On the Edge of Humanity (2 page)

Victim be damned.

Cliff’s breathing grew heavier as he reached the edge of my bed. The hairs at the nape of my neck stood at attention. I grabbed the wooden handle of the corkscrew when his hand touched my ankle. I froze. His hands were the size of bear paws, with rough calluses scraping my bare skin.

“Sweet Jo,” he whispered. His breath reeked of alcohol. As the heat from his breath sprayed towards me, I tried to erase the image of his jagged teeth and crud lodged between them.

His hand stopped and air seeped under the blankets. What was he doing?

I gripped the corkscrew tighter, my hand shaking uncontrollably.

Do it now.

A cold breeze blew in through the cracked window in-between my bed and the full-length mirror. The moonlight radiated in, casting a glow around the room. Just what I needed—more light.

With my body still as a board, I peered through the mirror, and the glint of a blade next to my leg reflected in the distance.

I closed my eyes when the cold steel blade touched my leg, and I gasped.

“Jo, I have something for you,” he whispered.

I spun around, aiming for his face, but he jumped back. His left arm got in the way and I jabbed in the corkscrew as hard as I could.

“You want to play rough, little girl?” He pulled the corkscrew from his arm and threw it to the floor. “Well, let’s play.”

Blood dribbled out of the stab wound, glistening in the soft light of the bedroom.
Bleed
,
pervert, bleed.

My hopes were cut short when he lunged for me. I rolled off the bed and my left elbow broke my fall. The corkscrew lay inches from me. I reached out to grab it when he stepped on my hand.

I looked up at him. “Fuck you!”

“Big words coming from a little girl.”

“Does your wife know you rape sixteen-year-old girls? Do boys make the cut too?”

“I’ll show you how I treat little girls.” His claws grabbed me by my shoulders.

My feet dangled. I threw a left kick, making contact with his precious jewels. He let go and I fell to the floor. I scooted back, hitting the dresser. He lunged for me again, only this time he had the knife pointed right at me.

My vision blurred then a sharp pain hit me on my left side. I grabbed my rib. A sticky warmth trickled down. I looked up. The knife in Cliff’s hand was dripping with blood.

“You asshole! You stabbed me!” I tried to rise but my knees wobbled and the pain soared through me as if he were stabbing me over and over again.

He knelt down and his hot breath caressed my ear. “I’m not done with you yet.”

I inhaled, trying to breathe, when the fragrance of my own blood wafted through the air, imparting a delicious, sweet scent of vanilla. Why did my blood smell this sweet?

I blew out the air in my lungs and blinked a few times, hoping this was all a dream. But when I opened my eyes the beast was still there, a smug look painting his face.

I kicked, trying to fight my way out, which only caused his insolence to grow.

“Where ya going, sweet thing?” His voice oozed with slime. “There’s nowhere to run.”

“If you don’t get off...”

“What? What’re you going to do? Kill me…with a corkscrew?” He let out an evil laugh.

He was right. I had no way to get past him. He was six feet tall and weighed two hundred and fifty pounds. I didn’t have a chance in hell. He grabbed both my legs and pulled me toward him. My head hit the front of the dresser. Then he brought the knife up to my left cheek and began tracing the outline of my face.

I sucked in air and held it, afraid to move. I was sure I had one of those deer-in-headlights look.

“You’re a beautiful creature, you know. And those strikingly silver eyes of yours are—”

I spat in his face.

“You’re going to regret that,” he said, wiping my spit from his mouth.

My vision flickered in and out and I blinked. When the haze cleared, my brother Sam was standing in the room with a baseball bat in his hands and a murderous expression etched on his face.

With the knife now pinned to my left cheek, Cliff’s head spun around. “Don’t try it, lad, or your sister’s pretty face will—”

A door in the house slammed shut.

Sam gripped the bat with both hands, as if he were standing behind home plate waiting for the pitcher. “Take the knife away from her face,” he growled.

“Come any closer, kid, and I will carve your sister’s face up. She’ll look like the Bride of Frankenstein when I get done with her.”

The tip of the knife punctured my cheek and warm liquid oozed out. I drew in a breath as I raised my hand to my face. The pain stung me as if I had just pissed off a bumblebee.

What the fuck is happening?

Sam lunged at Cliff.

Cliff whirled his head towards me, with his eyes bulging from their sockets, and drove the knife into my cheek. Pain shot through me and my eyes watered, the salt from my tears stinging as it seeped into the cut. I froze, trying to bite back the pain and not scream. If I moved even a tiny bit, the blade would do more damage.

