Musings of a High School Vampire: 3…

They say things come in threes.   I don’t know who the fuck they are, but they sure as hell know their shit.

Three times now, I’ve been ready to kill Brix.   The first time he inexplicably looked up to see me spying through his window.   The second time he inexplicably looked over to see me watching him drive into a tree.   The first time he shot me.   The second time he got hospitalized and kept out of my reach.   Until now.

Third time lucky.

Gotta give the dude some fucking credit here.   I seriously thought he was just going to be like any other school bully – and I’ve attracted the attention of a few over the years.   Some I snacked on, some weren’t worth the trouble or the risk.   None saw me coming, not even once.   Most bullies are simply compensating: for whatever reasons in their petty little lives, they’re afraid, insecure, sexually inadequate…   Easy targets.   But Brix, surprisingly enough and after looking like a candidate for all those defects, has instead built himself up to be an interesting, even worthy nemesis after all – the triple threat.   He recognizes, he realizes, and he responds.   He’s – evolved.

So, in hindsight, I should have thought a little more through the implications of his challenge the other day, when I then went over to – ‘visit’ – last night.   I just thought he was still excessively pissed off about his minor physical setbacks – namely the car accident coma, crippling and recooperating…

But what you need to look out for when you’re pitching for three strikes is the batter with bravado, brawn – and brains.

Because when I slid gracefully and menacing into the dark house of Brix on a cloudy Saturday night – glided silently and lethally down the stairs from the open upper window, checking empty and unlit rooms with practised care; slipped easily through the open plan lower rooms, past the study that became a makeshift bedroom since the man of the house became wheelchair-bound but was now vacant; pushed smoothly at the swinging door into the kitchen…

A light went on.

I stepped back, and let the door swing unhindered.   Three times it concealed and revealed the view behind.

As I first released it, the closing door momentarily obscured the shiny clinical chrome and white kitchen with its surgery-bright down lights – but as it swung back to its furthest point, there was a clear view of the tall, heavily-built boy-man with the dark circles under his eyes, the still weak legs drawn underneath him and his powerful arms crossed over his chest, seated in the chair dragged directly opposite the door.

And as it swung in once more and before it clicked gently closed – I was afforded a third and final glimpse of my atrophied antagonist and anticipated trophy. 

 

Brix was smiling.

And now so was I.

 

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