A Vampire's Rotten Heart

A Different Breed

    Pete had taken me to church. I knew it was a bad idea the moment we stepped in.

    I couldn't even hear what the priest was saying. The world was spiraling around me. I could feel my insides turning to mush and swirling around in my body. I bent over. I felt like I was vomiting up my own organs.

    "Garrett!" I could faintly hear Pete calling out to me.

    I collapsed into the puddle of regurgitated blood. I didn't want to get up.

    "Garrett! Garrett!" I felt his hand on my back. I closed my eyes.

    "Garrett, can you hear me?"

    "Mm— mhm..."

    "Bhale..."

    I opened my eyes for a split second. Everyone in the church was gathered around me, staring. There were too many; they were too close. I didn't want to see it anymore. I closed my eyes again.

    "Come on, son. Let's get you to a doctor."

    "NO! Don't take me to the doctor!"

    Pete scooped me up and started taking me out of the church. I vomited up more blood. My eyes stayed closed. I didn't see where it went.

    The rhythm of Pete's footsteps calmed me down, and the further we went from the church, the better I felt.

    Maywell put her hand on my forehead. "I think you're gonna be alright." She sighed and looked at Pete.

    "We're so sorry, Garrett... I have more to say, but it's not safe to speak out here," said Pete.

    He carried me into the shop and up the stairs into our home. He set me down on the guest bed.

    "We had no idea you'd react like that— Vampires usually don't have any issues with churches. At least not our type of vampire..." I could see Pete's face fall. "You must be of a different breed."

    "Is that a bad thing?"

    "No! Of course not!"

    Maywell came into the room with a wet washcloth. She started to wipe the dried blood out of my face and hair. "We'll just have to figure out what type you are, and we can adjust accordingly."

    "So what type am I?"

    Pete and Maywell looked at each other.

    "We don't know," said Pete, "We'll just have to wait it out and see."

    "What if it's a worm?"

    "Then we'll love you all the same."

    I shoved Maywell away and buried my face in the pillows.

    "I'm sure you're not turning into a worm," she said, "Do you remember anything about the one who turned you?"

    "No... It was too dark."

    "That's okay." She unbuttoned my shirt and slid it over my shoulder to examine the wound on my neck.

    "It's certainly too big to be a worm."

    "Could've been a giant worm."

    "Not with teeth like this— I'll admit that my knowledge of other vampire stocks is limited, but whatever bit you had way more than two fangs."

    I could feel her poking my neck and back as she counted the puncture wounds.

    "...Forty small fangs and two that are much, much larger."

    "I'm gonna have FORTY-TWO fangs!?"

    "It sure looks like it."

    I grabbed a pillow and stuffed it over my face. I groaned.

    "Hey. Hey. It's okay. They're small fangs. Except for the main two— You might still be  able to pass if you keep your mouth closed."

    "Forty-two..."

    "Well, you'll have time to think about it," said Pete, "I've got a plan, and it involves you staying home for a while."

    "Great..."

    Maywell started buttoning my shirt back up. My face was still in the pillows.

    "We're going to pass you off as having a chronic illness. After that display at church, I'm sure everyone will buy it— And it'll be a great excuse to not go to church."

    "That makes sense. But that means I'll have be cooped up in this house, doesn't it?"

    "Unfortunately. But we'll think of something soon enough."

    Pete tucked me in and blew out the candles.

    "Goodnight," he said.

    "Night."

——————————————————

    I woke up to see a stranger at the foot of my bed. I jumped.

    I heard Pete's voice. "Woah, woah! Calm down! This is Hettie. From church. She's been worried about you."

    "Oh! You poor thing!" She leaned over, getting uncomfortably close. She immediately reminded me of my aunt.

    "She's... actually been visiting you for a while." Pete laughed. "You've just been asleep every time she came over, and I couldn't bear to wake you up."

    Oh god. How long was I out this time? I tilted my head to the side to see piles and piles of cards on my nightstand. A vase had been placed there as well, filled with fresh lillies-of-the-valley. I closed my eyes.

    "I don't want visitors right now."

    I grabbed my blankets and pulled them over, trapping them under the weight of my body so that I'd be extra snug.

    "Very well then. I'm sorry, Hettie, but you'll have to go."

    "Ah, that's alright. I know the boy needs his rest."

    Hettie left the room, and I could hear her walk down the stairs and leave.

    I turned to Pete.

    "How long was I out?"

    "About a month. I woke you up a few times to make sure you were okay, but you don't seem to remember."

    "A month? How is that even possible?" I yawned.

    "Maywell said it must be a quirk of your breed. And I trust her more than myself when it comes to these things." Pete grabbed a quilt and laid it over me.

    I looked back over at the cards and flowers. They were really piled up there.

    "Don't you feel bad about this? Lying to everyone? All these people are worried sick for no good reason. They're spending their own money on all these things for me, and I'm not actually ill at all!"

    "Well, it's better than the alternative. I'd hate to see anything happen to you."

    Maywell came into the room with a bowl of warm blood.

    "You must be starving... Here." She set the bowl in front of me.

    I stared at it for a second. I hadn't realized how hungry I was... I snatched the spoon from her hand and began to greedily slurp it up.

    Maywell examined the bed.

    "Hm..."

    She grabbed the layers and layers of blankets that covered me and ripped them off.

   "Hey! Why did you--" I looked down, and what I saw made me think that I must've been dreaming.