Desmodus Rotundus has a minion!

Freakthing the Xanthos

WARNING: This is story will contain blood, descriptions of a violent assault, and death. Please do not read if any of these topics make you uncomfortable in any way.

He was never a good person.
He was selfish. He was short-sighted. He seemed so arrogant, like he thought he was indestructible. He was the kind of boy who’d make promises he had no intention of keeping, and- whether he meant to or not- he collected broken hearts like fireflies in a jar. He never gave a fuck about his future or anyone else’s. He was getting a golden opportunity. But he wasted it, on drinking and smoking and anything else he could think of, always just managing to squeak by in his classes so they couldn’t kick him out. He’d had the world handed to him on a silver platter- by a powerful and successful father- but he didn’t care, he didn’t want it, he wanted to throw it all away. He was a spoiled brat, quite frankly. Well- perhaps he wasn’t that simple. Perhaps there was a reason he didn’t want the blessings his Father bestowed.

He wasn’t cruel. He hurt people through his recklessness, but he never set out with the intention of breaking anyone’s heart. Sometimes he felt remorse for the things he did. Sometimes he wished he knew why he did them.

None of that excused his selfishness, though. He never really gave much thought to anyone but himself.

He was never a good person.

But even he didn’t deserve this.

-

It was a few days after my twenty-fourth birthday.
And I was one of those people that tends to celebrate their birthday all week, so I was out with my friends. It was late at night- or early in the morning. I can’t really remember- time gets kind of blurry for me when I remember this shit.
Anyway, it was a helluva party. It was at some hole-in-the-ground squatter house downtown, but y’know, I’ve always thought that location isn’t a big deal. It’s all about who’s there- well, that, and whatever mind-altering substances you have on hand. But that’s not really important right now.

The party dragged on. It went by in a blur of colors and lights, tied together the scent of sweat and smoke and alcohol, all blended together like a big puddle of glittery vomit. At some point it started winding down. The wise ones started leaving before the music started getting slower, when the only people still dancing were the drunken couples, holding each other close and swaying. People were calling cabs and heading home to recover. Pretty soon there’d be people collapsed on couches and beds and bathroom floors. I dunno if you’ve ever hung around to see the aftermath of a party like that, but it’s not pretty- sort of like Vegas in the daylight. I didn’t want to stick around for that, so I left. My friends had gotten tired and left without me hours earlier, so I left alone.

I found my jacket on top of what looked like a pile of clothes (incidentally, it turned out to be a snoring frat boy). I realize now it was actually someone else’s jacket I’d picked up by mistake, but it didn’t matter. I looked like shit anyway. Hair all messed up, eyes blood shot. It didn’t made no difference what I was wearing.
I left the party and started walking home. I can’t really remember where it was I was going, I just remember I didn’t want to go home. I walked right on the edge of the sidewalk, holding out my hands like I was gonna fly. You know- how kids like to walk on the edge of things and pretend they’re doing a tightrope act in a circus- it was something like that.

I should’ve just left with my friends. Or at least called a cab. I really should’ve done anything but walk home alone like that…Stupid bastard. Stupid, naïve dumbass-,why the hell didn’t I-?
Ah…well, I guess it doesn’t matter anymore.

I cut through this old neighborhood and kept on going, even though there was something in my stupid drunken mind that kept telling me to turn around and go home. Like I said, I don’t remember where exactly I was going, but back then I must’ve known because I took a shortcut through the park. I walked across a kid’s playground. I got distracted- maybe I was tired or something, I dunno- and I sat down on one of the swings and started swinging. Then somehow I felt flat on my face in the playground sand and laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world.
It was the middle of the night and there I was, a grown man playing on a playground and laughing like a maniac. I’m pretty sure someone would’ve called the cops on me if they’d seen. Unfortunately for me, no one did, so after I got up and brushed the sand off, I went on my way.

