The Reality of Unrealistic

5- Wesley Vex

SONG Salvatore, Lana Del Rey

WESLEY'S POINT OF VIEW

I saw her today, this morning. I know I would seem like a creep if she knew how much I thought about her. I can't get her off of my mind. It is dangerous to feel this way, because who—and what—I am, and especially since there can be a new threat every moment of the day.

I'm starting to think someone  followed me to town. There has been "animal attacks" ever since. The last attacks like these were in 1960, but there was no suspicion. I have a feeling this time may be different.

9:00 p.m.

I put on my leather jacket, and started to leave my Victorian home.

"Where are you going?" A female voice asked of me. It was Grace.

"Out."

"Vague. Like always. Someday I'm going to butter up your room floor, see how quickly you'll leave then," teased Grace.

Grace is my condescending and humorous, but wise sister. It's only us. We haven't had a family for a long time.

I lifted myself up from the ground and through the air, up to the roof, and sat next to her window. She never shuts the curtains completely and I'm able to watch her sleep. She looks just as beautiful when she's awake. I feel her energy radiating most with a happy aura when she's dreaming.

I know what she is feeling. I wish I could take away the pain she has when she's awake. I always have the choice to feel, unlike humans.

But if I were to take my emotions away, who knows what I'd do. I pity the others that think it's a riveting idea.

On the ledge I sat, slowly drifting away as my eyelids struggled to stay open.

Oh god. I hadn't noticed, she was awake now. I was almost falling asleep myself.

Her eyes glanced at me. They seemed to be glistening. She was like an angel. Even though she was sleeping, her hair was just the right kind of messy—if there was one.

She spotted me. 

None of us said a word.

She must've thought she was still in a dream. She was slowly walking toward the window, where I sat now tense. She lifted it up and her gaze bore into me. She didn't seem at all alarmed, but still in a dream-like state. Was she sleepwalking?

"Shin," she whispered, reaching toward my cheek with her small hand and placing a soft caress.

Her touch caused my skin to feel on fire. It's like electricity was flowing from her veins into my own. I felt withdrawal as she retreated to the middle of her bedroom.

Her dazed expression increased in intensity as she gracefully fell onto the white fur rug beneath her.

I couldn't get in to see if she was okay. The golden rule.

I had to leave immediately.

I ran home, thanks to inhuman speed, and searched through my journals. Journals that I've collected over the course of decades I've lived.

She said "shin". It couldn't just be an area of the leg. I've heard the word once before.

"Shin", I repeated, a word in Aramaic meaning consumer or destroy.

Could she know who I was? Why Aramaic?

Fourth day of high school.

I got to class and took my seat at our lab table. Adair was already there.

"Hey Wesley," she greeted.

"Hey... how are you doing?" I asked, not aware of what she remembered about last night.

"Fine, thanks," she smiled. 

She didn't seem to remember last night. Not seeing me, not saying anything, probably not remembering the touch. The touch that made my hunger harder to control.

I have to figure it out.