Then the bat connected with Cliff’s head, sounding as if Sam had just hit a home run. Cliff shrieked so loud that it reverberated throughout the room and the walls vibrated. I held my breath, praying he would let go of the knife. But it was too late. He dropped his hand, pulling the knife with him, and the blade sliced through my skin.

I wailed as the blood gushed down my cheek spilling into my mouth. I didn’t know what to process first, the pain or the fact that I liked the taste of my own blood.

I placed my hand over my cheek and stood up. My legs trembled. I used the dresser as an anchor to support my body. As I glanced around the room, all I could see was Sam standing over Cliff with blood dripping down the bat.

Then Sam shouted, “Jo, don’t pass out. I’ll be right there.”

My arms were shaking. I couldn’t hold myself up much longer. Blackness filled my peripheral vision. As it grew darker around me, someone squeezed my hand.

“Sam?”

“It’s me, Jo,” he said.

“I’m sorry, I tried…I tried to take care of myself and protect you,” I said as tears streamed down my cheeks.

“Shh,” he said. He ripped off his t-shirt and placed it over my left cheek.

“What’s happening to me? The blood… I want more blood.”

“Everything’s going to be fine,” he replied.

I vowed revenge against the disgusting beast as the light around me flickered in and out. And then it was dark.

Chapter 2

M
y eyes fluttered open and
blinked a few times. I shivered. Where was I? The temperature in the room felt like a walk-in freezer. I wiggled my feet to wake up my toes. I couldn’t tell if they had fallen asleep or if they were frostbitten under the thick layer of blankets on top of me.

I drew in a breath, the air burning my insides as it seeped deeper into my lungs. The scent of alcohol hung in the air. I tried to raise my upper body, but the pain on my left side stopped me. I tried again, only this time I lifted just my head and scanned the room.

As the cloud of haze grew thin, different noises peppered the room. A beeping sound dominated my left ear and voices whispered somewhere near me.

Am I in a hospital? How did I get here? Where’s Sam?

Two people stood at the bottom of the bed, their backs toward me. From what I could tell it sounded as if they were arguing.

The man in the doctor’s coat said, “No, it can’t be.”

“I ran it three times,” said the nurse in blue.

“Well, run the test again. It’s impossible. Her blood type can’t be ‘AF’ negative.” The man speaking wore a red and white cap that covered his head and his voice had a velvety tone as if I were listening to a song by Josh Groban. A sliver of a tattoo peeked out on the back of his neck just below his cap.

I squinted. It appeared to be some sort of symbol, but I couldn’t quite make it out. My eyes were still adjusting to my surroundings.

“Dr. Case, I’ll have her blood tested again, but the outcome will still be the same,” the nurse said.

Were they talking about me? Were they talking about my blood type? I think I was the only one in the room. A brown door with the word
bathroom
on it appeared in the distance. An alcove framed a small window to my left with blinds that were creased together. On my right, a curtain separated the room in half and an IV pole stood tall next to me. The only people in the room I could see were the doctor and the nurse. Maybe Sam was on the other side of the curtain and they didn’t want me to see him.

Then it occurred to me. Was Cliff dead? Maybe he was in the bed next to me.
Oh shit!
I tried sitting up, slowly this time, but the pain in my ribs was still there. I took in a breath and another burning sensation slithered down inside me. I touched my left side, then my right. I was wrapped in a thick layer of bandages. Blood rushed to my face. The pain on my left cheek pierced through me as if the knife were slicing through me all over again. I winced and my heart raced as if it were trying to beat an opponent to the finish line.

Suddenly, the monitor near my head accelerated and chirped frantically. The nurse approached.

An object in the distance thudded to the floor. The room went silent except for the monitor, which was still belting out a fast cadence in line with my heartbeat.

A door opened. The heels of someone’s shoes scuffed against the tile floor as leather rustled together. A tall black man appeared around the curtain dressed in dark blue pants, a light blue shirt and a leather jacket with a badge on the outside.

“Is there a problem in here? I thought I heard a bang,” the officer said. He walked up to the bed, scanning the room, and his gaze rested on the bathroom door.

I silently recited the Hail Mary, praying Sam wasn’t in the room. The monitor slowly decelerated. My heartbeat slowed and my brain screamed,
Amen
.

Why was there a cop outside the door? I didn’t do anything wrong. Maybe Hilda told the cops something different. But how would she know? She didn’t come to my rescue.

I closed my eyes and dipped back into my memory. The sensation of Cliff slicing the knife through my cheek sent a chill down my spine. I opened my bottom jaw and moved it side to side. As I moved my jaw to the right, the tightness eased and warm liquid seeped out. It soaked the edge of the bandage near my mouth and a drop of blood dribbled in.