I reached the other side of the park where there was a rusty chain-link fence. It was probably like seven tall, and there was a pretty good chance that if I made it up, I would’ve fallen and broken my neck and died anyway. Or I could’ve gotten cut by the metal and gotten tetanus and died from that. Either of those fates would better than what actually happened.
I was half way up the chain-link fence when it started. I didn’t hear them come up, and I didn’t see them coming. I felt them grab the back of my jacket and pull me down off that fence.
“Wh-what the hell, man?” I spluttered.
I heard a growl. A snarl. And I thought to myself, Dang, I must be more drunk than I thought.
Next thing I know, I’m being shoved against the fence, the metal pressing into my face. I was pissed, screaming curses at them. Their grip on me would’ve left bruises. I wasn’t really scared yet, though. I just figured they’d take my wallet and my phone and be on their way, so I didn’t fight. There was no point.
I felt an icy cold hand on the back of my head, pushing my face harder against the fence. I think I might’ve told them to just take what they wanted and go, or something, I dunno. I heard them laugh at that. I heard them hissing in my ear. Can’t remember what they said, it’s all a haze. Something…something…. A threat? A taunt? I don’t know and I probably never will.
Whatever it was, it made me start getting scared. I started fighting, trying to get away, screaming at them and telling them that they’d be as good as dead if my father ever found out about this.

“D’ya have any idea who I am?” I remember saying, my voice still slurred, “Yer s-so screwed man, so so screwed,”

Apparently it didn’t concern them, and I wasn’t strong enough to break their grip. I kept trying to turn to see them so I could at least have a description for the police sketch artist, but they kept my face pushed against the fence and if I ever got a good look at them, I can’t remember it.
I remember claws ripping down my back. The claws cut through that tough leather and the cotton t-shirt underneath like it was nothing. It ripped my skin and burned like a hot brand against my back. I think I screamed from the pain. I was crying at that point, realizing that this wasn’t just some mugger.

“What…what is this?”

There was no answer. They pulled off the shredded jacket to get at my neck. Then they bit down. The teeth cut into me deep, so deep, like steak knives. More screaming. It was so loud- sometimes I wonder if someone heard me, and they just didn’t care enough to help me.
They were taking my blood. I could feel them drawing it out, drinking it. ”This can’t be real, it’s just a bad dream, a bad trip, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay…”
They stopped drinking, but didn’t let go. I dunno how long they just stood there with their disgusting teeth in their neck like that. And then…

Rip.

It hurt. I remember the pain more than anything. It was the kind of pain that consumes you. Not only do you feel it- you taste it, and hear it, and smell it. I tried to scream, but the only thing that came out was a noise like bubbling water.
Then they let me go. They stepped back, letting me drop to my knees against the fist. They said something else. This something I remember- “You’ll be grateful for this one day.”
They didn’t leave right away, but I can’t remember what they were doing. By the time I had dragged a few feet myself a bit in a feeble attempt to find help, they were gone. They left me all alone.
I ended up collapsed on my stomach a few feet away from the fence, lying in a growing pool of my own blood. The blood was coming so fast. It stained my soul just as easily as it stained my clothes. I tried to stop it, but they’d severed my artery when they’d ripped my neck open, so there was no chance.

It didn’t take long. A few minutes, maybe. But they were the worst minutes of my life. It hurt so, so bad, and I couldn’t think, I just fought, kept trying to drag myself along. I was like an animal who didn’t yet know it was trapped.
Gradually, though, as my life blood drained away, I calmed down. I settled into my fate like I was just going to sleep for the night. I remember how warm my blood was. It was kind of pretty, too. A pretty red color.

I felt tired, so I closed my eyes.

…

Shh, don’t cry. It’s okay….it’s going to be okay, sweetie.

Are…are you sure?

Yes, I promise. I’ll come down there and get you, okay? We’ll finally get to spend some time together. Just let go and I’ll be right there to meet you.

Really? Promise?

Cross my heart.

Okay…then I guess I’ll go to sleep now. Love you.

I love you, too, sweetie. With all my heart.

See you soon…

…

But that didn’t happen. We didn’t see each other.
Because I woke up.
I woke up, and I didn’t think about where I was or what had happened or why that there was only a scar across my neck were there should’ve been a fresh, gaping wound.

I didn’t think about any of this because I was alive.

I was alive and I was starving.

-

- - - - - - -

Full Name | Alexander Hale
Alias | Lex, Desmodus Rotundus (vampire bat.)
Occupation | ???r
Gender | Male
Subeta species |Bloodred Lasirus
Approx. Age | Stuck at twenty-four, has been for three years
Sexual Orientation | Bisexual
Created By | OldHazel