Bloody Yell {Short Story}

Bloody Yell

They say love comes in all forms. My ex decided that meant all shapes and sizes -of hips, breasts, and asses- to be exact. But I should have known. With a name like Lorenzo and a mansion with turndown service, the walk of shame must have had its own hallway with a revolving back door.

Prick.

My best friend, Shantel, did try to warn me.

"You're in too deep, Zoey," she declared that fateful night, sipping her soda through a straw so her fangs wouldn't scrape the edge of her new glassware.

"That's harsh." Snagging the blue glass out of her hand, I countered, "Just drink some blood already. I'm tired of watching the death match between you and this straw." Picking the tube of plastic up between my fingers, I tossed it on the table. "You should be using paper instead of plastic anyway. Goddamn, you know better than anyone that we need to preserve our planet. What are we going to be standing on in two hundred years, a castle made out of water bottles and K Cups?"

"Don't change the subject." Shantel dropped the straw back in the glass and took a sip while I held it in my hand. "I'm trying to cut back on my blood and carb intake. My fangs will retract as soon as they get used to the new diet."

Shrugging, I said, "Suit yourself," and handed the half empty glass back to her.

"Where was I? Oh yeah, lose the douche."

"He's not a douche. And nobody uses that word anymore."

"Send the baloney pony back to his stable."

Even though I hadn't fed yet that night, Shantel managed to make me blush. Stifling a laugh, I shook my head. "Nobody should ever say that, either."

These were the moments that made me love Shantel. She could make me laugh when I felt most like crying. Why did Lorenzo always leave me crying? Noticing the change in my expression as I veered toward darker thoughts, she shook my knee in her hand.

"Hey, it will be okay. Everyone gets cheated on, even beautiful, amazingly smart, undead women like us. Drop Lorenzo. He's not a day over five hundred. Start fresh with someone who is at least old enough to remember Richard Coeur-de-Lion getting shot by that crossbow. Hilarious!"

"I hear you."

I should have taken her advice. Instead, I found myself sneaking into Lorenzo's mansion a few hours later, before sunrise. It seemed like a great idea after I had sucked a few drunk frat boys dry on Main Street between there and Shantel's house. Incidentally, blood does not "water down" long island iced teas and Jello shots.

And by sneak in, I actually just rang the doorbell. Frankie, Lorenzo's familiar, let me right in. He had yet to hear the tale of me walking in on Lorenzo with a drugstore bottle blonde in a downward dog pose wearing MY lingerie the night before.

I waited patiently for my ex to roll in as the sun kissed the horizon.

"Hey there, honey bear." I was sitting on top of his coffin, legs crossed, wearing my best bra. The one that gave the girls a little extra bounce as I spoke.

The flames from the lanterns cast our shadows across the room, appearing much more joyous than we had been in a long time.

"Zoey..."

He looked guilty.

"Lorenzo..."

"Baby, I tried to call you." His European accent irritated my senses. At one time, it had been a melody to my heart, playing until I thought I couldn't live without it in my soul. Now my soul seemed plenty full on its own.

Holding up my phone, I pressed missed calls. When his name failed to appear, I raised a curious brow in his direction. In a mock tone, I guessed, "Maybe my phone's broken. Is that it?"

"Must be," he said cautiously.

"Must be," I agreed all too quickly.

"What's that smell?"

I looked around the room. "One of the lanterns is leaking. You should really have Frankie fix that."

"I will."

Hopping off the coffin, I approached Lorenzo. He remained rigid, surely expecting a tantrum or fight. I gave him neither. He was only getting what he absolutely deserved.

Leaning in close enough to smell the musk of his cologne, I kissed his cheek. "I'll see myself out."

Slowly, he offered a soft, "Good night."

As I opened the door to his basement chambers, Lorenzo turned, face blank, watching as I mechanically said, "Good bye."

It hurt in the pit of my stomach to look upon his almond colored eyes, searching for love that had wasted away. I never expected them to reflect rot and ruin. That hurt one thousand times more than the pain he would be experiencing in a few minutes.

I pulled a pink zippo lighter from my pocket. Striking it with my finger, a tiny flame came to life. There was a catch in Lorenzo's breath as I dropped it onto the fluid I had dumped out of the lamp before he arrived.

Slamming the large door between us, I could hear him fighting to touch it. Of course I had sprayed the door thoroughly with holy water and minced garlic. There would be no escape. Lorenzo chose his fate when he broke my heart.

Screams turned to whimpers, and his fists banging against the walls soon subsided. The quiet was an echo of our love. Gone.

Frankie bounded down the stairs, a look of sheer terror across his face.

"What have you done?" he yelled. "He's dead. I can feel it. Our bond is broken."

He slid to the floor, huddled against the wall, crying.

We waited in silence for hours. I didn't dare fall asleep for fear Frankie would stake me out of pure spite. I could feel it in my bones when the sun waned in the sky, hanging heavy. That's when I opened the door to Lorenzo's chambers.

Frankie huddled close behind as I skirted the crispy, shriveled body that smelled like burnt KFC.

"He's gone," Frankie whispered.

I kicked Lorenzo's stomach.

"Don't!"

Ignoring Frankie, I kicked it again until the wasted shell of my fallen lover gave way to crimson goo. Reaching up to his heart through his open gut, I pulled something out.

Turning to Frankie, who fought the urge to faint, I said, "You haven't been around long enough to see all of our tricks." Cradled in my arms was an infant covered in Lorenzo's bad decisions. "You serve me now," I told Frankie. "You both do."

Looking down into the newborn eyes of bloodlust, I cooed, "You're mine now, Lorenzo. One way or another, baby."

Because love comes in all forms.