Catharsis [Novel]

THE FINAL CHAPTER

THE FINAL CHAPTER

            It has taken me nearly a month to regain enough strength to go into the world and begin hunting down the man who ended my life.  The dark man with the shotgun in that house will die, and it will be by my hands.

            After waking up in the closet with my friend as a cold, furry, deflated blanket on me, I realized that he had sacrificed his life so that I could live.  The energy he was able to give me was enough to stop my wounds from becoming mortal ones.  The nutrients he gave to me (He really had become quite healthy over those last few weeks.) closed up the open holes I had and allowed my body to begin the mending process.  It was a start, but it wasn't enough.

            When I finally awoke for good, I was ravenous and depressed; it turns out that isn't a good combination for me to be in.  As I lay in my darkened closet, I could feel my body repairing itself, and it was far from a pleasant experience.  The pain was good, though.  It focused me, and it helped me set a goal: find the man who did this to me.

            After a full day of self-pity and bone-knitting, I could feel my body was in desperate need of energy again.  I had used up everything Lazzy had given me, and I certainly wasn't going to stop with that and let his sacrifice be wasted.  He died so that I could live, and if I was going to live then it was something I would fully commit to doing.

            Not being strong enough to walk on my own yet, I crawled around the warehouse's open areas (both inside and out) until I was able to surprise and capture enough rats, birds and stray animals to get myself standing.  It wasn't a proud time for me, but I was motivated.  Their life essence was simply a means to an end.

            As soon as I was able to walk (Well, walk is a bit of an overstatement.  It was more of a lurching stumble than it was any kind of coordinated forward motion.), I took to the streets to take down larger prey.  For the first time since this awful, cursed life began in that dark alley with that creepy, old man, I was willingly hunting other humans.  Not drug dealers.  Not criminals.  Just random people who had the misfortune of being on the wrong street on the wrong night.  I had made a choice, and I'd be damned if I cared what it meant for my soul.

            Don't judge me too harshly, yet.  I didn't kill any of them (The first few times I drank, I almost couldn't stop myself from finishing them.  Regardless of my personal desire, the darkness almost forced me to commit murder.); I just used enough of their blood to get stronger and then I would leave them and move on.

            During this time, though, I did discover that after I fed on them, my victims would have no memory of it.  My attacks were always swift but gentle - I had no desire to hurt these innocents - and I learned that some chemical in my saliva would paralyze them and incapacitate them while I feasted.  It was almost...pleasant.  It helped assuage some of the guilt I felt about what I was doing.  Once I had had my fill (or just enough to not kill them), it was just a matter of licking their wound and letting my saliva coagulate it.  Waiting a few minutes (or blowing on it if I got impatient) would allow enough time to pass to almost completely heal the holes I had made in their skin.  It was amazing, and it has continued to fascinate me no matter how many times I do it.

            Once I had finished with my food supply (for that was what they were to me), I would leave them in the street where I had found them, and then I'd hide nearby to watch them until they awoke (I couldn't bring myself to just abandon them to the night and the real monsters who prowl out here.  I'd stay near them to make sure they were safe.).  Typically my wait was seldom more than a few minutes before the person would slowly - and quite groggily - shake themselves awake.  It was like watching a person react to an alarm clock when they had been deep in a REM sleep cycle.  I could tell they knew something was off, but they never freaked out upon awakening.  It was just a shaky rise, a rubbing of the head and neck and then a slow stumble on down the sidewalk.