Читать книгу Delight In Cruelty - MD MD Geatriz - Страница 6

(Chapter 2)

I hated my job. I hated my job. I hated my job. Could I be any clearer? I get home from The Burger Factory every night, smelling like old, stale fries. I get home everyday and look around my third-hand apartment. From my tiny kitchen to the living room that fit one cat-scratched couch, a small, busted TV, and a coffee table that was falling apart. My room wasn't much better. My hard, lumpy, stained bed; my ruined, rain-warped desk, and a small closet that held my second-hand clothing. I made it all look half acceptable. Nothing about my life was what I saw myself having when I grew up.

In high school, I was top of my class and the most ambitious. Why can't I get a job to better support me? No time to learn new skills, no drive, nothing and no one to help me. I was always told to do what I loved and what I was good at. I'm good at fighting, good at hiding and above all, I'm good at killing vampires.

But none of that paid the bills. What would my parents have said? My mother was half-black, half-white. She died when I was a preteen. My father was of Mexican decent. He was still alive and taking care of my sisters. I wish I could go home…

"What time is it?" I spoke to myself. I had stayed up all night in thought. What a waste of a night. I squeezed in a quick shower and threw on my uniform. I went to work with a blank face and a wet ponytail. My shoulder-length, dark brown hair reminded me of Marlin, who liked the smell of my hair.

I only saw Marlin on rare occasions. He was an old man in a twenty-something year old body. People like me and Marlin didn't age like everyone else did. We drank and smoked constantly yet remained in perfect condition. I eat anything and everything yet I stay slender. I was average looking. I wasn't hideously unattractive, but I wasn't completely beautiful either. Everything about me said fragile, and I often worked it to my advantage.

I never slept. What was the point when I was already faster, stronger and more agile than others of my kind. ‘Others of my kind.’ What do I call us? Slayers? Hunters? Freaks? I often went back and forth. I looked around my small, ragged apartment while rubbing my temples. I got dressed to go out. Jeans, a plain, white t-shirt and black boots. I didn't need a jacket since I didn't get cold, but I wore one to blend in. I never forgot my cigarettes or gloves. Gloves just in case I needed to commit grand theft. I wouldn't leave prints… Like I said, I have to pay the bills.

Marlin was a great teacher. He taught me to watch my tracks and, if needed, to quickly evade. Stay out of sight and keep my head down. "Everyone holds a specific smell. Cigarettes hide that smell," he explained to me as he trained me years ago.

"Wouldn't the smoke dilute how we smell everything else?" I remember asking him.

"For a week or so but that's all." Marlin's medium-toned voice had the smallest hint of a French accent. I always wondered if he was originally from France. Few people noticed the accent unless they paid close attention.

"Why is it always the French making everyone smoke?" I remember joking with him.

"I'm American. My parents were French." He always corrected me.

"Why didn't they name you Michelle or something?" I asked.

"I wouldn't argue with them," he told me.

"Strict?" I asked.

"Dead," he corrected me again.

Anyway…

I walked and walked as I thought of nothing at all. Through the park meadow and past the grave yard, in a circle, and back to the park. I sat on the park bench in the middle of the meadow, just watching the sidewalks on the far side of the grass. I lit my cigarette. I started to smoke and smoked very slowly.

The night was quiet and calm. No vampires, no people. Just me and nature. Summer was leaving and autumn was closing in. Everything was beautiful, yet not cold enough to need a huge overcoat. I was thankful for that since fighting proved more difficult with a coat on. I continued to smoke slowly, enjoying the scenery.

I heard her frustrated march and smelled her perfume before I turned her way. I looked at my watch and saw it was one in the morning. I looked over my shoulder at her. Her blonde hair fell to her shoulders. I smelled her boyfriend, who reeked of other women. The girl's ripped, expensive jeans matched her expensive blouse and jacket. Nothing original or unique about this girl. She must have been a 'Britney' or a 'Jessica.' "Smoking is bad for you," the girl told me. I laughed.

"It keeps my sanity alive. That's good to me," I told her.

"This town is trying to become smoke-free," she said. One of those girls, huh?

"What's your name?" I asked her, taking another drag and throwing the butt at her feet. She stomped it out quickly.

"It's Ashley." She was frustrated with me. I pulled out another cigarette.

"Well... Ashley..." I laughed again. "There are more important things than smoking.”

"Yeah, like drugs," she was quick to answer.

"More important than drugs." I lit another cigarette.

"What's more important than drugs?" She sounded like a ditz. I wanted to slap her.

"It's the reasoning behind why people get high in the first place." I spoke with my hands, making a theoretical sphere. "The source. People who murder out of rage, and teen pregnancy from loneliness." I took a drag of my cigarette. "These problems need to be addressed at home," I explained and took another drag. Why did I have to be a chain smoker?

"This town prides itself in no teen pregnancy." Ashley tried to make herself sound smart now. Too late doll.

"Looks like you'll either be the first or be sent away like the rest." I took a long drag while staring her in the eye. I blew my smoke in her direction, hopped off the table and handed her my cigarette. "Go home before your parents find out from his parents." I patted her back. "And find a better habit than laying on your back," I told her and walked away.

*Sigh*

"Do you ever think of death?" I asked. "Why would I?" He looked me in my eyes questioningly. Marlin and I had this conversation a few years back late in the night. Both of us were in our pajamas already. I snuck him into my father's house when I was still in high school. I never slept and never knew why. I asked him questions while we smoked out the window. "Very little can kill me you know," Marlin told me.

"Do you worry for nothing?" I asked him.

"No. I have no need to worry and you shouldn't either. Without our family, we're damn near invincible. This is why we abandon our families, so we don't have worry," Marlin explained. We were mortal, and other than that, we were almost indestructible. Still able to be stabbed or shot, but within a night, we were ready for it again. In that, time is the only true 'dreaming' we know of.

"Why didn't I find out earlier about what I was?" I asked him.

"It comes as you mature," Marlin told me. He spent the entire night answering my questions. I was the best Marlin had come across, often faster and stronger than my opponents. I was always more skilled a fighter than any vampire I've fought so far. Yet even with all of my skills and the hard work I put into getting better, I still worked at The Burger Factory…

I had a plan. Though it would take weeks to perfect my plan, I was very excited. I was going to get dressed after work, get my cheap, banged up car and head over to the largest mansion in the county. I knew what I would be getting myself into.