Warning: 18+ readers only; this blog is dark and full of terrors!
This story contains questionable religious themes of a sexual nature, as well as mild to graphic gore, and scenes of a very erotic nature. Do not read on if these are things that you may find offensive or upsetting!
I awoke dazed and nauseated with only a hazy memory of the last minutes of the night before; vague visions of Kaleb's voice and profuse apologies at my barely conscious body. I weakly touched what should have been a bloody wound on my neck, feeling nothing out of the ordinary. Any excess blood must have been lapped up by Kaleb's hungry tongue... or had it all been a dream? My head was thumping, and I could hear faint high-pitched sounds with each throb.
I faded in and out of consciousness with each intermittent beep for a few seconds before realising the noises weren't in my head. Clumsily, I grabbed at my bedside table, attempting to find my phone with my fumblings. Who the hell is messaging me at this time in the morning?
With blurry vision, I struggled to read the messages: dizzy words "Blocked ID" along with a rather juvenile threat, most likely written by someone with very little imagination and too much time on their hands, I thought. "Watch if you DARE!" struggled to have an effect on me and my vampire-hangover-addled brain, but as I was about to put my phone down and go back to sleep, another message came up on the screen.
It was a video upload, entitled "What is Kaleb really up to?" and I was immediately curious.
Regardless of my lack of vision, the images that flickered on the screen were clear enough; I was thoroughly awake now, unable to turn my gaze away. There was no sound other than rustling footsteps among leaves, the camera filming from outside someone's livingroom, peeping through the window. An almost naked Father Clarke entered the scene, and I cringed a little, but my embarrassment shortly turned to horror. I watched the rigid conversation between Clarke and Kaleb before something utterly disgusting happened that wounded me far more profoundly than any of the gashes I'd received mere hours before.
I couldn't leave the bed; I couldn't face anyone or do anything but cry. Even when I thought I'd finished, I'd think of the video, and a new storm would flood my eyes. I dreaded the nightfall because Kaleb would undoubtedly come to me, and I would have to confront him. Never had I felt so much hatred towards anyone as I did towards him that day.
It wasn't long after ten when I heard a faint knock on my window. I wanted to ignore it, ignore what I'd seen earlier, ignore how hurt and in-love I felt, but I couldn't do any of it. I faced the wall, listening to knock after knock, tears threatening to reappear. It took a lot of effort, emotionally and physically, to regain composure but as soon as I heard Kaleb's voice in my head, my wall of poise was crumbling again.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes," I said aloud, my voice cold and quiet.
There was a brief, tense silence between us.
"Can I come in?"
With great pain, I dragged myself from my bed, and opened the window, keeping my eyes locked away from his penetrating gaze.
As soon as he hopped down from the ledge, he tenderly stroked my downturned face, concerned words falling from his lying mouth.
"Are you hurt?" He asked, examining what was left of his love bite, affectionately running his warm fingers over the faint mark. The immediate contentment I felt at his touch was conflicted with the grief in my stomach. Fighting the urge to vomit, I pushed his hand away.
"Stop."
"Nathaniel, what's wrong? I'm sorry if I hurt you last night -"
"You think that's why I'm upset? Really?"
His expression was suddenly blank, his eyes growing yellow and grey and pink all at once. He took a step back, looking away from me.
"Well?" My voice was so quiet I barely even heard it, and he shrank away from me like he couldn't kill me in seconds. I waited anxiously for his answer, hoping that somehow it had all been fake, or it was an old video and he just so happened to be wearing the same clothes as last night. I was praying so hard that he could hear me. He must have because the silence that followed spoke volumes until he finally opened his mouth.
"How did you find out?"
Any faith I had in him was annihilated entirely with those five simple words. I watched a red tear trickle down his face, and I looked away, no longer able to look at his pretty face. Wrong answer.
"Was I... not enough for you?" My voice came thick, my eyes squeezing shut at the image of Kaleb and father Clarke burned onto my retinas, the near violence and bloodiness of it.
"I didn't go there for that... He..." He couldn't even look at me, his eyes staring off somewhere under my bed. "I didn't want to do that."
"You sure looked like you wanted to."
"I wanted to kill him."
"There's a huge difference between killing and fucking, Kaleb." I couldn't hold back my tearful anger. "Although there's a pretty fine line with you, isn't there?"
As he stared at me, his eyes flooded with blood and every colour I'd seen in them, the pain radiating from them. I didn't feel sorry for him then. He deserved it, I thought. But as I watched him lifting himself onto the window ledge, I could tell he wanted to say something, but if he did, I never heard anything. He was gone before I could ask him.
Of course, at the time I had no idea what had really happened between them, only what I'd seen on the screen. I didn't know there was something else looming in the shadows.
And neither did Kaleb.
After he left, I couldn't help but wish for him to return, to tell me the full story. How could you go from wanting to kill someone to... that? I didn't know what he could've said to me that would've made it better, but I wanted him to lie to me, manipulate me, make me forget, make it go away.
But he never came back. Several nights passed, and he didn't reappear. I didn't see him again before I went back to school.
It took me over two weeks of wallowing in heartbreak to decide to find him. I wanted an explanation, a real one. And if that meant getting past Father Clarke, I was willing to do that.
I chose a weekday, not long before sunset. Part of me feared seeing Father Clarke, but I also thrived on it. I could pretend I knew nothing, regardless of how difficult it would be. But when I stood facing him and his innocent, charming smile, I just couldn't.
The whole length of pews stood between us, as well as a thickening silence.
He stared at me with concern for only a second before he spoke. "I thought you'd come by sooner."
"Where is he?" I didn't mean to come across so demanding, but my stomach was a storm of nerves and anger. "I need to speak to him."
"I'm assuming you mean Kaleb?" Father Clarke smirked, shaking his head as he looked away. "He's not here. He left... when was it? About three weeks ago?"
My mouth gaped. "Where did he go?"
"Who knows? He's probably a charred mess by now. He was distraught when he left..." The fake sweetness in his voice and the sneer that followed made me feel sick to my stomach as my heart beat fast in my chest.
"You're lying..." My voice trembled. "Tell me where he is."
Father Clarke laughed as he floated towards me. "Sweet Nathaniel, you must have really upset the poor boy that night..."
I could feel it; that aura of evil, now sickeningly close, that blood-curdling feeling, only now it was stronger than ever.
I edged backwards, too scared to take my eyes off him for a second. I looked down at his feet as he came closer, his shoes not even touching the ground.
I froze, unable to move. I wanted to scream, or cry, or run, but I couldn't do anything but stare in horror as Father Clarke quickly approached me.
The door slammed behind me, and everything went dark.
"You said he'd come." That voice again, that dark figure.
"He will. He knows Nathaniel is here. He'll come."
It hurts. Everything hurts. I can't see, only hear the voices and feel the evil steeping the room.
A crash; the doors are open, a gust of wind on my skin. The ropes on my wrists burn, but I can't move to struggle.
"He's here."
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