Weapon

WEAPON

My body is a weapon, a breathing, bleeding, seething thing waiting to be freed.

My body is a weapon, sucking life from me; my body is a weapon, its beauty mine to see.

My body is a weapon, a promise yet fulfilled; this body is a weapon, with many more to kill.

In me breathes a monster, ticks a bomb, lives a weapon that sucks my life from me moment-by-moment, day by day. A dreaming death clock that has decided all that is to befall me save the day it is to come. In me has grown a vampire, from seeds sown deep in me, a grim black thing that sucks days from me like blood and can never be sated.

I fought it, and fought it hard, as can be seen in my eyes; or rather the circles dug beneath them like moats. But you can never fight this thing, not fight it and win. It craves your struggle, gets stronger the more I fight it, so I stopped fighting, gave up is what the people that loved me said, but you can’t give up a fight you can never win. You have to have had hope to give up. Hope’s a thing I never had.

Hadn’t had since, oh, oh that was so very long ago, when I had hope.

I was seventeen, it was in fact, the day I turned seventeen, the day I lost hope.

Oh yes, but perhaps I get ahead of myself.

Perhaps.

But then that happens when there is a time bomb within you ticking off how much time you have left.

But lying.

Telling you you have more time than you ever can.

I believed the lies, you have to if you want to see any other days past the one on which you hear those words, hear the pronouncement of your sentence. And so you believe them, the doctors, the counselors, the friends and parents. You believe them when they tell you that you can beat this, that you are strong, that they will find a cure.

But the vampire knows better and laughs at all of this as it drinks deep of your life. Laughs as you struggle to hold on, to find an answer, a reason, a cure. And it’s that laughter that haunts your nights, taints your dreams, filling your heart and head and pushing everything away, as if you are floating out to sea.

And they tried, god how they tried to save me. To help me. To love me. But the vampire doesn’t allow that. And they could never see that. Could never see that it was me that was turning away from them, was pushing them away as this thing raged in me but that it was it that did it. That made me say the things I did. Tell them what I had done.

And god the things I have done.

But maybe I need to go back.

So far back.

Some friends had thrown me a party, a birthday party, and it was amazing. I couldn’t believe how many people had shown for it. And sure, most came for the beer, came because everyone else had come but still, to think that even some of those people had come for me. Because of me, it was something a bit beyond wonderful. And so was the night.

Until…

I was the belle of the ball, was talking to people I had never spoken to before, that I had never even seen before, and they all listened, all smiled, all responded when I spoke. And the more I drank the more I did speak, and the more they said back. And whenever my hand was empty in it sprang another drink, as if by magic, and I drank it down and there was another. And why not? It was my birthday.

But the later it got the more things seemed to slow down for me, and the slower I felt, as if I was in quicksand, and always there was a drink in my hand, even when I put the cup that I had been given down, always there was another, and behind that cup was usually one of two faces, two guys I had seen at my school, and always they were there, smiling. Giving.

But I had had enough. And then my friend Jamie floated into my view and took my hand and led me to the back of the house, to the guest bedroom. She said I looked sick, that I had been drinking too much. I wanted to answer, even tried to answer, to tell her that it wasn’t me, I wasn’t even getting the drinks, I was just drinking them, but I couldn’t even speak. I tried but I couldn’t. So she laid me in the bed and kissed my forehead and turned the light out and told me she’d be back soon.

But she never came back.

And so I sat there in that darkness, awake but not conscious, just floating, everything feeling fuzzy like it does when you are sick with fever.

Then there was light for a moment as the door was opened and then closed again, and then came the voices, two voices, and I knew them, I knew them because they were the voices of the guys from school, the ones behind the drinks. And I wanted to tell them I was sick, that I wanted to be left alone, I didn’t want company, but I couldn’t speak, found I couldn’t even move, and then they just started laughing, laughing with each other as they started taking my clothes off. Stop it, please, please stop it, but they wouldn’t, they went on, and suddenly I was naked and I felt their mouths on me, their hands, and then their bodies and god how I hurt, I could feel the blood running from me down my legs and pooling beneath me as they, as they, as they…and it went on forever and all I could do was lie there and wait for them to be done. I blacked out before they were done though, blacked out and awoke the next day when my friend Jamie was asking me what had happened, why there was blood on the bed and why I was naked.

