Vampire Sunrise

Decatur Street

Thoughts about the past due rent pressed against my head like a shotgun's steel barrel. What in the hell was I going to do? I closed my eyes, rubbed them both with balled-up hands, and then looked at the clock sitting on the nightstand; it was 7:45 am. I didn't sleep again.

A siren sounded outside and helped welcome in the new morning, along with all the other sounds cars and people made. Above me coming from the third floor, I heard a fast, repetitive thud. It reminded me of someone doing jumping jacks but was probably something rough and much more personal.

Nobody would consider the Decatur Blood Bank Apartments "nice," not by any stretch of the imagination. My partially furnished apartment was in the low-income district of New Orleans on Decatur Street and had an actual blood bank on the first floor. I couldn't help but let a sigh slip through my pursed lips in an almost inaudible huff; everything about my life was so infuriating.

Yesterday, I thought about jumping off my apartment building's roof, and it was probably the best idea I've had in months. My only concern was what would happen to Buddy, and if I was honest with myself, he was the only thing that stopped me.

Buddy was a spangled short-haired stray cat that, for some strange reason, wanted to hang out with me. I didn't know for sure, but my best guess was he liked how my raspy voice sounded out his name.

I always did my best for Buddy but was sure he got disappointed when I had nothing to feed him.

The day Buddy found me, he came to my front door with blood-soaked speckled green and yellow eyes and a puffy face. It looked as if someone had tried to strangle the cat with a wire clothes hanger. A thin, bloody ring encircled his scrawny neck.

I imagined, hopefully, that the bloody ring was because his collar got hung on 'something,' and that same 'something' caused the ring-looking injury when he struggled free. Still, knowing how things were around here, the clothes hanger scenario was probably closer to the truth. Regardless of how he got injured, his ragged growl and pitiful purr melted my heart.

I was going through one of my lower than ordinary moments when he arrived, and without question, he was the ray of sunshine that brought me through it. Being alone for so long had made me rigid and hardened. I forgot I could still feel anything.

I made a deal with Buddy; If I couldn't feed him, I didn't eat either; that was the rule. Buddy put up with me despite the missed meals, and to me, that was loyalty, something I rarely encountered or gave. I needed to find someone to take care of him, and the sooner, the better because I didn't have much time.

"Knock, Knock, Knock," sounded on my raggedy front door, as if someone weren't using their knuckles to knock, but instead, the meaty part of their fist. The thumping immediately brought me out of my inner monologue.

"Who is it?" I yelled.

"Alice, it's Allen, the superintendent. Your rent was due yesterday, and I know you're sick, but we don't have a grace policy. You got till five to pay your rent, or I'm going to have you thrown out, and don't try to pay with your blood; I know you failed the screening." He spoke in a husky, out-of-breath voice as if walking up the one flight of stairs pushed the limits of his physical capabilities.

I cleared my throat then said, "Why are you at my door banging on it like you're the sheriff? I've never been late, and I don't appreciate you beating on my door. I'll get you the damn money, now go away, I'm going back to bed."

I usually slept during the day, but strangely, I found it harder and harder to sleep at all over the last week. Yesterday was another failed attempt.

I knew Allen had tromped away from my door when I heard the popping and creaking staircase straining to support him. I blew out a stress-releasing sigh when he was gone but had no idea how to get the money for my rent before five.