Egbert

I warned you it was dark

I don't return to Vikram's house. I t seems unnatural to go from the extreme of my situation to the calming normality of his home. I'm sprawled out on my bed, stomach flat against the soft mattress and face pressed into my cushion. I've agreed to throw my life away in exchange for what? It's the best thing to do for everyone- but me. No, even me. This is right. I'll learn to control my powers and put Vikram out of harm's way. With any luck he'll forget about me, marry some handsome rich guy and have lots of mini Vikrams. And Scarlett too. She's nothing to me though. Just a girl I glimpsed. It's illogical and stupid to pine over someone I've barely had a conversation with, so why am I doing it? Even a loud crash from downstairs isn't enough to jolt me from my self-pity. Mother and Father are probably celebrating my compliance. After years of being their shitty rebellious human loving son, they've managed to threaten the rebellion from me. Human loving will take a while for them to stomp out but I assume it comes with age and experience. Humans are a conflicting little bunch; give it enough and time I'll end up hating them more than they hate themselves.

It's not until the evening red streaks across my window that I finally stir. The house is silent save for some rustling. And I'm hungry now. I flatten my hair and make my way downstairs, relishing the cool stone floor against my naked heels. Instant regret replaces that relishing when I walk into the kitchen with bare feet. I should have smelt it at the very least. A circle of expanding crimson crawls towards me and engulfs my big toe before I jump back. Blood is a slippery substance. I land butt first on the floor, gracefully smacking my head against the fridge and falling back against the door frame. The maid is lying down on the black kitchen island, her face dangles off the edge as do her arms, and a rough, red gash covers each one. Her breathing is shallow and fading. In the midst of the room mother sits cross legged in the pool of the blood leaking from her arms. She's been drawing crude little figures from her blood on the side of the counter like it was a whiteboard and the blood her marker. There's an ominous smiley face next to what appears to be a unicorn riding a skateboard.

"You took ages Egbert. I assumed once you got the whiff of blood you'd come running down. Now look what you've made me do. First it was a little nick, now it's a Nicholas."

I wish I could say I'm in shock but honestly I've seen worse. From behind her she hands me a crystal glass filled to the brim with the thick cherry liquid. I heave a sigh and take it from her, careful not to let it slip as she smears the residue of her paint across it. As I down the glass I can feel it coursing through me. I've had blood before, never such a copious amount and while it does have its benefits it doesn't taste appetising. To be completely honest it has a watery texture and leaves an iron after taste. But damn it if it isn't the best thing for its after effect alone. My pupils dilate, every single detail in the room I didn't notice before had now been caught by my beady eye. Sound is amplified. The silence is replace by the quiet whistle of the world moving around me, from the hum of the fridge to cars miles away. I feel as if I could lift twice as much as my own weight- though I don't actually weigh that much so it's not a particularly impressive feat. All this and more just about makes it worth it. But all this and more makes me realise why it isn't worth it. The quiet hum of the world is joined by the slight ache of muscles as the maid manages to turn her head a fraction to look me in the eye. I notice every inch of her now. From her greying face to her emptying wrists, she had the smallest freckles on her cheeks. Her eyes are brown, I didn't realise that before. They always looked so black, but no, they're brown. The little bits of chocolate are flecked all around her pupils, intertwining with the darkness. She blinks. I t doesn't matter what colour they are now, because they're lifeless.

"You took too long." Mother repeats. "Tardiness has a price Egbert." She doesn't linger too see my reaction, to the death or to the blood. Instead she lifts herself as if invisible hands carried her and brushes past me, imprinting wine tinted footsteps as she glides away.