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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Emotional · #2182420
Fiction but I put some portions about my life in this story. You can take a guess
         My name is Artyom Kalashnikov, I used to believe in something working behind closed doors. There was a time where the power of hate and the power of confusion could not faze me. Those very different emotions had run my life into the ground as I spiraled into a depression I had been driven down by myself three years ago. I had decided to sell my soul, I know not the best choice. Never the best choice, but I had made that choice. In my opinion, I came out of this ordeal with a benevolent wraith whom I named Vera; meaning truth. Nobody would believe my story. If this story was told I would be drugged and thrown into a padded cell, because of the fear felt by other people. Just like the beginning the cold-war, where the fear of Russia getting their hands on nuclear weapons it makes people afraid of a country holding such power.
         I love this experience as half-human and wraith, with Vera I can see things differently than before. I can talk to her have philosophical conversations with her, she offers insight on plans, conversations and things to do. Many of my decisions are brought into a different perspective as I never have had someone else poking around in my head. Now I see the natural and the unnatural... the mundane and the absolute bat-shit crazy. Trust me it is more of a mere curse than it is a blessing... well somewhat of a blessing.
         I just see other entities. Have you ever got chills down your spine when you find the janitor at your school looking at you? Well, he is probably just someone creepy, unless you see it through my eyes. There are three simple possibilities of what he is. The first possibility is that he is a pedophile and the police need to know that he is looking at you. The second possibility, that janitor is a creature of sorts. The third is that you have mud on your shoes and you have been creating a line of dirt making his day the first ring of hell in Dante's Divine Comedy.
         What I am about to say is going to sound insane, but have you ever felt you were close to something truly-extraordinary you want to stay with it forever. No, I am not mentally ill, I did not break out of an asylum, what I say is what is true. I have kept a certain level of humanity as I have my good half of the soul. My other half is neither good or bad.
I had officially turned eighteen years old today, I have been told I look older than yesterday by some close friends. Now I am not a very talkative person, my friends have always noticed that about me. They also noticed something was going on with me inside, as I had not been eating much as of late. That is because I don't want to eat as simple as that. They believe that there is something going on with me at home. I deny this as quickly as possible, always changing the subject to something random to hide my fear of going home. Except it always comes back to my problems at "home".
         I have never had a steady relationship with my family. I get in trouble to get away from my parents, subsequently making the condition worse at home. You are probably thinking Wow, he is so spoiled, I am far from spoiled. I was adopted, so having a warm meal, bed, and clothes is good enough for me. In the past week, I have started three fights, screamed slurs at a teacher, and shoplifted from a store to get one night of peace away from the house which had caused such hell for my parents. I am currently a senior in high school, I am an avid writer of stories... mundane or not. I write about stories that are true, that I can relate too.
         Warm water spewed out of the shower-head after I had turned the nozzle to the left. I looked down at the ceramic tiles of the floor at the black and white pattern which never ceases to amaze me. I open up the door of the shower, after drying off with a blue towel for around five minutes of staring at the tiles. I wrap my waist with the dark blue towel, which hung up on the silver bar which had been broken many times. I am 5 ft.9, tall enough to reach that jar of cookies on the top shelf if need to be. I am 152 pounds, not fat but also not skinny... more athletic.
         I look in the mirror, my brown hair wiry after drying it off with the towel as my hazel eyes glint like amber in the dark light. My chiseled jaw had acquired a clean look at my thin blonde beard shines in the small shower light. There was a scar above my eye that goes vertical creating a badass look, this was accompanied by bruises down the right side of my face.
         My hands bloody and worn from the fight three days ago, where I had been fought by my parents, I had landed two punches on my "Dad" in the jaw with a loud and deafening crack. The next guidance counselor had asked me where I had gotten the bruises and blood on my knuckles. I stayed silent as the school cop had asked me question after question. I was like a prisoner of war being tortured for information that was vital to the defense of my partisan allies. The cop and counselor had then questioned my parents, which was asking for an ass whooping when I get home. I added getting fucking abused by my "parents" to the list of the things that my parents had done.
