The Guily Ones

The Wiking in my Bathtub

Of course – to no ones real surprise – Bill showed up again, all covered in dirt with a wistful look in his eyes, surrounded by an air of urgency.  And of course, I was in the way of their spectacular reunion.

I had toyed with the idea of shouting, 'Get a room!' to them, but then it occurred to me that I was technically the one standing in their rooms, so I, unnoticed by the two of them, decided to make my way home.

The very first thing I did (other than Bill) was take a hot shower. Dried blood flowed from my hair into the drain, staining everything around me deep red. Luckily, I had spent half the day almost dead in the garden, therefore missing a few meals as a result, so when my stomach revolted at the sight, I mainly dry heaved and shuddered. A metallic smell spread throughout my entire bathroom no matter how much soap I used, so I took shallow breath and hurried my shower along to leave the room as quickly as possible.

Despite my near-death experience, the late hour and the nauseating shower, all in all, I felt surprisingly refreshed. My normally lazy self was actually considering going for a run. At half past 3 in the morning. Well I kind of was already dressed for the occasion...

Since feeling far too wired to crawl into bed and therefore my pajamas, I had opted for my three-quarter sport leggings and sports bra, which were used much more as a chill outfit than for their actual purpose, a workout. In general, I had been neglecting my combat training quite a bit over the past few weeks, but after the events of said weeks, I couldn't really blame myself. It's not like I didn't have other things to do – like die and be resurrected or some shit. I shuttered at the thought for multiple reasons. one or two of them maybe being a result of a millennia old vampire blood pouring through me. I felt restless and guilty, so I sat angrily on my rundown sofa, the remote already in hand. My plopping down on the sofa rewarded me with a fit of coughing, triggered by a cloud of dust rising from the cushions.

"Okay, that's enough!"

I turned all the lights in my little bungalow on, turned up the music, and filled a bucket with water and cleaner. Since all my hair ties seemed to have disappeared again, I wrapped the next best thing, a checkered cloth, around my head to keep my hair out of my face. And then, looking like a 1950s housewife, I actually started a three o'clock in the morning deep-clean.

In hindsight,  I should have noticed that my behavior was completely unlike me, but there were still too many other thoughts flying around in my head like ping pong balls. The adrenaline-induced dream of my parents just wouldn't let go of me. Plus, I was worried about what Sookie had promised Eric in return for his rescue. God, the girl needed to learn to keep her mouth shut!

What I initially promised myself what I should do with Eric was slowly becoming an overwhelming task, and the more I saw of him, the more opaque he became. I caught myself trying to explain and excuse his behavior, and I didn't like where this was going at all. I could practically see my feelings toward him changing. I had never been a cold-blooded killer, but I had thought that my months of distorted hatred would take me there. However, my hate, the fuel for my vengeance, was withering away more and more with each passing day, while my inappropriate fascination with the man, the vampire, grew stronger.

And then there was still the problem of James, which I had almost completely forgotten about. Although he behaved quietly for the moment, I knew him well enough to know that this would not remain the case. James was cunning, dangerous, and ruthless. He always got what he wanted. And he, unlike me, would gladly kill for that.

I sighed heavily and intensified the almost manic scrubbing of my sofa. Maybe it would be wiser to pack my things and just disappear. To abandon my plans and start a new life... again. Maybe as a Megan. Otherwise, I had always liked the name Charlaine...