Thicker Than Blood - Chapter 6
Imported from SF2 with no description.
Thicker Than Blood
===================================================================================================================================
Pt.16 – Home Sweet Home
It was barely eight o-clock. You were kicking stones, waiting outside of the main office because you had no way into your apartment since the landlord wasn't due for… 15-20 minutes? W __hat other choice d_ o_ you have? It was simply wait to get a new key and hope he could let you pay for the new one on next month's rent. It was tiresome but all things were at this time. You just wanted to sleep: to sleep and forget in an endless sea of black.
Your eyes must have dozed off on the steps because a voice barked right at you, jolting you awake.
“Hey! What're ya doin', Vincent?" Gabriel, the big boar of a man who stood around the same height as you, but weighed twice as much. He wasn't much for talking, or fixing problems around the place, but he was still your landlord – you had to show some level of respect. It was pretty hard to, considering he always wore Hawaiian shirts and off-brand designer watches. You never met anyone with the sense of style he had and at this point, you were sure you didn't want to think of another boar like him.
“S-Sorry, Gab."
He snorted, “So, what'dya want?" He kept moving past you, unlocking the door to the apartment office.
“I need a new key."
“Oh, that. Right. Come on." His hand gestured for you to follow inside.
The office was pretty much a reception desk, computer, a couple bookshelves for records, small kitchen, and a bathroom in the back. A trashcan right next to the desk had papers lining the bottom, with the exception of a couple empty doughnut boxes and what you could identify as a half-eaten burger. You wondered if he ever tried a diet in his life, although you weren't the best example either. The thought only entertained you for a second, turning your head when he bent over into a small metal box, the large digits of his trying to sift through multiple keys, each with it's own label.
“Finally. Here ya go." His hand plucked a pair of keys from the box and dropped it in your palm. “Don't lose this'n now."
“W-Wait." Did you miss a step? “Aren't you gonna have me write a check or something?"
“Didn' yer neighbor tell ya?"
You stood there, silent.
“Look, kid. Just be thankful you got people watchin' over ya. Now, go on and don't go cryin'. Already got enough problems in them other apartments."
You watched as the big man sat down on an office chair that could've tipped over at any moment. He comfortably slid to his desk, then looked back at you, shooing you with his hand. Your hand clutched the key tight, then made for the doorknob.
Once you made it outside of the office, you began walking towards your apartment, bringing your hand up to reveal two keys – one of them had a metal tag on it that said, “104," in sloppy penmanship. Did s __he really pa_ y_ for it? You knew nobody else who would do such a thing, let alone your current situation. An aching smile tried to form on your lips, reaching the door to the apartment complex with that lone thought keeping you going. That was, until, you passed her door, Room 103. Your gut wrenched itself into a spiral with one sentence-
_ W __ hat if she wanted nothing else to do with you? _
You closed your eyes to recount the day's events: she never spoke, barely tried to look back to you, and continued with her day, just as she normally did. So, what do you think it means? The realization hit you – whatever hope you had left, you renounced it. You heart was heavy and tired, craving to just give up, fall on the floor, let the world swallow you alive. No… You had your apartment, the one place where your wish could be granted.
The door clicked open, revealing the same apartment you had been living prior to the last couple of days. Nothing had changed since you left, it was all there, waiting for you: the sparse furniture and non-existent decorations, the television with all the dust collected on it from weeks, even your bed with the sheets you barely washed. You looked towards the wall that divided your rooms, hesitating before placing a hand on it. That sinking feeling again. The only thing you could do was stand there as the regret carved its way to your heart, eventually making your legs give way, hitting the carpet with a loud thud. It didn't matter… your fingertips just wanted to hold onto the last remnants, letting your hand drag against the coarse white paint.
You missed Grace and you were ashamed to admit it. All of her time, effort, everything she gave to you, including that small escape from reality with her, was more than you could have ever asked for and you took it for granted. Every ounce of you, every fiber of your being missed her entirely.
_ Y __ ou _ _ didn't _ _ deserve her. _
Then, you passed out.
BZZT! BZZT! BZZT!
