Grayson Snaps

Chapter 5: Vans & Dope

Chapter 5: Vans & Dope

It takes approximately 50 minutes for me to clean Grayson's wounds. I use regular alcohol and salt water; instead of taking a shower (the thought of him falling makes me feel sick) we opt for the bath instead. Helping peel away the sticky clothes feels like peeling away the skin of an onion-a bloody, torn up onion. Layer by layer, it slides to the cold tile. I grab a trash bag from under the sink and stuff his coat, blue jeans, boxers, and shirt inside. Pulling on a pair of sweats and a loose sweatshirt, Grayson just about passes out; now I am sitting on his bed, my back resting against the metal headboard. Mom and Dad got home a couple hours ago, but Grayson and I were already in our room by then, so they didn't see us.

Grayson's head rests in my lap, his hand curling against my thigh. He's totally limp, his hair still damp. He's curled up to me. I listen to his breathing, feeling his warmth. Every once in a while, I'll put my fingers to his throat to make sure there's still a pulse although I know there has to be one; he's making these little noises in sleep.

It's about 1:00 in the morning. My heart is still thudding in my chest and I think maybe I'll get PTSD from the whole experience. I mean that's normal, right? I'm too awake to fall asleep.

I am trying to pry my camera open with a screw driver. I twist and turn. You see, the polaroid picture is stuck. With my fingers, I dig into the hard metal, prying the picture up and out of the sleeve. It's slightly crumbled.

Dropping the screwdriver onto the bed, I smooth away the filmy surface.

Grayson's head shifts slightly in my lap; he's making a small, distressed sound. I grab onto his shoulder and gently rub up and down.

What I'm looking at is half a face. It's slightly blurred in motion; the pupil is completely dilated. Thick, dark fur. Sharp, deadly teeth peek out from gums that are so black they almost look blue.

And there's one amber eye, burning with a raw, primal hunger that sends a shiver up my spine.

-

"Preying upon normal, healthy cells, the intruder gradually devours the host from within."

I'm sitting in Biology looking at a documentary. Today the biopic is over how parasites infect their hosts. How interesting! Not. Everyone looks like they are about to fall asleep, even our instructor up front appears to be nodding off. The sunlight tries to peek its head from the windows by my desk, but the curtains have been drawn nice and tight, completely blocking any light out.

"Eventually, the invader consumes its host completely."

On the screen I turn and watch as a microscopic parasite consumes its host cell whole. There's a chill to the classroom although I don't know why. Maybe they just forgot to turn on the heater.

"And finally...destroys it."

Anyway, when I woke up this morning, Grayson was still asleep. I had finally fell asleep in his bed after a couple hours. I woke up at our regular time and although I tried to check his wounds when I shook him awake, he wouldn't let me touch them. If anything, Grayson looked sick this morning. When we came upstairs for breakfast, Mom didn't pay attention to either one of us. Maybe it was the counseling session last night. Who knows? I don't think she meant to ignore us, but she was just so busy for once and Grayson can hide his discomfort well when he wants to.

I glance over at Grayson now: his elbow is propped up on the desk. He blinks a few times. He then folds his arms and practically falls headfirst onto the wood, groaning lowly.

He looks like shit.

I bet I don't look any better with how much sleep I got, but he really does look like shit. There're dark circles under his eyes and his skin is pasty. I swear it looks like he's had the flu for the past week.