         I finished up in the bathroom grabbing my watch as a small beep sounded from the watch as I set an alarm for myself. After unlocking and opening the old oak door, I walked through the dull hallway. Turning on the light inside my room at the end of the hall, this room, unlike the hallway, had a sense of warmness and color. Not just in color but in the items which held great value to me. I looked at the assortment of trinkets on my long oak baseboard. A .50 caliber bullet casing to a high-powered rifle found on the ground outside of the church, next to the bullet is a picture of my "happy" family taken in Pictured Rocks, Michigan; when I was fifteen years old. I thought as I looked at everyone in the picture all bearing fake expressions of joy: Were these the good old days?
         I sighed as I turned my attention to the rest of my room, my bed neatly made by myself before I had left for school that morning. I walked over to my office space, which is just an oak desk in my room. pushed against the wall. I looked at the papers on my the desk: a CD with my favorite songs burnt on the disc. I turn on the CD player with Take Me Home, Country Roads by John Denver soothingly expelled from the speakers as all of my troubles are whisked away, replaced with the sudden urge to sing.
         I turn the CD player off after listening to the song for the fortieth time. I sit down in the leather office chair shuffling papers, a photo slides out of the pile. I look at the photo, the photo is of a woman with brown hair, steel gray eyes, and a smile with a set of white teeth. The background of the picture is of a Marathon gas station near my house. I softly set the photo down on my table, just before I flip the photo over expecting to find some kind of message... Nope, nothing on the back of the photo.
         "Artyom, are you ready!" the voice of my young brother shouted from the upstairs, "You're driving, so let's go, bro, ASAP!"
         "I will be right up!" I yell with an annoyed tone while setting the photo inside the flap of my brown leather wallet putting it in my back pocket.
         Getting up I grab my black shirt and trench coat from the closet, I slipped on some black jeans and white socks. Everything was neatly set in the place where they belong. If I had seen something out of place in my room, I know who to blame for the disturbance in my domain. I blame the person who tries to butt into my life every five seconds, whether I am sleeping or not. My "Dad" is the nosiest person in the family, he would go out of his way to find something to abuse me about whether it is physically or mentally. I shut the closet door with a click then exiting my room. I then turn to the left walking up the stairs as if nothing is on my mind. I take a left with the mellow walls opening up to a kitchen with too many appliances. My family has two microwaves... Who the hell needs two microwaves? Are you trying to warm up your entire fridge or all of last week's dinner?
         My 16-year-old brother; Tom is standing in front of the door, jumping up and down. He is shorter than me, with black hair, not even a stubble of a beard. He has a girlfriend named Lily, who in my opinion is a first rate whore. All the woman does is the bitch and complaint about anything she can think of. The sad part about this is she is coming to the movies with us tonight, knowing her she won't stop flapping her mouth.
         We exit the warm house and enter the cold winter evening. To understand how the driveway is situated there is the entrance with two lamp posts that shine brightly through all low sight conditions. There is a barn parallel to the garage, parallel to the garage there is a circle, in the middle of the circle is a tall pine tree. The circle goes to the front porch, rebounding back to the entrance with the lamp posts. I was given keys today to my car, which I spent my own money on. My friends make fun of my choice for buying the light blue Station Wagon, or as they call it: "The-Baby-maker". They won't be laughing when they are stuck in an unhealthy relationship and have a family of their own.
         We had driven silently for twenty-five minutes, that was until Lily hopped in the backseat wearing a long sleeve shirt which looked cut at the point of her stomach was revealing. Her marsh-green eyes eyed my brother as she got in the car her black hair was tied in a ponytail. Well, not a ponytail it was more of a rat-tail I commented on that once, she did not stop yelling from the backseat until we were at the theaters parking lot. Now, this is where everything gets weird. Before I can turn to the back to scream at Lily to shut the fuck up I slam my foot on the break making the car screech to a halt, in front of a woman.