The familiar and faint sound of buzzing in the other room caught your attention, pulling you from the pitch black and empty thoughts that was your dream. Might as well get up. When you reached the source, you noticed your phone was still plugged into the wall. There was only one voicemail from Cheryl, calling to verify whatever information she talked about earlier – to schedule some kind of drug test. Of course they'd think you were loopy or place blame on something to cover their asses. You heard humans had a higher tendency of drug abuse but it felt like a stab in the gut when hearing her disbelief, despite your presence at work. Then, something caught your ear, listening to the message.
“…so make sure you're at the appointment tomorrow, the 11th. We're also, due to the circumstances, unable to let you come to work until Monday, the 17th, so you'll have a week to yourself, as long as your test results come back negative. If you have any questions, please feel free to contact me."
An entire week? It felt generous, but wasted on you. What would you even do in that time?
You clicked the button to hang up the phone.
A __s if the answer wasn't obvious enough_ … Nothing._
===================================================================================================================================
Pt.17 – Passage
Each day came as uneventfully as it went: the walls of your apartment felt more like a cage of your own accord than anything, dedicated to keeping you from going outside. It was a dangerous world after all, even your co-worker Rumi admitted you were more harm to yourself than anything. At least you were safe here, if you could call it that. The thoughts seeped their way into every pore on your skin, breaking you down little by little – you started to get numb to it. Eventually the only emotion in your system was bitterness, and everything else you wished to forget.
A trip to the store would solve that.
You drank – you don't remember how much you even bought. Until it's enough. The words slurred into your head, clearly trashed out of your mind, unable to keep yourself still in the spinning house that threatened to topple you over. It was inevitable: you fell on the bathroom floor, puking up chunks of bread and mystery meat into the toilet. The tiles on the floor were all you saw before your vision faded to black.
…
You had a dream.
For the first time, you were wading inside a black lake, up to your waist in the stuff. You tried calling out for help to anyone nearby… no one responded. The water was rising, reaching up to your chest. You tried to swim but the water was pulling you down into it's murky abyss. That's when panic started to set in: you took a deep breath before it rose above your head. Everything seemed clearer under the water's surface, but that's when you looked down… some “thing," a horrible aberration of black and tentacles had it's grip on your legs, holding you down while it's toothy grin just watched you. You were running out of air, helpless as it's face contorted even more, almost laughing while it watched. Everything was getting dark… all you could see was your hands, clawing towards the surface and-
GASP!
Your lungs took a large breath of air while you flung yourself from the floor to an upright position. Immediately, a churning sensation bubbled in your stomach and- you threw up, again, a clear bile with small pieces of food here and there. The wave of regret came with a pounding headache, coughing over and over into the toilet. You wiped the strand of spit off your mouth and proceeded to wash your face. Looks like water for the rest of the night.
Eat. Drink. Throw up. Pass out.
That seemed to be your routine now, ignorant to the days as they blended together, almost impossible to tell apart from one another. That was, until you finally ran out of alcohol. Your head and body was still aching from the previous night's booze-induced coma, but you weren't about to let the pain back in. “Whatever, it won't take long," You wanted to just get it over with and come back to wallow some more, putting on your clothes with a grimace, washing your face, and then making your way to the door. A bowl on the kitchen counter had only two sets of keys inside: one for your car, and one for the apartment and you… you hesitated.
Why?
You stared at the key to the apartment, the tag with a sloppy “104" on it as it's only indication. How long you were standing there for, just watching the damn thing? Why did it matter?
The cracks started to show…
There was that lump in your throat again. You were pissed off, grinding teeth on teeth – you wanted to let the contents of a bottle drain and numb the pain.
There was no use in hiding it forever…
You body was crumpling, holding on to the kitchen counter for support. Fingernails tried to dig into something, anything, but simply slid on the surface. You opened your mouth, forcing yourself to speak out: to yell, curse, scream – nothing came out.
You still had feelings for her.
With one arm, you backhanded the air, flinging the bowl against the refrigerator. A loud crack echoed in the apartment, immediate and now a faint ring in your ears. The keys were scattered with the ceramic on the kitchen floor. That's when you felt something on your face, a faint touch, as if someone was tracing against your cheeks with a fingertip. You lifted two fingers and placed them on your cheek, wiping what could only be described as wet – it was tears. You were crying again, after having bottled up all the pain, leading to a break in the dam, wordless and shameful.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The subtle taps on the door broke the silence, causing you to freeze in place. Sounds like somebody clearly heard the noise and came to investigate. Shit… Shit! Uhh, t __hink of an excuse and go with it. It- It just dropped and you thought a piece got in your eye. Yeah, that sh_ ould be good enough._
You wiped your eyes and face multiple times, as best as you could, before you dared to open the door. Inhale. Exhale. The latch clicked as you pulled on the doorknob…
===================================================================================================================================
Pt.18 – Detached
“Grace?"