The blood touched my tongue and it danced around my palate. Visions of what happened earlier tonight came soaring back. My mind blurred. The desire for blood overwhelmed me, and I screamed.

Everyone turned and looked at me. The cop sprinted over to the bed. The doctor just walked, as if he didn’t care. The EKG machine picked up speed again and my breathing grew shallow.

“What’s going on?” asked the cop.

“Please wait outside, Officer Bradley.” Dr. Case’s voice had a stern tone to it. “Nurse Grey, please get me two ccs of diazepam, stat.

It was weird how one minute the doctor didn’t seem to care and the next minute he was barking out orders.

The nurse’s brows lowered and she squinted at Dr. Case. “But, Doctor, you don’t know how it will react—”

“Get it now, Ms. Grey!”

As I savored the drop of blood, I watched the nurse run out of the room behind the cop. The doctor looked at his watch as if he were late for an appointment.
This dude is one weird doc!
Is he nervous about something?

Then Dr. Case grabbed his stethoscope. “Where does it hurt, Ms. Mason?”

I looked up and our eyes met. A look of terror was etched on his face.

Now I was convinced he belonged in a hospital but not this one—one for the insane, and he should be the one behind bars.

As I stared at the crazy doctor, I reached up to touch my face, just to be sure Cliff hadn’t carved a Frankenstein look on me. All I could feel was the bandage on my left cheek and smooth skin on my right.

So, if not that, what were his brown eyes silently trying to tell me?

My insides were about to burst with the desire for blood, and the pain in my chest was about to explode.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

I ran my fingers through my hair and two of them got caught in-between strands, which I assumed were coated with dried blood.

He knitted his eyebrows together and stepped away from the bed, his hand clenched around his stethoscope.

Is this guy crazy? I think he’s losing it.

“Dr. Case?”

“Your eyes... They’re…they’re changing colors. It’s like a colorful storm swirling around, with silver clouds rolling in, flashes of blue and green sparking in the background. Who are you?”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“What are you talking about?”

He was scaring me. Between his weird mannerisms and what he had just revealed about my eyes, I was beginning to think I was in an episode of
The
Twilight Zone
.

He tilted his head to the other side like he didn’t hear me.

“Hello?” I called.

The man was frozen in place. I imagined I looked horrible with the blood and the bandages, not to mention that my hair was probably disheveled from the dried blood. But something told me that wasn’t what was causing his freak out.

Then Dr. Case walked closer to the bed and stood at the bottom, still staring at me.

I wanted to take something and throw it at him.

“Where’s my brother? Is he in the bed next to me? Sam? Sam, are you there?” I lifted my left arm over my head and twisted my body to reach for the curtains. The pain knocked me back down.
I really need to stop doing that.

“The police are searching for your brother.” Dr. Case stepped around the bed and pulled back the curtain. The bed sheets were tucked neatly in place and the pillow fluffed, waiting for the next patient. The air in my lungs deflated.

“Your bandage will need to be changed. You must’ve torn a stitch,” Dr. Case said.

Wow! One minute he was acting as if he had just escaped a mental institution and then the next minute he was playing the caring doctor.

He walked over to the nurse’s cart and dropped his head, pulling out a bin. More of the tattoo on the back of his neck jutted below his red and white cap. From what I could see, it looked like the letter ‘L.’ The rest of it wasn’t visible.

He opened a few bins and grappled with a handful of bandages. A few fell to the floor. He bent over to pick them up when his prescription pad fell out of his coat pocket. He picked up his pad then wheeled the cart over to the bed. He fished around in his lab coat, and as he did his eyes gravitated towards the door.

I followed his gaze. “Why is there a cop outside?”

“Ms. Mason, the police want to ask you questions about what happened tonight.”

“But I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“It’s not for me to judge. My concern is for you to heal properly.”

I silently laughed. His actions didn’t match his words.

“The help you need aside from that is no concern of mine. Now turn towards me.” He slowly peeled away the tape from the gauze. I flinched as he did this three more times. With my skin exposed, the warm air tickled the wound. “Just as I thought. You tore a stitch.”

His hand shook as he threaded the needle. Why was he so nervous?

“I need you to sit still.”

I was planning to with the way his hands were shaking.

“This will sting a bit. I’m numbing the area around the wound,” he said.

As he inserted the needle, I winced. A warm sensation flowed over the left side of my face. I closed my eyes, hoping his shaky hands could complete the job.