         In front of the car a beautiful Caucasian woman standing about the same height as me. Looking about 145 pounds in front of my headlights, sporting a black long-sleeve shirt which was accompanied by jet black leggings and black combat boots. Her chestnut hair flowing down her head freely, her warm-grey eyes pierced mine as I have a sudden revelation. I take the picture out of my wallet comparing it to the woman in front of the car. She looks Several questions burst into my head as I stare into the grey-eyes of the woman. How did she get into my house and do I know her... or does she know me?
         My brother who has been sitting in the front seat quietly looking at the woman ruins another great moment. He rolls down the window starting to catcall, hoot and talk about the length of the appendage of a man. Note this is in freezing weather so cold air is flowing through the open window. The woman turns and looks at me mouthing: "Shut him up, or I will do it for you," catching her drift, I look at my brother and I tell him to shut up. As I turn to see if the woman is still there she is gone, nowhere. We parked one mile away from the cinema which I am probably going to regret doing, later on, it is just a feeling. What the hell is going on with that woman? I thought as we entered the warm cinema.
         We saw the movie Creed II; well they saw the movie. I was trying to put the pieces of the puzzle that have been set in front of me, given to me with no directions whatsoever. I walk outside tired, confused, and annoyed with the lack of interest. After hearing the door close of the cinema, a man's voice echoes from the alleyway. Sparking an intense curiosity of what is going on, I walk towards the sound with some intention of getting caught. The snow crunches under boot as I trudge drunkenly to the sound of Vera naming all of my bad life choices, the ones that I regret.
         I turn the corner of the brick wall trying to be as incognito as possible. It was two seconds after I saw that woman sitting on the boxes, I was spotted. I was spotted exactly two seconds after seeing the woman. It was mid-November, snowy, windy and all that good Michigan weather. I was freezing my arse off looking at a woman down the alley. My acute eyes scan around the woman, a couple bags of garbage spread on the ground next to her, and the man with a Markov pistol in his hand getting ready to shoot the woman. The man notices where the woman's eyes are directed and turns to look where the eyes trajectory landed. Unlike the woman's passive eyes, his red eyes shoot me a look full of burning malice and hatred for the world, like a bully who had seen red.
         "Come out I know you're here," the man's raspy voice cackles, "I won't hurt you."
         "Debatable," I yell turning the corner, just in time to see a flash from the muzzle of the gun. I was directly in the sight of the man when the trigger was pulled. The woman's unearthly speed saved me and in a blur, I was thrown back into the cover as the woman appears to side with the smell of lavender on her clothes. More shots ring out of the gun as the woman presses her body against me. This probably saved my life as the bullets whiz into the brick wall and past our heads. The woman's breasts weight leave my chest as she looks into my eyes reassuringly, with her arms flanking my neck protectively resting on my shoulders. Her warm breath bounces off of my skin sending a warm sensation up my spine that grants a sensation of energy that grants me a renowned vigor. The woman smiles at me as I glance into her eyes a glint of happiness and archaic familiarity, that seems vaguely similar.
         If you believe that I had known this woman before this meeting you are mistaken. I don't know where the eyes looked so familiar-- then it came to me in an instant. I had seen her a couple times in the gas station; however, every time I had turned away from her, she was gone when I turned back to look at her. I had once tried to look for her when she disappeared for the thirtieth time, no maybe it was the fiftieth or sometime around the sixtieth time... I don't know it really doesn't matter but she wasn't in the gas station. Nobody was in the family restroom, so not there. She wasn't even behind the shelves of snacks. The woman wasn't in the gas station, but as I left I have always had the sense of someone is watching me from the darkness.
         The sound of footsteps brings me back to the sudden realization that her arms had left my shoulders. I could have snapped back to the second when her comforting and warm breath had not made contact with my skin. The footsteps get closer quickly the sound of the feet under the boot squeak under the snow as the figure gets closer. I hold my breath thinking of the woman, that is until the man turns the corner aiming the gun at me.
         "Where is it, where is the creature?" he interrogates me with the gun's barrel aimed at my chest.
