Page 64 of Thirst

On wobbling knees, I sprint as fast as I can out of the exhibit, bursting through the door and onto the street. I run to my car at full speed, start it up, and peel out of the parking lot. I don't care if there are a thousand cops on the streets tonight. I keep my foot on the gas, only braking when I absolutely have to, and I break the speed limit, run red lights, and plow through stop signs until I'm back in the parking garage of my building. I run to the elevator, wait with a tapping foot for the doors to open on the way up, then bolt to my apartment like I'm being chased by ghosts. I slam the door behind me, lock it, and stand in my living room with my hands on my hips, shrouded in disbelief.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my fucking god!” I scream, because I don't know what else to do.

I can't call the cops. They’ll never believe that I just saw a vampire kill a man on 84th street. Or maybe they will. Surely the bullet holes in the wall and Stanley’s dead body will be enough evidence. The holes in his neck from Amari’s massive fangs will prove me right, and once they know I'm not lying, they’ll … Do what? Arrest Amari? I just watched him run on all fours on the fucking wall. He took three bullets to the chest and exhaled the smoke like he was hitting a blunt. He didn't even flinch. It was laughable to him. The cops can't do anything.

But how do I protect myself from him? Do I need protection from him? He said that he was going to be heartless because Stanley disrespected me. He said I made his heart feel like it was beating again. That’s a compliment, right? I don't know what vampires consider compliments. For all I know, he's mad that I made his cold, dead heart feel like it was beating. Do vampires want their hearts to beat? My god, it’s like I'm in the Twilight Zone.

I pace around my apartment for fifteen minutes, going from sitting down to standing up to walking around to staring at the walls. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Do I call Janae and tell her everything? My parents? I'm supposed to go to work tomorrow. Do I confide in Majesty? How could I possibly act like everything is normal? What if Amari tries to contact me again? Surely he only would because he wants to meet up to kill me, right? So it would be smart to tell someone that if I go missing, Amari did it. Or does that just put more of my people in danger? What am I supposed to do?

A knock at my door brings all of my thoughts to a screeching halt. I swear the molecules in the air freeze in place as I stare at the door, my heart pounding.

“What the hell?” I say aloud. “Who is it?”

Please say it’s Janae. Please say it’s Janae!

“It’s Stanley.”

My eyes bulge so wide it hurts. There's no way I heard that right.

“Aaliyah. It’s me, Stanley. Can you open up, please? I'm not here to hurt you or anything. I just don't want to say this through the door.”

What is going on? It’s not possible that he's here. He's dead. I saw it. That bite to the neck was vicious, and Amari was draining him gulp by gulp. There's no way he survived.

My face twists, but I have to know if this is real. It could be a trap, but it sounds just like Stanley. Did I dream it all? I need answers, because the questions are drowning me.

Knowing it’s probably against my better judgment, I walk over to my door, place my hand on the knob, and turn. As he comes into view, my head shakes involuntarily. It’s not possible. Yet, he's here. It’s really Stanley, and he looks perfectly fine. No blood. No sweat from the panic he felt earlier. No bite marks on his neck. It’s like it never happened.

“Hi, Aaliyah,” he says politely. “I'm sure you're probably baffled, but I just wanted to come by and apologize to you face to face. What I did tonight was low, and quite frankly, really messed up. I should've called the buyers in my contacts and made sure they showed up to your exhibit. Being a rapist asshole is something I'm ashamed of, and I vow to never do anything like that to anyone ever again. Because if I do, I know Mr. Goddard will not hesitate to kill me. He only spared my life at the recommendation of Mr. Shawn Martin, who I will continue to thank regularly.

“To make it up to you,” he continues with a subtle smile on his face. “I intend to schedule a real exhibit for your art at the same location, with the help of Mr. Goddard and Mr. Martin to ensure that it goes swimmingly. You’ll encounter real buyers and art enthusiasts, and I will not take a single percentage of your profits because I'm a punk ass bitch who deserves nothing. I am truly sorry for the way I disrespected you, and if you would like to slap me for how lame I am, please take this opportunity to do so.”

“What? Are you serious?” I ask, my mind reeling.

“Quite. Whenever you're ready,” he answers, still smiling as he leans forward and turns his head to the side.

Even though my heart is thumping and I'm as confused as ever, I think about how he slapped me across the face tonight. I’ll probably be covering a bruise before going to work tomorrow thanks to him. So I take advantage of the moment and reach across the doorway, slapping the hell out of his face. The sound is loud and echoes down the hall, but Stanley just takes it. Tears fill his eyes, but the smile never leaves.

“Thank you, Aaliyah. I deserve that,” he says. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have bullet holes to patch. Mr. Martin and Mr. Goddard will work with you to arrange a date for your exhibit, because I am now prohibited from talking to you ever again, lest I have my spine snapped in two. Have a good night, Aaliyah, and again, I am truly sorry for being such a bitch. Goodbye.”

Stanley turns on his heel and walks away without ever looking back. I end up stepping out into the hall to watch as he bypasses the elevators and descends the stairs. He keeps going without hesitation until I can no longer hear his footfalls and I'm standing in the hall with the dumbest look on my face. I have to force myself to go back into my apartment.

“What?” is all I manage to say as I return to pacing.

Why was he acting like that? Smiling like an idiot while saying the most self-deprecating things. How is he not dead? How were there no signs of him being bitten? It’s just like when I let Amari suck some of my blood. I left his penthouse after being cut, only to find that there was no cut. How? How? How? The questions are just too much and I feel overwhelmed by them. Tears sting my eyes out of pure disorientation, and just before I feel like I'm going to have a panic attack, there's another knock at the door.

This time, I don't even think to ask who it is. My brain is so jacked up from everything being turned upside down that I just walk to the door and open it, hoping that answers will be on the other side. But when I see Amari standing there in a new set of clothes, my fear takes over. I inhale, preparing to scream as loud as I can, but then … I just don't.

“Stop. Let me in,” he says, locking eyes with me as he starts to step over the threshold. “Don't scream.”

My entire body warms as I struggle to pull my eyes away from him, and I back up to give him space to enter my apartment.

“Thank you. I'm sorry I had to do that,” he says, closing my door behind him. “I know you have a lot of questions, and I'm gonna answer them. No more hiding. I'm here to tell you everything.”

Thirty-Nine

“Can we please sit down?” Amari asks, gesturing toward my couch.

Fear enters my bloodstream with every heartbeat, and I can feel it widening my eyes as I stare at him, remembering what I saw him do to Stanley. They're not visible now, but he has fangs, and he can dodge bullets, and run along the wall like a wolf defying gravity. He can survive gunshots to the chest at point blank range, and he can heal people to make it look like nothing ever happened to them. He is not human by any measure. He's a vampire, and a threat to my existence. I can't be in this apartment with him. I have to get out before he kills me.