Vylos

Silence…1

…precious, unbroken silence.  There was nothing to be heard outside of his own mind, except for rainfall and footsteps—his own footsteps on the abandoned walkways of the small town that he once called home.2

Home…3

…he had another home now, far from the memories, far from her screams; far from the memory of her dying gasp, her choked pleas.4

He watched her die and had done nothing, could do nothing.5

If only he could turn back time…6

…he could have prevented it, he knew it somehow, but at the same time he was genuinely uncertain, unnerved by the wish…7

…if only…8

----9

It was just another normal day with sun filtering through the drifting post-rain clouds.  His room, as usual, was quiet, save for the occasional squeaking from a tank near his window where his pet rat ran its metal wheel.  If there were two people he talked to more, it was his rat, Pinky, and his sister, Kate, who always found any little reason to bother her little brother, pampering and joking with him.10

Tonight’s excuse?11

“He’s got a lot of homework, I know,” she explained to her parents, “but he said he needs some help, so I’ll just be going now.”12

This also got them out of doing dishes and several other chores because they insisted that it took some kind of effort to get the boy to talk.  He never did talk around his parents, and it was strange, of course, but he would always talk to Kate…as long as they weren’t around.  She trotted upstairs happily, with her cat not far behind.  As always, he was glad to see her when she showed up, even though they spent most of the day together in a school so small due to their town’s population that elementary and high school were combined.  Add to that home life, where the two all but shared a room and one would wonder why they had no sibling rivalry of some sort.13

“Hey, half-pint,” she grinned.14

The fact of the matter was that the fifteen-year-old boy was taller than his eighteen-year-old sister.15

“Hey, Kate,” was his quiet response.16

She found it odd that he hid his voice from the world—it was a rather nice voice, after all, and reflected all the kindness he had to give as much if not more than his eyes did.  The house—both inside and out—as well as the plants and animals in and around it were in superb shape because of the boy.  Both of their pets—the rat and the cat—were rescued in some sense because of him, and he had a habit of bringing in injured animals and helping them out a bit before releasing them into their back yard.  Soft, though that may seem, it was rather dangerous, taking squirrels and raccoons in as they were still quite wild.  He had suffered several scratches from some animals, but nothing major.  His latest project had been young deer that insisted on roaming onto their property that was just weaned and leaving.  His excuse to Kate—which happened to be true, and was passed to their parents—was that his mother was likely killed.17

She sat down on his bed after taking Pinky from his tank and setting him down as well, watching rat and cat play like old friends (as they had been found nearly together).18

“How are ya?” she snickered, leaning, back-to-back with not-so-little little brother, Kenneth, as was usual for the two.19

“I’m good, you?” he smiled—it wasn’t often that he did that either, and that was as nice as his voice.20

“Peachy,” Kate smirked before moving her hand on the bed, causing both rat and cat to run toward it, hoping to get attention.21

They talked for hours after that, books and papers spread out across his floor, the rat and cat curled up on a pillow, napping, while Kenneth and Kate sat happily on the floor.  This was probably the thing that made homework bearable—having someone who had once had the same teachers and some of the same problems that he did in school that was only a couple of years older than he was to help.22

Kate looked up at the clock and snickered.  It was already past eight, so that meant that they had been working for at least four hours straight through dinner.  They glanced at each other, grabbed their pets, and went racing downstairs with the still-groggy animals in their arms.  Both stopped running and shut the kitchen door so that their parents could not hear them and made for the leftovers of fried chicken and macaroni and cheese, sticking both in the microwave before sitting down at the table, snickering.23

Kenneth, as usual, had won the race, and Kate sat, snickering but mock-pouting and complaining about the win.  Both were in sight of the open window…24

…that was their first mistake.25

A young man by the name of Kenneth Saunders, quite drunk and quite angry (as Kate had recently broken up with him due to his violent and pain stupid tendencies) was standing outside, out of eye and ear-shot.  He raised his trembling hand, prayed his aim was true, and fired.  If he couldn’t have her, no one could.  For too long—and a week or two was too long for him—he watched her talking to another guy.  Now that would be over, and he was sure of it when he heard the near bellowed cry of “KATE!” echoing from the Reed family’s kitchen.  He left calmly for a drunk man, and returned home to hide the gun.26

As Kate collapsed to the floor with a horrified and pained cry, Kenneth caught her, falling to his knees with her and holding her close as she gasped and soon began coughing up blood.  He felt something warm trickling onto his arms and did his best to keep himself from looking beyond her at the blood that was now spilling out onto the floor.  Two, three times he had heard the shots, perhaps more, because he had suddenly gone deaf to all but Kate.27

“MOM!” he cried out at the top of his lungs, “DAD!”28

This was the first and only time that they had ever heard their son speak, so they knew that something was horribly wrong.  They, too, had heard the gunshots and were already on their way to the kitchen.29

