Vase Full Of Blood Chapter 5

[axeslade]

Really fast update to Vase Full Of Blood. It’s crap, as I think the whole thing since chapter 1 has been overall, but I intend to edit like hell once summer starts and really get this baby goin’ good.

For the next week I managed to almost completely put Pam out of my mind. I told myself that she didn’t matter, that I knew absolutely nothing about her, which was pretty much true. She was just another poor waif who had been dealt a crap hand. I’d done the right thing that night, but I had no other duty to her. I even managed to make myself forget her last name, though for all I tried I couldn’t forget her smell. Some days, when I stumbled in weary from hunting, I would fall asleep and wake up breathless because I could feel the honey-flower mist trickling down my throat. I forced myself past it, though, taking to skulking gyms again, using the scent of the sweat-covered bodies to drench out the perfume that tried to overtake my mind.

It was a Saturday night and I was in my apartment, lazing pleasurably on the couch, having drunk my fill of two little cheerleaders two hours before. These trashy girls couldn’t have smelled less like Pam. Unlike Pam, who while definitely feminine, lacked curves and cleavage, these two girls were rounded and padded in every part normal men found alluring. They were also heavily made up, almost trashy, while Pam had only eyeliner and lip gloss to make her features pop out. They didn’t smell like flowers and sweat, either. They smelled of cheap booze and some bad knockoff perfumes that had nearly made me gag. Nevertheless, they’d served their purpose and were probably waking, confused, in the alley where I’d left them as I laid there on my couch in a drunken stupor as their blood warmed my frozen veins. .

The stupor quickly wore off, though, as an inexplicable pain shot through my entire being. I shot up, nostrils flaring and eyes narrowed against the anger that was suddenly pulsing through my body. I smelled something. I breathed heavily and closed my eyes, trying to force myself down a bit so I could focus enough to figure out what I was smelling. .

My throat constricted suddenly and I gripped the upholstery of the couch so tight that I felt the stuffing come through between my fingers as I figured out what I was smelling. Blood. .

Every vow I had made in the past week quickly left my mind in that instant as I realized why the smell of this person’s blood was bothering me. It was Pam’s blood. Not just her blood. Mixed with the iron tang was the scent I already knew too well. The scent of her tears. .

Without stopping to consider why I was leaving, or what I was going to do to whoever was making her cry, I stormed out of my apartment and into the street.

It only took me a few minutes to get to Pam’s building, and I had just gotten through the door when some oaf stumbled in my path. I would have just shoved him away and continued up the stairs, had he not pressed a bit too close to me and brought the scents that clung to him wafting up to my nose. .

The most obvious and offensive was semen. Again, that would have passed me by, had I not smelled something mingled with it. Pam’s blood and tears. I didn’t know what he’d done, but he immediately became the most disgusting creature I had ever seen. .

Without thinking I grabbed the man’s arm, twisting it behind his back at a sharp angle. .

“What’s your name?” I snarled, pressing a knee into his back to force him down. .

He didn’t answer right away, shaking with pain. He turned pale and swallowed. .

“Michael Cale. What is it to you, asshole?” he said cockily, smirking until I twisted again, making him yell. .

“It matters to me,” I snarled into his ear, “because I have reason to believe you just hurt a very nice young lady I know,” I gritted my teeth as I spoke again, allowing myself to remember what I’d been trying to make myself forget. Her name. .

“Does the name Pamela Listrom ring a bell to you, you son of a bitch?” I snapped. His blue eyes widened, and he paled a bit. .

“Pam?” he laughed, shaking his head. “Man, Pam’s not nice. Not much of a lady, either,” he laughed again, but cut off with a gasp as I swiftly dislocated his shoulder. .

“Why did you hurt her?” I hissed. Despite the overwhelming desire to just kill this sick fuck and be done with it, I had to know what she had done to make him think she deserved pain. .

All smugness was gone, and he spoke softly now. .

“She came to me. She was in real bad shape. She needed a hit, but she couldn’t pay for it, so I told her I’d get it for her, no charge, if she gave me something else in return.” .

If she gave me something else in return..

I froze then, long enough for him to stand. The drunk feminine blood that had warmed my veins chilled, and I stayed staring at the wall in front of me. No. She couldn’t. Sure, she drank like the best slovenly trucker, but I knew she was more of a lady than that. She had to be. .

When I realized he wasn’t in my grasp, I forced myself to tear my gaze back towards the terrified man. .

“Don’t tell anyone about this, and don’t you ever come near her again, all right?” I forced myself to say, sure I sounded just as shocked as he looked. .

He nodded rapidly, trying to put his hands up in a defensive gesture, quickly lowering them as a spasm of pain crossed his face. .

“Yeah man, sure, whatever you say,” and then he ran off, leaving me standing in the hall, wondering what the hell I was supposed to do now. .

There was no use denying it anymore. I loved her. Insanely, irrevocably loved her. But so what? I could never have her. I couldn’t have her as some squeaky clean virgin heiress because she would deserve better. Hell, as the junkie I knew her as now she deserved better. Pam. Pretty beryl-eyed, breakfast-cooking Pam. A junkie. No, it couldn’t be. .

I shook my head, clearing it. I couldn’t think about having her, now. All I could do for the moment was make sure she was all right. I made my quickly to the apartment and, without knocking, opened the door. .

The place was a mess. Clothes, magazines, food and other things were strewn everywhere, making my place look like a palace. And, in the middle of it all, sprawled on the floor, was Pam. The smells that had hit me in my apartment were much fiercer now, and if I’d had any of my own blood it would have boiled when I saw the stains on Pam’s bare thighs, the foil wrapper and used rubber strewn carelessly beside her, and the tear tracks running down her face. .

I knelt down beside her, steadfastly refusing to let myself acknowledge the band loosely wrapped around her left arm and the syringe by her fingertips. I ran the backs of my fingers against her cheek, and she blinked her eyes open. They weren’t sparkling gems now; they were foggy pools. But the expression in them, the pain and sadness that were barely masked by the drug she’d shot into her arm, would have made me cry if I still could have. .

“Ambrose?” she mumbled, voice slurred. She reached out, fingers shaking a little. I grasped them, instinctively pressing them to my lips. .

“What’re ya doing here?” she slurred, trying to sit up. I pressed her back and, instead, laid down beside her, wrapping an arm across her shoulders. .

“I was worried about you. That’s all.” .

“Why?” she mumbled, putting her hand over mine. I shrugged. .

“Dunno. You just seem like the type of girl who attracts trouble so I thought I’d check up on you,” I murmured into her hair, hoping the excuse would work. .

It did. She laughed softly. .

“Yeah. I guess I am,” she moved her hand, and I tensed when I saw that there was blood on her palm. She turned to me, eyes filled with questions. .

“Why are you bleeding?”

I sighed, shaking my head. .

“Not my blood,” I whispered, gently putting a finger against her lips when she tried to interrupt. .

“I’ll explain in the morning. Just get some sleep, okay? I’ll be right here if you need anything.” .

“Mmmkay,” she murmured, closing her eyes. I sighed heavily and, after allowing myself one deep breath of her perfumed hair, did the same.