in case i lose myself again
sometimes i think i'm happy here
sometimes, yet i still pretend
i can't remember how this got started
but i can tell you exactly how it will end
every day is exactly the same ~ nine inch nails
a piece of something i may sometime pick up again...it seemed to fit the theme, and this song was one that helped fuel the imagery, and plot...
***
the rules are basic, the processes routine, and the risks too numerous to list, or prepare for. the underlying goal is to get in, get what i can, and get out; the three g's, as banner coined them. there is not much to keep safe with, or to use as defense. the less i take along with me the better, less things to stand-out and create suspicion, and less weight to lug around with me as i crawl through passageways, and slip in and out of alleyways and buildings. the only thing i always take along is the wristband, black and somewhat inconspicuous, loaded with a built-in alarm that vibrates when i have reached the final window of time to turn and run back under; else i become either one of them, or dead.
sometimes they send me with a mapped out agenda. locations that seem random to me, but are most probably relevant to their before memories; places they wish visited so that they can touch their past vicariously through my reports. other times i am handed a crumpled up paper which contains various scribbles and handwritten marks, wish lists from those who have done something to please a radiant, and are given in return a chance to plea for a coveted item. the requests are typically something to satisfy an oral fixation, and easily found at a gas station mini-mart or abandoned convenience store; cigarettes, bottles of whiskey, snack foods, cans of carbonated drinks. other, more obscure requests, are a bit trickier to fulfill. packages of condoms, tampons, pens and notebooks, medication, diapers, clothing. sometimes these require breaking and entering a dwelling, or taking the risky drop into department and drug stores that still function with full staffs, and the above residents. i tried to keep my interractions with them as infrequent as possible, and limit to only a few at a time, most preferably a one on one encounter. busier streets, residential destinations, and popular spots are places i avoid, but sometimes the expectation requires greater risk.
the trick is to spot them before they spot me, to play the curious victim, the enamoured human who finds their notoriety and bloodlust sexy, aspirational, and cool. i let them think they are the seducers, the controlling hand, the great hypnotizer and romantic leading me astray. i let them touch me, pull at my clothes, spread my legs; i let them take me into dark spaces, backseats of cars, seedy hotel rooms, or sometimes their own beds. most often the idea of sex is just part of the game, their arousal seems to come second to the pulsing need for blood. most often it is a quick transaction, a little flesh shown, a few words of feigned resistance, a quickened heartbeat that shows on the skin, and then they are too far gone to stop. i rarely lose control of the situation, even if it is completely oblivious to them, i can spot when their hunger will overtake them, and i can count in my head when it will be almost too late to live, when the time to push off and get the hell out has come, leaving them in a dizzy state that paralyzes them briefly in a sated haze of bliss.
there are a few that are harder to disentangle from, the ones that i seek to avoid, that become part of my red flag warning lists. the sadists are skewed souls who like to toy with their victims, make it a game of wits and losses, taking things from them slowly, the twists of torture an appetizer to the main course. they are known to bleed you for days, tying you up and bringing in friends and co-horts to watch, or join in. i have heard of mazes built in factory warehouses, and lofts, that they will put captures in; playing a life-size cat and mouse game, traps laid into the ropes and pathways. i have no intention of being a vampire's glorified chew toy.
six hours is nothing to the sadists, having one of them as my captor would be a surefire way to never return again. it is the thought of them that motivated me to bring the vials along. a stolen idea from the old films my grandfather would watch every sunday afternoon when i was a child. i would curl up on the couch, happy to be in the vicinity of someone who actually loved me, never caring that it meant sitting through any world war retelling ever projected on a screen.
the soldiers used to carry poison along in case they became a prisoner of war, or worse yet taken by the hands of a torturer who would probe and prod them for secrets. a shot of death to take away what would most likely have ended in death anyway, just a slower form. i keep one tucked in a hidden pocket in case of a sadist capture, or if i decide it is all enough. it grants me a rush of confidence to have this kind of control hid away, makes all that is so far out of my hands seem more palable, and easier to bear.
the coveters can be just as dangerous. the ones who were turned without acceptance, or desire; the ones who still remember their former selves and want it back. they are envious of the human condition, even in its state of catastrophe, and want to hover close to it, embrace it, fall in love with it. instead of a victim you become a glorified pet, or stuffed doll, for them to pet and take home, and aid in humanizing their reality. they would keep me well past the six hours, as well. love me to death like some kind of five year old trying to touch their goldfish, and hold it in their hands.
six hours is what they told me. i am still unsure how they determined the time; whether it is just a guess, educated or otherwise, or if there is logic to the parameters in place. six hours from the moment of being bit, six hours to be mistaken as one of them, six hours to exist inbetween the teetering balance of human and monster, six hours to absorb all that i can about what goes on, and steal anything i can tote back to the group, six hours to suvive. to get back. to go through the torture again, slip into a comatosed zone of sleep, then start it all up, all over again. i have never missed a return, i have never pushed the limits of time, i have never messed with the deadline until this night.
he has a way of making me forget all about the time.
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