Dracula's Secret

10

(A/n: This story is so going nowhere. But I'm gonna take it straight to Hell.)

I was walking back to my car from Remington's house, thinking about what he'd said. I don't know which was worse, the fact that he believed that life was of little value, or the fact that he thinks that he's related to Dracula. A wind blew through my hair, but it felt as though it touched no other part of my body. That's strange. I went to take an inhale, but found myself struggling. It felt like something was gripping my throat, and squeezing. 

I can't breathe.

I can't breathe.

I reached for my throat, and pulled the nonexistent force away from myself. I was almost going to black out. In an instant, the sensation stopped. I gasped for air desperately. What the fuck was that?! I pulled my hands away from my throat, and saw that they were covered in some sort of black substance.

No, not black. Really, really dark red. Almost like.....blood. But that can't be! My blood isn't that dark, or thick. I should know, I've gotten scrapes and cuts enough times running around on stage. And I've cut myself tuning before too, but that's a long story.

I reached into my pocket and found my phone, with it, I opened up my camera so that I could see where on Earth this blood-like substance on my hands had come from. When I looked at my reflection, I was almost sick. My neck did look like a knife had been thrown against it, and haphazardly cut in all sorts of random places. 

I couldn't think about how illogical this was though, because I was suddenly attacked by a migraine, and then a faint feeling.

And then I passed out.

When I came to, I was found in a hospital, Chris was looking at me with concern. "I've been trying to reach the others, but Vinny's the only one who's answering. He's on his way."

I tried to speak, but found myself unable to. I clutched at my throat, and found bandages there. Chris handed me a notebook and a pen. I guess he knows that I can't speak. I wrote out something for him. 

What happened?

"They found you, lying on the pavement of a driveway, and your neck was bleeding a bit. There was no sign of the weapon though."

Is it deadly?

"No, but your vocal chords are going to take a weak before you can have some kind of recovery. You may sound like you have a very bad case of laryngitis at first."

Who did this to me? Was it Remington?

"I already told you, there was no weapon. It was as though you were cut by the air or something."

From the back or the front?

"The front."

That's the direction that the wind was blowing. What did he do to me? I couldn't think of anything to write though, because I don't want to end up in a mental hospital after this. I don't belong there. 

There was a harsh knock on the door, but before anyone else could open it, it opened itself. Or, rather, Vinny barged in. "What happened? Is he okay? Can he speak?"

I wanted to answer every question as quickly as Vinny had asked them, but it was difficult in my situation at the moment. I held up my hand to get him to slow down. I held up my notepad to show him how I could have to communicate. His mouth formed an 'o,' and then he sat down. 

I quickly scribbled in the notepad. I don't know what happened. It didn't feel real, really. I think I'm okay. And no, I cannot speak.

He nodded his head. "Will you ever speak again?" I nodded. "That's a relief. I think that I'd miss you if you couldn't talk."

I chuckled, but only the sound of air came out.

"He doesn't need to talk, he's the guitarist," Chris pointed out.

I wrote something else. Yeah, who does backup vocals at shows? And gets all the ladies? I wiggled my eyebrows as I showed it to them. 

Both of them snorted. "Whatever you believe, Ricky. Whatever you believe," Chris told me. 

A doctor entered the room, but simultaneously, the mood left. They checked my vitals, asked me if I was feeling any pain. (I'd imagine that they'd either given me the world's strongest painkillers, or numbed my neck, because I didn't really feel much of any pain right now.) After a few head nods, and shakes, I was back alone with Chris and Vinny again.

But somehow, I still felt like this whole thing was all Remington's fault. I can't prove it, but I know that it's true somehow.