“V-Vincent…"
Why was she here? Of all the people in the apartment, she was the one that decided to come? After everything that happened, too? You couldn't make heads or tails of it – you just stood there, speechless.
“I- I heard a loud noise," she stammered, swapping glances between you and her chest, “Is everything- Are you okay?"
Grace was standing there in the doorway, looking to you as she always did, to try and help. She was still in her business casuals, a hint of grief written on her face from the puffy eyes and wet fur underneath. It was a sucker punch to the stomach that you couldn't avoid, tightening up your chest with each look at her – still, you had to say something. Swallowing the lump in your throat took you at least two tries before you could manage, thankfully responding with the answer you had rehearsed.
“Yeah, yeah… I dropped my keys. Thought I got a piece in my eye."
You could see she was trying her best to look into your eyes: maybe she believed it, maybe she was looking for a different answer. Sweat started to trickle down your skin, the itching sensation like a slew of mosquito bites, desperately wanting to claw at it. It shouldn't be her concern. You took the sleeve of your shirt, mashed it against your face, and feigned an “I'm okay" expression before setting off into the kitchen to find a broom and dustpan that you never bought. Right as you turned the corner, she spoke to you.
“Do you need help?" She said, stepping inside your apartment with her paws pressed together. That voice… Even if it sounded squeamish, Grace's voice was full of a sincere energy that you couldn't ignore. Your body was fighting against itself in a battle to keep your composure: you wanted to go back to the way things were but your heart yearned for an escape from this prison. One glance over your shoulder was all it took to keep you bound in place.
“I'm-" Your lips quivered, pursing themselves hard against one another.
J_ust say it. Say you're fine so she can leave. Why can't you say it?_ _ What's so hard about two simple fucking words? _
“I'm- …I'm sorry." Your hand leaned against the wall, uttering that phrase, head hung in defeat.
“Vincent..?" Her voice trailed off.
What are you doing? This isn't what you're supposed to say. _ Tell her to leave! She doesn't fucking want _ _ or care about- _
“I USED you, okay?!"
The words turned your thoughts into silence, and with it, the entire apartment. You faced her with distraught engraved all over, pressing your fingers deep into your chest before slowly lifting them to meet with your sight. They felt alien to you – a part of your body that you wished never existed. Breaths turned frustrated and shallow, the scraping of teeth echoed in your head. You couldn't take it anymore.
“I'm- I'm so sick… and tired… of feeling this way. I don't- I don't deserve somebody this nice to me. You've given me so much and I- I can never repay you, Grace, no matter what I do. All the times you've been there for me and I've done NOTHING for you. You barely know ANYTHING about me and you STILL fucking care about me! I HURT you and you STILL fucking care about me! WHY do you CARE about ME?! I'M FUCKING NOBODY! I'm… no-bo-dy…"
Your voice broke after saying that, leaning your body and face against the coarse walls. That was it – everything you had bared over the last week. You forced it out of yourself in a blaze of self-inflicted hatred, and she witnessed it all: all the pity and shame and guilt that came with it.
Her expression was motionless, that's all you could tell. The tears were too much to see through as you bawled your heart out. The final piece to break it all down came violently crashing, and you were at the bottom, feeling the weight of it all. She'll walk out of that door and go in her room, crying her heart out because you were such a fucking idiot, a creep, a manipulator, somebody unworthy of all those titles. This would be the final farewell between you two. You could feel it eating away at your very core.
So you closed your eyes, allowing the dark to take you.
…
Thu-Thump. Thu-Thump.
You body was pulled into a wave of velvet, engulfing you in a place where no time existed.
Thu-Thump. Thu-Thump.
You could hear a heart beating. It sounded so calm, pulling you from your own frantic haze.
Thu-Thump. Thu-Thump.
Was it your own heart? Did the emptiness finally take you from this world?
Thu-Thump. Thu-Thump.
You didn't know – all you knew was that you were finished. The weight of your thoughts rolled off your body, as if you unshackled yourself from the world, and whatever else happened to you… it wasn't your problem anymore.