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Entry #616417, added on 11-03-08 @ 4:44 pm EST.
[Entry Access Restriction] None.
Title:
(1987) Three
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She was on her third Diamond White when Lauren came up to their able and wrapped her arms around Lucy from behind. She squeezed tight and kissed her on the cheek.
“Lucy!” she cried over the music. “Where were you? Who's your friend? Can you buy me a drink?”
Her questions came quick as she fell into a chair next to Lucy, blinking hard to try and focus her eyes on her friend.
“I don't think you should have any more to drink Laur,” she said her won vision a touch blurry ion the edges.
“William,” he shouted, reaching across to shake her hand. Lauren giggled.
“This is my friend Lauren,” Lucy said,.
“The one you were supposed to meet.”
“Yeah! What happened?” Lauren asked.
“I couldn't find the fucking bar,” Lucy said, downing the rest of her drink.
“Told you, it's off Baker street.”
“I walked up and down bleeding Baker street,” she snapped, the anger lost in the music.
“Sorry Luce, next time we'll meet at mine.”
“How 'bout I get us all some drinks?” William said, “same again?” he asked Lucy. She nodded.
“Vodka tonic,” Lauren said, with a smile. He nodded and headed to the bar. “I like him.”
“'Course you do, he's buying you a drink.”
“Where did you find him? In here? I've never seen him in hear before?”
More quick fire questions and Lucy smiled at her friend. She was a hyperactive drunk, happy and quick, and just a little silly. Lucy was the opposite, the same when they were sober, she became depressed, and felt it now, despite the music. William was annoying, maybe nice, maybe a freak, and she still wasn't sure. They had talked over their drinks, over the music but now she realised it had been all about her, her life, her mum, dad, Lauren. She still didn't know anything about him, if he lived in Tottenham, if he even lived in London, if he worked. All she knew was that he smoked B and H and drank lager.
When he came back, he dropped three glasses onto the table, spilling some, sitting down next to Lucy again.
“He came out of no where,” Lucy said, finally answering her friends question, “been following me ever since.”
“Following g you?” Lauren asked looking at William.
“Back into Tottenham, to Rajesh's, here.”
“Hey,” he protested, “I suggested coming here.”
“I was coming here anyway,” she said, fighting the urge to stick her tongue out at him.
“I just thing she's pretty,” William said to Lauren.
“She is pretty!” Lauren said, bugging her friend again.
“And interesting,” William put in.
“Don't know 'bout that.”
Lucy rolled her eyes and took a long drink of her Diamond White.
“You just needed a fucking light,” she said.
“Okay, no more cider for you Luce,” Lauren said, sliding the glass across the table.
“Yeah, well no more vodka for you,” Lucy snipe back, taking the glass from her friend and downing her drink.
“Oh very mature.”
“I'm going to dance,” she said, getting up, a little unsteady on her feet.
“I'll get you another,” William said.
“I got it.”
She got up and went to the bar, leaving William sitting at the table for a minute before getting up and going after Lucy, pushing through the people jumping around on the dance floor until he found her near the DJ.
“Why are you so angry?” he yelled over the music.
“'Cause Lauren is annoying and you won't leave me the fuck alone!” she yelled back.
William glared at her, baring his teeth for a moment, the perfect white of them lightened up under the club lights but Lucy didn't flinch or back away. She glared back, staring him down, the vibration of the music the only thin that moved them, and barely.
He broke away first, storming away across the dance floor, and to the exit, pushing people aside, pushing people over Lucy watched him go, then started to dance again.
z
William was leaning against the wall of the club, smoking when Lucy left, stumbling out after Lauren and the bloke she was attached to. She looked at him, frowning, trying to focus on him. She'd had more to drink since he'd left, and things were getting a little fuzzy and blurry and she was still pissed off with him, though she couldn't quite remember why.
She looked ahead of her again and Lauren had disappeared. She'd be walking home alone again, which was fine by her, but William was staring at her still.
“You have blood on you,” she said, pointing at a smudge on his chin.
“Bouncer gave me some trouble,” he said, shrugging her hand away.
“Did you win?”
“Do you see the bouncer?” he asked, wiping his chin on his sleeve. She looked around, seeing just the regulars leaving the club stumbling along like her.
“You going to follow me him now?”
“Do you want me too?” he asked.
“No.”
“you want to follow me home?”
“No.”
“Are you going home?”