         A soft crunch is heard from behind the man, I stare behind the man managing a petty smile as the woman walks behind him. She is directly behind his back, close enough for her breath to be felt on his neck. The woman taps him on the shoulder twice, I blink before the man can jump around out of fear. The woman wasn't there after I had opened my eyes after I had blinked. I had almost jumped out of my skin as a pair of warm hands grab me from behind. I am then tossed from the ground onto the roof with a thud, I am dragged to my feet by the soothing hands.
         The woman brushes the dust off of my coat roughly, yet sympathetically. Before she can brush the lower parts of my coat down near my knee, I grab her wrist before she can begin to dust it off. I see her eyes dart up looking into mine as I push her against the brick wall. The woman smiles happily as I push my body against hers with heat emanating from our bodies. I ripped out my serrated hunting knife from the holster on my leg, hell-bent on getting answers from the woman. I gripped the knife by the handle putting the point against her neck.
         "What the hell are you?" I interrogate before my knife is knocked from my hand and I am thrown onto the wall by the woman. The woman didn't even break a sweat throwing me into the wall, then pushing her body against mine. I am surprised by the sudden turn in who is in control here, I look at the knife lying on the roof. The woman uses her left hand to push me into the wall, she then grabs my jaw turning to face her. As quickly as her hand had turned my head to face her. The woman's tongue is shoved down my throat, her arm was draped around my neck softly rubbing the hair on the back of my head. Thirty seconds later, we were laying on the roof, well as I see it: trying to stay warm. Now I had been able to grab my knife discreetly. I roll on top of her, swiftly holding her hands above her head. I point the tip of the blade on her neck and repeat the question I had asked earlier.
         "For the second time, what the hell are you?" I interrogate smiling tiredly.
         "What do you think I am?" the woman chastises, rolling on top of me. She pinned me down, her legs locking my legs from moving or getting out from under her. I sigh heavily as my arms are being held down above my head as I did to her.
         "I am guessing you are very strong and beautiful." I mutter tiredly, "Something good?"
         The woman smiles her white teeth shining at me, I take the opportunity to get back on top. The woman's legs still around of my legs and arms around my neck. Her head was nestled in my chest when I felt the sudden urge to get away from the woman. I try to get up off the small part of the roof that was lower than the actual roof around on yard above the pavement below. As soon as I am free from the woman, I rolled off the side of the edge and back into the alley.

         "Is this hell?" I ask out loud, with my eyes squeezed tight as I slowly realize that my head is in the woman's lap. I slowly open up my eyes to see steel-grey eyes looking into mine full of concern and empathy. She strokes my hair calm and methodical. Crunch, crunch, crunch the sound of footsteps from inside of the alleyway heading towards the exit of the alley. The woman darts up hearing the approaching steps and drags me into the darkness with her. She rests my head on her lap, returning back to stroking my hair. The footsteps pass by as I squint in the darkness I can see the man trudging out of the alley dropping the pistol in the snow. Now, this is when I started panicking, the woman saw the reason why I had started freaking out. I needed to get somewhere warm or else I was going to be frozen on the woman's lap. I shivered in the woman's lap as she took off her long sleeve shirt revealing the black bra, she put the shirt over my head and had wriggled it onto my upper body. The woman had then decided to pull my head closer into her chest wrapping her arms around my neck. It is around five degrees Fahrenheit, the worst possible temperature for me to be stuck in an alley. The woman’s warm bosom warming me up slightly but not majorly.
         “We need… to… get… to the car.” I mutter over labored breaths trying to reserve my heat. The woman lifts me lightly from the ground as I struggle to put my arm around the woman's neck. She carries me with one arm, all while trying to move my struggling arm around her neck. From my position I am trying to stay warm in my cold clothes and her long sleeve shirt, I am snuggled up against her chest trying to stay as warm as possible. Two men walk out of the cinema seeing the woman with no shirt on, they run over to ask if she is doing okay, she looks at me with sympathetic grey-eyes.
         “Are you okay?” the one of the left asks her.
         “Yes, I am okay. Do you not see the man in my arms, who is freezing to death?” she retorts to the men.
         “Yeah… but why don’t you leave him in the snow and help a real man?” the Mexican man to the left asks, flexing his muscles as if there was anything there.
