Seriously.
I left the bathroom and tidied up the aftermath of my rampage through my apartment. I’d knocked over a lamp, a globe, and a painted metal rooster that I hated. However, Evan had adored it, Rob had lovingly tolerated it, and I still loved the shit out of both of them even though they were dead, so the fugly rooster held a place of honor in my home.
It was also indestructible, so hitting the floor had done more damage to the floor than it had to Mister Cluckers.
After I’d fixed everything and Mister Cluckers had been restored to his place of honor on my end table, I went to my fridge and pulled out a carton of coconut water. Then I spent a solid minute guzzling it down until all thirty-two ounces were gone.
I patted my belly when I was done and chucked the container into the garbage can.
Since I don’t know if the container for that particular brand is recyclable, and neither does the internet, I take turns chucking it into the trash bin or the recycling bin, confident that I’m getting it right fifty percent of the time. I don’t know about you, but I think those are pretty good odds when it comes to social accountability.
Once done with my liquid breakfast, I flopped back down on the couch and poked my neck some more. The pain reminded me that I hadn’t imagined the whole thing, which allowed me to have some nice, palpable emotions about the whole situation.
Those are hard to access, so when I get them, I hang on for dear life.
So, I sat with my emotions, fiddled with them, perused them, and in general wallowed in them as much as humanly possible. They would be gone soon, and I wanted my money’s worth.
However, by the time I had my fill, they were still alive and kicking, and I was left with the inescapable conclusion that I had been wronged.
Deeply wronged, even.
I’d been a good boy and not thrown myself under a bus so many times. Last night, death had come a-knockin' at my metaphorical door, and instead of killing me, he ding-dong-ditched me. As I sat there, holding the metaphorical bag of burning doggy-doo, I came to a decision.
Vale owed me. Big time.
I didn’t know how I would find him to collect, but find him I would, and when I did, I wouldn’t be satisfied until he had the decency to finish me off like he had Lyle.
I was going to have to get started on that tomorrow, though, because I had plans that couldn’t be put off a second longer.
You see, wonderful and diverse as my town may be, it has one fatal flaw. The goddamned church bells that terrorize us every year during the Christmas holiday.
