The Renfield Syndrome (Bisexual horror) - David is an ordinary man thrown into a nightmarish world of bloodlust and passion with his own humanity at stake. This is an ongoing work in progress of psychosexual horror.
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CHAPTER 8
David wandered the dark streets of Seattle in a drunken stupor. He had little idea of where he was or what time it might be, if he was being pursued or not, or where he thought he was going. He wasn't even sure where he had procured the pint of vodka in his hand, and he took another drink from it in desperation. It wasn't that David thought alcohol would improve things, rather he was on a tour of self-destruction. If he couldn't die by blades or bullets, maybe he could still drink himself to death.
David remembered everything with crystal clarity, no matter how many layers of booze-induced fog he tried to put between himself and his memories. The Beast had gorged itself and then retreated to sleep off its terrible meal, leaving David to cope with what he had done. But worse than remembering his unthinkable actions was remembering how it felt as he was doing them. The rush of power, the joy of punishing his enemies and coming out the victor, the ambrosial taste of human meat as his reward. It had made him feel godlike, leagues beyond any drug he ever tried in his life. He had felt wonderfully
dangerous
, the predator amongst sheep, invincible and unstoppable. It was the ultimate role reversal, he was the figure of fear while his enemies cowered before him. It was heady stuff.
His man-mind however wasn't nearly as enthusiastic about the fact that he was officially a murderer and a cannibal now,
and
one with a witness at that. David was no master criminal and he knew squat about avoiding the police, and now he was afraid to go home as they could be waiting for him. He surely had left DNA and fingerprints all over the ghastly crime scene, the Beast had made no effort whatsoever to cover his tracks. It was probably a matter of minutes before they closed in to take him off the streets, and no doubt they had a very small, dark cell waiting for a human monster like David. A dark cell that he would be alive in for a very
very
long time.
It had begun to rain again, but David was glad of it this time. His clothes were sticky with blood, both his own and other people's, and he pulled his shirt over his head and off. The stab wound in his abdomen was scabbed over and would soon be another scar added to his growing collection. The more serious sucking wound in his side had stopped whistling air quickly and was likewise well on its way to healing over. David took another drink from the bottle and stood shirtless with his face cast upward, letting the rain wash the blood and gore away, if not his crimes. Never his crimes.
Not wanting to put the foul thing back on, David tossed his ruined t-shirt into a nearby garbage can and resumed his directionless staggering. The bottle was almost gone and hitting him like a tank, and David's stomach protested at every swallow he took, threatening to hurl it back up along with a belly full of acid. He hiccupped and held his breath, forcing himself to keep his gorge down, and succeeded but just barely. A car turned down the rainy street, and David waited to see if red and blue lights came on, fully prepared to surrender and confess everything. But it wasn't the police and for now he remained unmolested. He continued on his way walking nowhere near a straight line, in and out of pockets of darkness created by the streetlights, not bothering to hide himself. Getting picked up by the law was an inevitability.
And even if he somehow evaded capture, there was an even darker future ahead of him. David thought back to the black basement beneath the city he'd been taken to and the filthy and savage people there. The ones Roach called the ferals. Was David destined to join them? Covered in his own ordure, rutting away in the darkness, and eating whatever meat Angelique decided to throw? Judging from his actions tonight, that was his destiny, and that was a future more terrifying than an immortal life in prison. And David had no idea how to turn away from it.
Turn yourself in.
The obvious solution was as simple as you could get.
Find a cop and tell them everything. You're not a criminal, you're not cut out for a life on the run. Plead insanity, that's the truth anyway. Maybe someone could help you. Even cure you.
He reached the end of the block and a four-way intersection, the traffic light dutifully signaling red. Without a pause or a glance in either direction, David staggered into the street to find himself blinded by oncoming headlights. There was a shrieking wail of tires as a lone car screeched to a halt, missing him by inches and David made no move to dodge out of the way. The horn rudely blared as the driver shouted something most unkind. Feeling disappointed, David trudged on without looking at him, taking another drink and grimacing at a fresh wave of nausea.
He paused and leaned against a light post, resting his burning forehead against the cold metal. His stomach burbled sickeningly as his system rebelled against what he was putting into it, and his mouth was flooded with saliva. David half spat and half drooled it out and fought to keep his roiling stomach under control. The outcome of this battle, alas, was as inevitable as everything else. Acid seared its way up his throat and he bent double to noisily empty the contents of his stomach into the gutter in all their crimson glory. The sight of the bloody vomitus made David feel even sicker and his gut spasmed again, forcing him to belch up a second grisly wave. His nose and throat were clogged with it, filling his head with the unescapable stench of what he had done.
That's a person...
David thought as he feebly wiped his mouth, his eyes streaming so badly it rendered the world a blur.
That's a fucking person you just threw up. You deserve to be in prison, you sick fuck. You deserve to be locked up far away from everyone so you can never hurt anyone again.
"What
are
you?" David demanded of himself out loud, his soul filled with loathing at what he had become. At what he might
yet
become. "What the fuck
are
you?" He looked at the vodka bottle in anger and flung it into the street where it shattered, spilling what little remained inside. He remained leaning against the light post until he was reasonably sure that he wasn't going to barf again, then put his back to it and slid down until he was sitting on the ground, his ass landing in the gory puddle of his own sick. David let his head loll between his knees and whispered, "What are you?" to himself again, arriving once more at the same devastating answer. A monster. A savage. A feral. A Beast.
A safe place to go if you need it...
Roach's voice fought its way to the surface of the roiling ocean of David's thoughts.
You're welcome to visit... We try to look after each other...
His mind grabbed onto the thought like a life preserver. The offer had been made and David didn't know when he ever needed a safe place more than he did right now. It was at least a destination, and the alternative was passing out here in the street and hoping the police caught him before he woke up.
Turn yourself in
, his inner voice continued to insist.
Do the right thing for yourself and the rest of the world. You don't want to live like this.
But suddenly, David very much wanted to see Lucas again, if only to certify that there truly was no shred of hope left.
With some effort, David pulled himself to his feet and oriented himself as best he could. He still had no idea where he was, but he picked the direction that seemed likeliest and set off, walking as fast as he could without causing too much extra stomach distress. The alcoholic fog in his head was blinding, reducing his perception to tunnel vision and requiring all his concentration to keep putting one foot in front of the other. But he had a goal now, and that was enough to keep him moving stubbornly forward. David even managed to break into an awkward staggering run as he caught sight of enough of the Seattle skyline to deduce his rough location, and he oriented himself south, aiming for more populated areas.
*****