Tears were rushing to his eyes as he sat there, holding his sister close as her breath began slipping away from her, becoming raspy, uneven gasps.30

“Kate,” he whispered, soon beginning to sob almost silently, but heavily just the same, “hang on, Kate…”31

She stared up at her baby brother, moving her mouth to speak.32

“I…am I…” she coughed and cringed, clinging to him best she could, but she was in such pain, and it was quickly turning to numbness.  “I don’t wanna go, Kenneth…”33

Her grip was weak, her voice was weak, her heartbeat was beginning to slow.34

“I don’t wanna die…I don’t wanna leave…” she whimpered as their parents quickly called 9-1-1, her mother in hysterics, and their father carefully explaining what he had heard.35

“K…keep me here, Kenneth,” she whimpered, though her voice was leaving her, “don’t let me go… K-K-Kenneth…”36

His eyes widened when she stopped speaking, stopped breathing.  He tried, he tried hard to bring her back, but the only result of CPR was a slight bubbling noise.  Her lungs had been punctured and too much effort had collapsed them.37

The young Saunder’s aim had been true after all, too true…38

…Kate had died in her little brother’s arms…39

…from the table, where they had left the rat and the cat, sounds of obvious mourning had been sounding since Kate had fallen.  They knew…they both knew that the girl was not going to make it.40

The next few days consisted of his parent’s attempts to comfort him and near complete silence away from them until his birthday, which he discontinued acknowledging from this point on, when the funeral took place.41

He stayed in Kate’s room for weeks after that, only coming downstairs for meals and for school, then returning to her room, where he had set Pinky’s tank up in the corner, to brood.42

He remained perfectly silent, except to his sister’s cat and to Pinky who lived to the ripe, old age of four before he joined Kate in the next world, so that it was just Kenneth and the little black and white cat, Sylvester.43

When he graduated, it was not a happy day.44

“I’m coming when you do!” Kate always used to say, “I’ll be there.”45

He simply returned to his own room to cry that night.  He would be leaving his parents’ house in a few weeks, moving into his own apartment and taking some of Kate’s things, including Sylvester, with him…46

…and that’s when things went to the dogs…47

…or, rather, the vampires…48

----49

It had simply been a night of the usual silence, a night alone, walking, when he was attacked.  A vampire in a frenzy, taking the route of pain, had bitten him, left him for dead.  The only good thing about today was the fact that the trial that had come to past had found the suspect, and the correct one thanks to the bullets that had been so carefully removed from Kate, had been found guilty.50

It was hours before he got his bearings again and headed home, but not to his apartment—he headed for his parents’ house, a place that he had not seen in a few weeks, as he still paid them a visit every now and then, usually to straighten up a bit even if he had moved out more than six years ago.  He rang the doorbell, leaning heavily against the doorjamb as he did so.  He was dizzy, feeling quite hung-over…and he couldn’t quite get over the peculiar itch in his mouth, where his canines were.51

It was his mother who eventually answered the door, with a scream when she saw blood on her son.  When she looked to his once-hazel, she stumbled backwards, right into his father who stared at him with a combination of anger, fear, and the sudden urge to run.52

He was simply let in for a bit to eat and drink to get his energy back up, the story of what had happened, a very long look in a mirror (it was his turn to scream at the sight of glowing, blood-red eyes and elongated canines), and told to leave.  He did leave, though hesitantly and to the relief of both of them, and he returned, as quickly as possible, to his apartment.  Sylvester seemed to be the only one to accept his changes, literally for years.  He learned that he had no choice but to feed on blood, despite the fact that he could still take in normal food.  He could also live with sunlight, though he did not like it at this point.53

It was his name, however that had to go, and he got that changed as quickly as possible, legally as well…54

…Vylos…55

----56

…Vylos…57

He looked to his old home silently.  It had now fallen into disrepair—both of his parents had been dead for years now, ever since a couple of years after he told them his story—following him, silently, had been Sylvester, Kate’s cat who showed no signs at all of slowing down.58

Alone, aside from the company of the cat, shudders were mended, the boarded-up windows uncovered—they were fine aside from the dust, despite all the time that had passed—the door was placed back on its hinges, new flowers planted for the spring, hedges were carefully trimmed.59

By the next morning he and the cat would be gone again, leaving the yard cleaned and weeded, cut with the old lawnmower in the shed behind the house, which had been painted quickly, but well, considering, and fixed as well as the house had been.60

He left it the way he remembered it, almost…61

…he left it the way others remembered it…62

“It’s just like Kenneth would have done it…”63

Those were the words of those who used to see him in the yard all those hours, cleaning, mending, cutting, trimming, painting…busy, with just the company of big sister, Kate, who always adored his work…64

…and now he would leave it behind, one last time…65

…and only he and Sylvester knew of any of what he had done…66

…and they were on their way home…67

…their new home; their new lives…68