I didn't know. And if you'd known her, you'd know that I couldn't really be blamed.
I mean, I hide. I always hide. I don't want anyone to see me. But she saw me anyway. It was a poetry reading, and I was in the corner, hiding. No one paid attention to me. The poetry was terrible, but I still love the smell of the coffee. But she saw me anyway. She sat at my table. It happens all the time, and I don't mind usually. They never know I'm there. But she did. And she smiled at me. And she asked why I'm wearing a mask.
She was happy, always so impossibly happy. She'd start dancing in the middle of the street for no reason. She was so alive. She was everything I should have liked about being alive, but only realized I'd lost when I... well, when I became like this. And she'd laugh. My God, she was always laughing. I'd sit there and tell her something horrible that had happened, or how terrible my life had been, and she'd laugh and tell me my story right back, but twisting everything, exaggerating it and throwing in her little loving sarcasm, so all I could do was laugh at it myself. She never asked about my mask again, or why I sometimes wore makeup just like the painting on the mask. Just as well... I couldn't have explained that I needed the mask so no one could see me, and the makeup for the same reason, any more than I could've explained that the makeup was much easier to feed in than the mask.
She never found out about me, I'm sure. At least, she never said anything. Sometimes I thought maybe she'd figured it out, when she'd sit there with her eyes half-closed like a cat's, but then she'd look away suddenly, wide-eyed, jump up and ask me if I wanted to do something.
We'd walk down the street together, and she'd suddenly run ahead. She'd turn, run back, and tell me to hurry. And she'd giggle when she did this. She was always making me smile. I wonder if she knew I was smiling under the mask. Like I said, you couldn't blame me for what I did. I don't know if you really feel love when you're like this, but if it wasn't love, then it had to be something better.
We were on the beach, I remember. I laid down on the sand to look at the stars while she danced on the sand, avoiding the water as though she might melt. She sat next to me and began shoving sand on me, burying my body. I laughed at first, but then thought that this is what it must feel like to be dead... cool, lying quietly while they push the ground over and around you... and I jumped up. She stood up slowly and just hugged me. Didn't say a word. Just hugged me. And that's when I knew I wanted to be with her forever...
Forever.
I knew what I was doing. I knew this was stupid. I can't say I was crazy, though I wish I could. She'd look at me, and she wouldn't think I was half-crazy, or half-artistic. To her I wasn't a half-breed, I wasn't half-anything. I was a whole Harlequin. Maybe that's what made me do it. No one can blame me.
I knew she wanted to. She'd made enough passes at me, but I just didn't want to. It'd hurt too much to be physical now that I can't enjoy it anymore, when I never got to enjoy it while alive. But I knew that she'd go for it, and she did once I got her back to the apartment. And she did... she kissed me back, hard, while I pulled her to the bedroom. She had black and white makeup smeared all over her face. I was careful not to look into the mirror... if I saw it was too smeared, I'd have to stop and put it back on.
The act itself was harder than I thought... I was right about it hurting. I didn't want to do it, but I couldn't tell her what I really wanted to do either. This way was easier. Besides, even though I don't think it matters anymore... I really wanted her to be my first.
I guess it was fascinating in a weird way... I felt everything almost clinically, thinking there must have been a time when I would have loved the heat and slickness of it... when it would have been a joy rather than a chore. But then I looked at her face, and oh my God... she was so beautiful like that. I nearly lost my nerve right then and there. I wish, I wish, I wish to GOD I had. And if she ever noticed that I was cold inside her... she never said.
I bit her... gently at first, little love bites, trying to keep my feeders in. It was hard. I was so hungry. And she was so warm under me... and her breath on my ear was so hot. So finally, I found the spot I was looking for, and I let myself have her.
It was potent, and rich. It was like glitter, almost, going inside me, like little sparks shooting into me. It was intoxicating and powerful. My eyes closed, just taking it in. I can't remember ever having felt like that before, and I lost myself for a minute.
But then I felt the fur.
