☾° Compelled. ⌜ d. swing. ⌟

☾° › eight.

  「ɴᴏᴠᴇᴍʙᴇʀ 1st, 1991.」

Zᴇɴᴀ Pʜᴏᴇɴɪx.

I couldn't wrap my head around what had just happen. Or maybe it was me not wanting to believe it. My boyfriend had just murdered my childhood best friend in front of me, brought him back to life, and killed him again. However, it would be safe to say that I would have to have one hell of a belief system to actively date a vampire and think somebody close to me wouldn't end up dead due to boyish jealousy and the fragile male ego.

"Come on, Lesane." I said as I slapped his face a few times. He was out cold. His skin was icy to the touch and his body laid lethargically against the hardwood floors of his rented home. "Fuck, he said you'd wake up." I groaned, sitting back on my legs and I threw my hands up into the air. I needed DeVante to tell me what to do.

Yes, I was mad at him. Fuck that, furious. But I still didn't see myself completely separating from him. Apart of me didn't want to explore life without him ever again. He would always tell me that my attachment to Lesane was unhealthy, but it had only been a few months since I
met him and I felt like I couldn't live without him. Even after watching him take Lesane's life in front of my eyes.

Placing my hands against my face, I sighed deeply into them before I heard the creak of the door opening. Silently hoping it was De coming to help fix what he had ruined, I was disappointed when I heard Faith's voice. "Zena? Is he okay?" I pulled my hands from my face and I looked over at her. If looks could kill she'd be with Lesane in limbo. Or wherever he was.

"I don't know. But if he is, it's no thanks to you Faith. You ran out on us!"

"Hold on, no thanks to me? First off, I left you here with your boyfriend. If it's anyone's fault it's yours for having a horrible taste in men." She spat venomously.

"I have a horrible taste in men?" I asked, pressing my finger to my chest before letting a healthy laugh escape the pit of my stomach. I couldn't believe she of all people were coming for my taste in men. "Your baby's father is thirty-three and he still lives at home with his mom. And his other baby mama and their two kids."

"And? He hasn't killed anybody!?" She had a point. But that didn't erase the fact that she procreated with a bum.

"Faith. Why are we arguing over Lesane's unconscious body? Help me get him up and move him to the couch, please?" I requested and she only nodded in response. I grabbed his arms and her his legs. Though our friend wasn't large by any means, height or weight wise, it felt like he weighed a ton as we lifted him. The sounds of our grunts and groans filled the room until we successfully got him to the couch.

"Have you checked his pulse?" Faith asked me when we finally got his heavy body stationary on the couch and I shook my head in response.

"No, I'm not sure how to. Your grandma's a nurse, I'm sure she's taught you how to do it. " She took her index and middle finger and pressed it to his neck, looking up into the ceiling as if she was searching for a visual pulse. She nodded to herself and pulled her fingers away.

"It's there, it's just faint. He's not dead strangely. But his body is so cold." She places her hand to his forearm and she pulls her hand away quickly. "Dead bodies don't get this cold for days, I don't think. We should take him to the hospital."