“Yes,” she said, “no! I'm going to get something to eat first.”
“Me too,” he said smiling.
“Of course you are,” she muttered.
They walked away from the club, William digging his hands into his leather jacket, Lucy pulling her crumpled cigarette from the pocket of her jacket, pulling the last one out and throwing the empty packet to the floor. William huffed, but she ignored him, feeling in her pockets for her matches.
“Shit,” she mumbled.
“What?.”
“Lost my fucking matches.”
“You swear too much.”
“You said already, and you're still following me to the chippy.”
“I know.”
He handed her his box of matches and she took them with a weak smile, lighting her cigarette quickly. She took a shirt drag, and let it dangle from her fingertips.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“There's a chip shop on Harlaxton Avenue,” she told him.
“I don't like chips.”
“Then why are you following me?”
He didn't answer and pulled her into an alleyway instead, the sudden lurch of her entire body causing her to drop her lit cigarette and stumble, falling onto William. He kept her upright and slammed her into the brick wall, pressing his entire body against her. He felt much harder than he looked, was stronger than she had assumed too, and smelt of smoke and lager, a hint of gin still on his breath. She tried to push back, gained a millimetre or two back, but he pressed down harder, his hands on her wrists.
She went to scream but he snapped her head to the side, surprising her, confusing her because she hadn't expected that, had expected him to start pulling her clothes off and she was dumbstruck when he sank his teeth into her neck.
They went right through, the brilliant white carnivores pierced her skin without resistance and the sheer white heat of it left her gasping, not screaming, in pain. She couldn't catch her breath, could only feel it and see it leaving her in whips of white air. She was blinded but she could still see every crack and crevice in the brick wall opposite her, when she looked down at William she could see every single hair on his head. Could separate every follicle and molecule but still felt like she couldn't see a thing. When he finally pulled away from her throat she felt a loss she knew would never be replaced, and she'd never be whole again.
He kissed her.
Bright red lips, drops of her own blood staining his brilliant white teeth, fangs, she thought, dripping down his chin, a smudge on his cheek. The bouncer, she remembered, and she managed a groan as he pushed his tongue into her mouth, lips sticking together as the blood dried. She was faint, weak, dying, the blood flowing down her neck and into her clothes. It was going to be impossible to wash out but she was sure her mother had some old way, and it was an odd thing to to be thinking about while kissing a man, a monster. While bleeding to death.
She was remembering bits from biology at school, the jugular vein, the coppery taste of bloody. Red blood cells, white blood cells platelets. Remember old horror films and books, coffin and stake, garlic and sunlight.
When William pulled away, his eyes were black and his face was red, he was the only thing holding her up against the wall. His hands still gripping her wrists, his hips pushed into hers, knees pressing down her legs, an erection pushing into her side and she wanted to laugh. So she smiled at him, high on blood loss and Diamond White.
“Either,” she started with a gasp, “you're a necro-, a necro-”
“Necrophiliac?” he said.
“Yeah,” she gasped., “or a fucking vampire.” She slumped a bit further down the wall and he pushed her back up, the movement pushing her skirt and jacket up, the brick scraping against her skin. “Or both.”
He laughed then, loud, and she found enough breath to laugh too for a second.
“If you're a vampire,” she started.
“A fucking vampire,” he corrected.
“Then you're out of luck,” she closed her eyes, pushing her side into his erection with what little energy she had left, “I think I'm gay.”
“You think you're gay?”
“You know gay? A dyke, lesbo, whatever....” she trailed off, she wasn't sure what she was doing, arguing with him, or where she was going with this. One last confession before death? Convince the vampire not to rape her as well as eat her?
“You think?”
She chuckled.
“I think so,” she sobbed, “I'm sure I'm dying.”
“You're not dying,” he said, “If I just wanted to eat you, drink your blood, I would've hours ago.”
She couldn't say any more, and couldn't really think either, her blood was rushing, rushing down her neck still, and it was going to be over soon, despite what he said. She was sure of it. He pulled away and she fell onto her backside in the alley, jolting a little when she hit the ground. With her hands free, she felt the wounds at her neck, two perfect little holes. She opened her eyes and looked up at him.
“This isn't the end Lucy.”
“Fucking feels like it.”
He smiled down at her.
“You swear too much,” he told her.
“Stop saying that.”
“Never,” he said with a grin. “I'm going to be saying it for a long fucking time.”
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