vampire // txt

chapter 2: don't cry over spilled milk

I must have dissociated since stepping away from the outside wall of the cafe because I'm standing at my apartment door not remembering the subway ride here. I unlocked with door with a jangle of keys that were zipped shut in a small pocket in my inside out pocket. With tight movements I set it down on the glass layered wooden counter, placed my broken phone in a pull out drawer, untied and slipped my shoes off, and walked through the tall and slender hallway to the bathroom. After taking my clothes off I spared no time between dropping them in the garbage can.

The water felt like it was taking unusually longer to heat up, but it must've just been my impatience to wash off the itchy blood. I watched the blood stream down into the drain. I continued to clean myself and dress in blue pajamas in silence. It may have only been the afternoon but my mind was begging to be shut off. Along with my body. I blankly stared at the ceiling of shadows from the sunlight peering through the top of the curtains. The roads were louder than at night and walls creaked from the activity of the constant moving of other residents. The ceiling slowly grew darker as what felt like minutes but I finally fell asleep before sunset.

Waking up with my body aches gone I rolled on my back, pleading to a God I never prayed to before that yesterday was just last night's dream. But it seemed my aching only moved to my mouth and God didn't send an angel to tell me it wasn't real like Joseph's cheating accusations on Mary. I pressed down on the teeth that hurt and felt a slight wiggle. Shutting my mouth shut I told myself it's only from not brushing my teeth enough. I struggled to make out the line of the curtain in my dark until a flickering lamppost revealed it. Sliding out from the sheets I unveiled the window to a familiar scenery of another apartment building. Curious, I went to the kitchen to check the time on my oven.

2:24

Now moving around, a hunger set in and before I realized I had the fridge open. Fruit, protein drinks, kimchi, and raw vegetables I haven't brought myself to eat since buying them long ago. The pantry didn't look any more appetizing either. Not even ramyeon or pre-made tteokbokki. Knowing I wouldn't be able to fall back asleep I purposely avoided looking at my phone and my bathroom garbage as I changed into grey sweats and a thin t-shirt. Grabbing a coat from my closet and putting on shoes I left my apartment with a growling stomach. 

The street was much more appealing and comfortable during the quiet of the night. Very few people are out this time. The ones that are often make for good entertainment as a drunk with the social anxiety of a mosquito. Yet I felt a new unease passing dark buildings with "closed" signs. The darkness no longer felt harmless. With a jingle of a bell and a "Welcome in." from the cashier I entered the convenience store hoping to find something less boring than my kitchen's choices. Strolling up and down the aisles I couldn't decide what I was craving but I was starving. I bought my go-to onigiri and my favorite soda. My feet took my back home faster than I intended but whether it was fear or hunger I didn't think too much. With a flick I turned the tv on and I sprawled out on the couch with food in hand and a blanket on my cold feet.

"My Demon?" I asked the empty room. I mean if it has my husband Song Kang of course I'll watch it. I always watch a drama on Saturday nights. It was normal for me. I'm still doing all my normal favorite things.

I'm normal.

I open the can of soda and take a bite of my onigiri. It tasted retched. Tasted as if I was licking the inside of a sewer pipe and spit it out before even chewing it. It was worse than expired poultry, bad meat, or Beomgyu's failed attempt at tiramisu when he found out I was homesick for my country's desserts. I take of gulp of my soda and gag, the pink liquid spilling over the living room table. I've never tasted piss but if I did it would have been whatever is in that can. Or acid. My face scrunches up at the vulgar taste and I rush to gulp down a cup of water from the fridge. There's still a tinge of it in my mouth but I sit back down and look at the labels of the can and onigiri. It wasn't expired. Either of them. I flip the kitchen light on and examine my food for any clues as if it was retrieved from the apartment complex's shared trash bin. But it looked completely fine, even pouring the soda in the sink there was nothing or no difference in color. It didn't make sense. I've bought these exact things at the exact place countless times.