Dracula's Secret

2

Remington's POV:

It began on a strange day in March. Well, it really began when I was born. I think that I noticed it when I was five or six. But it didn't truly begin until that strange day in March. 

I've got a dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty little secret.

So I was sitting around, reading a book called Dracula. In said book, there was writing in the margins. I'd gotten it at a book drive, so for there to be any damage to the book was believable. The writing spoke of Dracula's one heir. Curious, I grabbed my phone and looked it up. I got many search results and theories about the heir. Some conspiracies suggested that Dracula was real. I rolled my eyes at those. However, all of the theories said one thing. And the thing that they said was that Dracula had one child, a daughter. That daughter was rumored to have one child of her own. 

I do so wonder if anyone has ever figured out who those people are. 

There was suddenly a knock on my door. I wasn't expecting company. And Emerson and Sebastian both had keys to where we lived. It would be weird if one of them were knocking. I went over to the front door and opened it, careful to know if it were someone that it wasn't supposed to be. Interestingly, all that was on my doorstep was a package wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. I picked the package up and brought it inside. I wonder who left this here? I untied the string and took the paper off. Inside was a book called Gloom, by someone with a name that I was sure I'd heard before. Ricky Olson? I looked him up, and found that I had, in fact, met him and therefore should definitely know him.

And so I read the first story in the book, and was left in confusion. Why was I left this book? I went to turn to the next story, but found that the rest of the book was completely blank. I could feel it happening again already, by the way. That stupid process that's been happening for as long as I can remember. It almost makes me feel badly for calling him now. Nonetheless, what's got to happen has got to happen. I called Ricky.

We had a conversation about the story in his book. I mentioned the fact that the remainder of the book was blank, and he seemed confused. I felt one of those immense headaches coming on, so I hung up on him. 

There was a flash of light in front of my eyes, and suddenly I was in Ricky's house. Nice little place that he had here. I walked downstairs and then opened the refrigerator to get his attention. I really do hate to do this to him. Ricky came to the refrigerator and closed it, still not seeing me. And so I called him again. "I've got a secret," I whispered into the receiver. 

There was a lot of feedback on his end. He pulled the phone away from his ear.  I walked behind him and opened my mouth. "Hiya!" I called. He spun around and shouted something that I didn't quite understand. He backed away from me, but I followed him and appeared behind him once more. He asked how I was doing it, and then another flash of light appeared. 

And I was back at my own house once more. I rushed to the bathroom in my house and found that my face was covered in blood. I got a towel from the closet and cleaned myself of the substance. I fucking hate my life. I opened my medicine cabinet and found a bottle of pills. Alright, Angel Dust, do your stuff. I forced a generous amount into my mouth and waited for them to take effect. Apparently, it's really strong stuff and should be taken in extreme moderation. 

But when you get a tolerance for something, then it doesn't really matter so much, now does it?

I walked out of the bathroom and went to the sofa once more, waiting for the effects to take hold of me and get this other dreaded feeling out of my whole system. They came over me easily. It feels so much better when I'm high. If you don't know the feeling, you're missing out. 

I was still in the middle of my trip when there was a knock on my door. Who could that possibly be this time? I walked up to the door, trying to stumble about the moving setting without breaking anything important. I opened the front door and saw a blurred figure with long hair standing there. I giggled. "Who are you?"

"I came all of the way here to find out that you're high?" The person asked. 

"Ricky?" I asked, finally seeing who it was. "Do you wanna come in?" I asked the question, still only scarcely aware of what was going on. 

He hesitated, not quite sure which way he wanted to go with this. "How long have you been like this?"

I snorted. "An hour."

"And how long does it last?"

I shrugged. 

"Alright then, I guess that it can't hurt to come in." He walked inside and took my house in for a moment. "Decent place." I closed my door. The moment it shut, he grabbed my shoulders and shook me. "What the fuck did you do to me?! Why were you there?! Why did you call me?!"

I laughed, still not quite here. "You talk too loud."

He rubbed his temples. "Why do I even bother?"

I waved my hand dismissively. "It's just a little bit of fear. It won't hurt you."

"Fear?! I'm not afraid of you!"

"You sound afraid of me."

"I've just never seen a person do that."

"Maybe I'm not a person." I laughed after I spoke. It was a ludicrous suggestion, and even a child would find it as such. Ricky at the very least should know that much.

He rolled his eyes. "I guess I'll just have to wait for you to sober up."