Demetrius

Chapter 27

He was upset with himself for feeling guilty but that didn't change things. Innocently he entered their apartment, like-a-thief-in-the-night--hoping she wasn't there so he could wash the stink from between his legs. When he saw her talking on the phone; he thought of doing his

Pink Panther

routine--stealthily making his way to the shower. But that would only have brought attention to him when it was likely she would confront him--worse yet--she would sniff him out.

Covering the telephone's mouthpiece she said, "Hey fucker."

"Hey--" he said realizing he didn't have a pet name for her yet.

Since she was on the phone, he used hand language indicating he wanted to take a shower. He scrunched up his nose, squeezing it between forefinger and thumb--pointing to him self--indicating he stunk. He took a step to go down the hallway when she said,

"You already took a shower this morning."

"Yeah but I want to wash the smell of the city off me," he said taking one more step towards the bathroom.

"Where were you," she asked almost comically though he found no humor in his guilt as he stopped dead in his tracks--like a prisoner attempting to escape when the spotlight is put on them--standing helpless against the wall expecting the worse.

"I went to the Post Office--to cancel my mail," he said taking one more step--almost there.

"What else did you do," she asked when he imagined he was in the crosshairs of a machine-gun.

"Um--I went to the Library," he said taking another step towards the bathroom when she snapped a finger at him--holding up a finger for him to wait as she apparently listened to the voice on the other end of the phone. He began to whistle the theme from the

Pink Panther

innocently looking up at the ceiling. Until he ventured one more step--hearing her snapping her finger again--louder this time--more emphatic--like a warning shot.

"I have to pee," he implored when he saw her glaring at him. He didn't know what her look meant but he thought she knew--somehow--someway in her vampiristic knowing.

When he unzipped his pants--he waved his hand back and forth as though he was trying to fan the smell--hoping it would diminish it but instead it excited and atomized the air-molecules--filling the room with them when--he felt her standing behind him.

When he turned he saw her leaning in the door well--arms folded, as she tapped a foot on the floor. She closed one eye, furrowing her brow. With her open eye she squinted at him. And as was already stated, she could speak louder and more clearly with her eyes than many humans can with words.

"What's that smell Demetri," she asked as he hurriedly reached into the medicine cabinet for some

Right-Guard

which she snapped out of his hand instantly.

"What smell--I don't smell anything. Maybe I passed gas while I was peeing," he said shaking it.

She took hold of his hand slapping the

Right Guard

into it before turning to walk away when she stopped--pointing a finger at him as she swayed her shoulders in what he thought was anger--mildly threatening him. Surprisingly he saw her taking control of what she was feeling--apparently deciding not to say anything as she turned to walk away when he knew it hadn't ended there.

He hated it--knowing the threat of execution was always worse than having it carried out. Worse yet, he didn't know what she thought or felt. Here he had thought they were only capable of feeling anger. What he couldn't figure out was that she seemed capable of putting her anger and feelings in check.

"Is it a sign she really does love me," he wondered stepping into the shower--washing away the scent and goo from Kitty at long last. As he showered he wondered what Alexis was going to say; what she was thinking--feeling. Surely her behavior was a mystery to him. Was she perhaps more human than he thought? The thought she cared enough to become angry, perhaps jealous, was exciting to him when he felt his love for her growing to a new level--the way love seems to grow when we are threatened with the loss of it.

When he was getting out of the shower, her heard the apartment door slamming shut. He shook his head, looking around the apartment for her--seeing she'd left. If he ever hated himself before--this was it--the pits--worse than he thought possible.

Not knowing if he hurt her or not but feeling he had--he sat and began to cry--hating himself and what he'd done in his thinking it was okay--wondering how he could feel guilt when she made a point out of telling him sex with others was all right.

After his emotional release--he stood looking at himself in the bathroom mirror and his red eyes. He splashed cold water on his face several times knowing he had to go looking for her. He dressed in the best clothes he could find and went to

Sangre Maria's

in search of her. Even if he hadn't hurt her--he knew he loved her beyond anything he thought possible. He imagined the torment he felt inside him being conveyed to her--through telepathy--when she would know he was crazily-mad-in-love with her.

When he entered the club he saw her dancing with someone. She was smiling and behaving seductively--making him feel all the more--whatever he felt. He didn't know if the guy she was dancing with was a vampire or not but he really didn't care at this point when he walked to her. Assertively he stepped between her and the guy she was dancing with when the guy said,

"Hey dude--find your own squeeze to dance with!"

He was rudely and forcefully pushed aside when something inside him was triggered--set into motion as it surprised him with a sensation he never felt before. He looked at Alexis when she smiled at him--knowing and seeing the fury he felt as it showed in his face--pleasing her. He heard her words in his head clearly:

"What are you going to do about it, because if you don't do something; I'm gonna let him fuck me?!"

"This is my squeeze asshole," he said pushing him backwards, reeling into the crowd of dancers.

He grabbed her by the arm to walk away when he was spun around--taking a solid hit to the nose--cracking it open like a walnut. Looking at her he moved his hand to his face as they watched it filling with blood. He didn't know what she thought or felt but he saw the fascination and excitement in her face.

"If you want me, you're going to have to fight for me now," he heard her taunting and goading him into action--doing that which he had fought against doing his whole life in the spirit of civility--until he was enraged with a new kind of lust.

He didn't care how many times he got hit or how hard for that matter, since he knew it would heal and he'd doggedly pursue his opponent until he couldn't fight any more--at least that was what he was hoping. He had a lifelong of hidden anger inside him and it showed in his remarkable ability in fighting--as though he wanted to kill in a pervasive fit of anger. He used what he could remember from training with her, rendering his combatant unconscious--unmoving.

At some point during the altercation he felt he was an animal. Feelings of compassion were gone--freeing him to strike out and attack the way an animal would. It seemed the whole purpose of his existence, if only temporarily, was ruthlessness--to incapacitate his adversary--rendering him helpless until he was no longer a threat to him or anyone else for that matter. He also knew he was only a boy-scout compared to what he saw her doing that night in the alley, when his life hung in the balance.

On their way out the door an ambulance was arriving. She clutched his arm when he didn't know how he felt in becoming an animal when certain triggers were turned on. It was both exhilarating and dreadful in knowing compassion and sympathy for other humans was the difference in being human and animal.

He spat out a mouthful of blood knowing he no longer had a choice in the matter. It saddened and angered him since a part of him was fading fast when soon it'd be gone and lost forever.