And I told her.

Told everyone.

But no one believed me.

Even if they had said they did.

I saw it in their eyes, all of their eyes, I had wanted it, had been drunk and horny and had wanted these men to fuck me, the perfect birthday present.

And so nothing was done.

And I had to face them, those boys, in the school halls for the next three weeks before graduation. I was trapped. No one believed me. No one would do anything to help me. And there was nowhere I could go with three weeks left in the school year before I graduated.

And that was when I lost hope.

And from there, well, the bottom wasn’t very far at all.

Nothing mattered, not the name, not the face, just what was behind it all, and when I was done with them I was done. I didn’t need a thank-you, I love you or goodbye. I needed them gone so I could be alone again.

I don’t even know if I felt anything from any of it, I was so far gone by that point, I just wanted to stop the hurting and thought that might do it.

It never did.

And it never cured the loneliness, not even when we were fucking, they always thinking they were special, were the one that would break this ice-queen’s shell.

Would rock my world.

But they all were turned away and in the end I was alone.

And so was I.

I found out three years ago.

Safety had never been the first thing on my mind, not even worrying or caring if I got pregnant, just seeing the darkness in me and wanting to fill it, so I can’t say I should have been surprised.

And maybe I wasn’t.

But then again we never see our end, even when it is right before us.

And by the time I found out, a matter of luck as much as anything else when my doctor asked me if I had been tested for it and then telling me I should do it to be safe, to be sure.

And the rest you know.

The vampire, the weapon was in me, was strong and had been there, within me, silent, waiting, for an untold time.

It could have been anyone.

It could have been anyone.

Does it matter though?

Does anything but that night so long ago?

The night they pushed me down the path that lead me to the vampire the lives deep inside me?

I have lain awake for months wondering that very thing, does it matter? And it does.

It does because, because…

Again, does it matter?

In the end I am alone. Alone with my curse, my vampire, my weapon.

They wanted to help me, wanted to understand what I was going through and wanted to help me but they could never save me and they never saw that.

No one can save me.

The Damned have no Savior.

And all that matters now is that the weapon is ready, the vampire is hungry, and I am almost out of time.

You can’t see it on my body, still slender, still smooth, but you can see it in my eyes, can smell it on my breath.

Death.

But they won’t see anything. Won’t smell anything.

And that’s what I am counting on.

That’s what I am counting on.

The funniest thing about it all really though is that they never seemed surprised to hear from me.

I had had to track them both down, not that they would go far, few like they ever manage to leave their old stomping grounds, do they?

But they they have the absolute gall to not be shocked to hear from me is something I hadn’t expected.

A hidden bonus I suppose.

I laugh now to think about it all.

Me, dressed in heels, thigh-high nylons, short black skirt and no panties, waiting like a vulture for the meal to arrive, and them coming to this shitty flea-trap thinking they are about to re-live their greatest night.

Are about to re-enact their great achievement.

Thinking all the while what all of their kind think she wanted it, I knew she wanted it.

And I am more than happy to let them think it.

Let them believe it.

As long as they show up.

As long as the evening ends with the four of us in bed, naked to one another – them, my vampire, and me.

It’s eager to meet them.

To meet the men that helped to create it.

And I am more than happy to oblige.

More than happy.

I fought with myself about this.

Wondering if it was right, if it wasn’t murder, if it wasn’t playing god.

But then the laughter fills my head and all doubts are gone and all that are left are the vampire and I.

Me and my weapon.

And there’s the knock I have been waiting for, and it takes so much not to smile, to laugh as the vampire laughs.

And I can’t wait to tell them the news, can’t wait to tell them of the gift I will have given them, and oh how we’ll laugh together.

Oh how we’ll all just laugh and laugh and laugh…

…csr…6.2.02…

Author: Chris Ringler

Writer, blogger, reviewer, artist, arts and cultural events coordinator, and semi-professional weirdo. Author of a heap of books from horror to fairy tale to kid's.

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