I pulled back and looked at her. She was ... I don't know. She was covered in soft black fur, like plush. She'd always had a button nose, but now it was like a cat's, even with whiskers on each side and a little crease running to her lips. Her eyes were closed, and her ears stuck straight up on either side of the top of her head through her hair. I stared, admiring her... I should have been scared, maybe, but I wasn't... she was so beautiful. And then I heard her breathing, too shallow... I'd taken too much... she was dying. God... she was lying there dying, it was too late to change my mind... I had to go all the way or let her die. You can't blame me. I had to finish it. No one can blame me for it.
So I bit my wrist and put it to her lips. She began to drink. I watched her... I couldn't stop watching her. She grabbed my hand and held the wrist against her mouth. Her eyes were still closed. I tugged it away from her, and she laid there, breathing shallowly.
And... something left her.
I could sorta see it, just sorta, like a mist rising up out of her, like a ghost. It came out of her and hung there for just a second. Then it vanished.
And she opened her eyes. But the cat was gone. She just sat there, sitting up slowly, staring at me. I put a leather mask I was given some time ago into her hand, and she put it on, not taking her eyes off me. She wasn't my first, so I knew she'd need it. But she was the first one that I'd done on purpose.
I quietly tried to explain what had happened. She listened. I told her what she was, and what I was, and what it all meant. She didn't say a word. I helped her up and dressed her, almost like a child... but somehow, she wasn't so beautiful anymore. I don't know what it was. It was the same body, porcelain-pale now, but... the way she held herself, I think... made herself look gray and dead.
I took her out, showed her how to feed. He was asleep in an alley, and she didn't kill him, though he'd never be believed if he ever told. I suggested we go to the beach again. She loved being able to run around barefoot on the sand, and we still had hours. But she said no, she wanted to go back home. So I took her back to the apartment. She sat down... and turned on the television. I sat down next to her and tried to talk to her... tried to make her smile, or laugh, or dance... but she just watched television. When the sun rose, and we were in my bedroom with the covered and painted windows, she fell straight asleep while I cried next to her.
No one can blame me.
The next night was much the same. I woke first and sat up, waiting for her to wake up. From the corner of my eye, I saw little things, magic things, scurrying around, and all the colors were still bright and exciting, but she was still dull and lifeless, even when she woke up. I tried to talk to her again, but she wasn't interested. I suggested the beach again, or the coffeehouse, or anyplace at all. She asked what was on television.
It's been a few days now. She wakes up and goes to watch TV. She doesn't like to talk. I got her to dance with me, once, at my insistence. For just a minute, I thought I saw just a little of what I loved, when she held me tight, like I was the only thing that mattered in the world to her. I... I took off my mask... I let her see me. No one ever sees me. It's not safe. But... I wanted her to see me... I wanted her to know how important she was to me. I wanted her to remember whatever she'd forgotten or take back whatever had left her. God... God damn me, I wanted her BACK. I wanted the woman she was to see my face... I wanted to tell that woman I loved her... I never told her. And she never knew that even though it was too late... I'm glad she was my first.
I closed my eyes and just moved slowly, holding her close... but I couldn't fool myself. She was moving with me, not the music. She didn't care about the music, she was doing it to shut me up. She wasn't warm next to me. I pulled my head back a little. I looked into her eyes and told her I loved her. I looked at her eyes through her mask... and she just didn't care.
I saw amazing things still. I swear, I saw a dragon walk down Dixie Highway. A stuffed animal I bought for her winked at me. But the colors are fading now, and I'm forgetting half the things I've seen. The way she was that night is like a dream to me now.
I don't think I'll ever know what it was that left her body that night, but it took with it everything that made her wonderful. I remember her, on the beach, dancing on her toes, and would give anything for that woman to be back... but she's gone now. And it's my fault.
It was easier staking her than I thought it would be. It was harder leaving her body where the sun would find it. By tomorrow night, I'll probably forget everything I saw that night.
I wish I could forget the woman I knew as well.
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