aware (peterick)

5

Puffing, I slap my laptop closed and rub my tired eyes. I've been awake eighteen hours straight working my ass off and throwing little girl tantrums, and I've still got at least another four until dawn.

Insomnia, my old friend. It's been a while.

I swivel on my barstool at the kitchen counter to face my newly acquired roommate. Since waking up free of restraint, he's had his eyes transfixed to the TV, curled up in the blanket I'd given him at the apartment. It seems to comfort him. I haven't managed to get him out of it, actually, and hence haven't attempted to change him out of those disgustingly white clothes.

I know fuck all about vampirism. Neither does he, it seems. He doesn't even remember his own damn name. But, with convenient access to official police missing person's files, I've managed to find him:

Patrick Stumph, eighteen years old, grew up in Chicago with his family. He'd sent a text to his mother at 3:30 in the afternoon while walking home from school. He simply never made it home that day, and was declared missing, presumed kidnapped, 24 hours later. Two days after that, his entire family were found slaughtered in their home. Grim, but it was clear the killer had been a vampire, the same creature responsible for Patrick's abduction; he'd turned him into a monster, much like himself, before abandoning him in the tiny apartment, where he'd spent two months feeding off of nothing but dogs.

He'd never had any friends.

There's no home he can ever go back to now.

Like many of our cases, Patrick had lived in such horrible, restricted conditions for so long that he seems to have lost almost his entire ability to walk on his own two feet independently. It's also likely that he'd have communicated with his captor only through grunts and cries, and his lack of proper human contact has weakened his vocal chords, rendering him mute.

Specifically, my job is to help find and rehome neglected children, not to care for them, but I've voluntarily set myself up to be responsible for the latter task. My decision has been clarified by the NSPCC, and I've been let off official desk work for as much time as I need. As long as I know I'm still getting paid for this, looking after this kid shouldn't be too much of a hassle.

The NSPCC have no idea he's a vampire, though.

But they don't need to know. Because if they did, I'd be fired on the spot and sworn to secrecy for the rest of my life, never to see or talk to any of my co-workers ever again. Including Brendon, my lifelong best friend.

I don't have time to worry about that now.

My only worry is Patrick, and keeping him safe. And making sure he doesn't kill me while I try to reverse the effects of his trauma, taming his animalistic urges to ensure he acquires some sense of humanity.

Nobody said this was going to be easy.

Sighing, I hop down from my barstool and make my way into the living room, toward the couch where Patrick is sitting, cocooned in the blanket with his knees tucked underneath him. I perch at the opposite end of the couch, keeping my distance. "Hey, kid... Patrick, isn't it?"

His head whips up in response, but the moment he sees me he curls in on himself and buries the bottom half of his face in the blanket. "Patrick. That's your name," I tell him gently. "My name is Pete, and yours is Patrick. Do you remember?"

Naturally, he hasn't spoken a word to me at all. It's not a refusal; he literally, physically can't talk. Thankfully, though, he understands English, at least to some extent, because he nods quickly, and I smile slightly, a gesture of praise. "Good, that's great... And can you tell me how old you are? Could you count on your fingers for me?"

Wriggling them out from underneath the blanket, Patrick splays his hands out in front of him and stares at them curiously. I presume he knows how old he is, but he doesn't seem to understand why I've asked him to count to eighteen when he can clearly see he only has ten fingers. He looks up at me and scowls like I'm stupid.

"Sorry," I utter, edging away from him ever so slightly, subtly, so as to not startle him; I don't want to make it seem as though he's scared me away. "I just wanted to make sure you still remember the important things about yourself."

His expression morphs into alarm at the realization that he intimidates me, if only a little. He worries his bottom lip, his wide eyes staring at my neck, where I can feel my pulse speeding beneath my skin. I swallow and gaze just to the side of his face; I fear Brendon may have been right about these creatures using their eyes to hypnotize you.

"You know why you're here, don't you?" I ask him next. This time he neither nods nor shakes his head, though he seems content in knowing that whatever the reason, he is safer here in my hands than in anyone else's

"You're not..." I start, really thinking about how I should word this without terrifying him. "You're not human anymore, and I know that scares you, so I'm going to help you. Those people who locked you up, they were going to... they were going to torture you. They were going to force you to seclude yourself and live your life completely alone." I shuffle closer to Patrick and place my hand atop his trembling one. "But those people are stupid. And I think you can live a relatively normal life; you just have to learn to adjust to it. And that's what I'm going to help you do. Adjust. So you don't have to hide yourself away."

If someone had recited those same words to me two days ago, I'd have laughed in their face. I'd have spat and told them they were being foolish, because vampires are bloodsucking, remorseless monsters who use us as their favoured food source. How do you expect them to adjust to a human lifestyle when they can't even walk around in the day time? How could you care for something that will never again feel the sunlight on their face? 

But it's not every day you stumble across a being as terrifyingly stunning as this one is... damn those eyes.

The child gazes at me hopefully, and I can see that his eyes are glinted with threatening tears, and that his bottom lip his trembling furiously. Intuitively, I slide across the sofa to comfort him, both relieved and surprised that he doesn't try to hide himself away this time. Or try to eat me, for that matter.

"I'm scared too, Patrick," I soothe, putting an arm around him and rubbing his shoulder. "If anyone finds out about this, I'm fu- I'm in trouble. But I'm determined to let you stay with me for as long as possible. And I'll get you anything you want or need, starting with blood."

Patrick's eyes light up at the word, his eyes flicking up to my neck, lips parting slightly. "No, not mine," I caution, chuckling nervously. "They have people at the hospital who can deliver some for us."

Patrick seems to understand this and diverts his gaze, but his stomach doesn't agree and groans hungrily. His face grimaces as he clutches his belly. The poor thing hasn't eaten properly in weeks. He's in so much pain, and I hate that I can't cure that for him right now.

The TV switches itself off, plunging us into silence.

"Do you, ah, want anything?" I offer, unfurling my arms from around his shoulders. Patrick stares at me blankly and I shake my head senselessly. "Never mind, stupid question. Anyway, I'm just going to get myself a drink from the kitchen, so you just sit tight and-"

I start to stand, but a light tug at my forearm keeps me from moving. Patrick has his hand clutched tightly around my wrist. I try to wriggle out of his grip, but it's like a vice; it doesn't hurt, I just hadn't expected him to be that strong.

"I'm not leaving," I promise. "The kitchen's right over there, see?"

Patrick shakes his head urgently and yanks me back onto the couch. I comply with reluctance, only for the boy to crawl into my lap, nuzzling his head against my chest with gentle force until I'm lying flat on my back. He then flops forward and lies on top of me, curling up into a foetal position and tucking his face into the crook of my neck.

Fuck, he's cold.

Nonetheless, my fingers find themselves sifting through his hair, and I'm listening to his quiet purrs as he drifts peacefully to sleep.