         “Well, I have a real man who is dying in my fucking arms. He is someone you will never be, more thoughtful than you,” she says full of compassion and sympathy.
         I slowly look up to see the woman stop walking, and bare her fangs to the men. Now I am talking about actual fangs, literal fucking fangs that descended from the roof of her mouth. At the sight of the starch white fangs, the two men run across the parking lot and into the cinema. The fangs stayed in the roof of her mouth they only ascending after she saw me shivering and staring into her eyes.
         “Thank you… my...name is… Artyom. What… is…--?” I ask with my voice quivering with each word.
         The woman looks at me with warmness glinting in her bright eyes, “Artyom; my name is Natasha.”
         “Natasha?” I ask my fingers turning into ice, the temperature doesn’t bother Natasha at all.
         Natasha looks at me while walking, “Yes, what is it?”
         “I am fucking cold.” I manage to chuckle and crack a smile for a brief moment as. I didn’t talk until we had gotten to where the car was parked.          Natasha briefly smiles at me then looks up to see where the vehicle was parked, I tell her through shudders that it is a light blue Station Wagon. She finds it almost immediately, she asks for the keys to the vehicle. With trembling hands I manage to fish the keys out of my long coat, she opens a hand and I drop them in the open palm. She opens the door to the backseat of the car laying me down on the floor between the backseat of the car. She then opens the passenger seat of the car and opens the compartment inside of the passenger side dashboard, fishing out a wool blanket that barely managed to fit in there for emergencies.
         Natasha turned on the heat of the car while in the front seat after putting the key in the ignition and starting the car. She shut the door to the front seat while unwrapping the wool blanket and in the very back of the car stripping down to her underwear. Natasha had put her arms forward as she did when we were being shot by the madman in the alley. This time she wrapped the wool blanket around me and hugged me tight as if to protect me from the cold. I was getting warm quickly but I was still very much cold. My fingers were still blue but they were slowly turning back to the normal color of a finger. Natasha smelled like lavender... sweet lavender.
         “I bet you have a lot of questions Artyom...” Natasha driving her fingers through my hair, back and forth in that motion several times. I can feel her chest puff up and down, from under the wool blanket with a peaceful regularity. I think about all of my bruises on my body from the abuse and from the fights that they started for no fucking reason whatsoever. Natasha queried with her grey eyes protectively bouncing up and down my body, She then asks the question: “Where did you get all of the bruises?”
         Now this is the first time someone had actually given a single unconditional fuck about me. My lip trembles under the pressure to speak about the bruises lining my face, the gouges in my lip, and the scar running down my face. I avert my hazel eyes from the pressure of steel grey prodding me for an answer. Maybe it is for the best for what I did what I did next, maybe not. I let my eyes wet with the tears rolling down my face and the pain coming back. I expected her to recoil at the sight of me crying to let go of her arms around my neck. I did not expect like everything in this story for what happened next; she held me tighter as if she knew what I was going through. I rip my arms from under the wool blanket and rested my head on her shoulder.
         “Don’t worry, let it all out. If you don’t want to talk about it is fine with me.” Natasha comforts rubbing my hair.
         “It needs to be talked about..” I sniffle, so I tell her everything and I do mean everything. From the adoption to my parents beating me if they found me researching the occult or even with a can of pop in my room, I tell her of the daily abuse I suffer in that hellhole, I confess all of sins and goals to her and she attentively listens nodding occasionally to what I have to say. I finish telling the
         “So are you truly a vampire?” I ask warmer than I was thirty minutes ago.
         The woman looks down at me wrapping her arms around of my neck and kisses my forehead full of unconditional love, “Yeah, it is a turn off isn’t it? I am also guessing you are wondering how I know you. That will be answered in time, Artyom.”
         “It doesn’t turn me off… at the moment.” I joke cracking a smile that is shared with Natasha, it is a good feeling to share jokes with someone you love… wait how the hell does, I know I love her. Well I think the feeling is mutual if it is even mutual I think her compassion for helping me is love enough.
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