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Afterward, I lounged in my room most of the day, checking my phone every few minutes to make sure it was turned on and still charged, which it was. It never rang, though. I couldn’t remember the last time it had gone so long in absolute silence, especially on a Saturday. It was just another indication of how much had changed in recent days.
A Matrix marathon started at 2:00. I made it through the first two alright, but about a quarter of the way through the third one, my attention started to drift back to other matters. I wasn’t sure if it was because it was by far the weakest of the three movies or because I’d just reached my threshold of time having passed without obsessing over Bo. Either way, by 9:00, I’d already dialed Bo twice, and both times I ended up listening to his voice mail. At 9:20, after giving my parents the vague excuse of needing to run to a friend’s house for just a minute, I was in my car heading toward his house.
As I pulled into his driveway, I looked up at the dark windows and wondered if I was making a mistake. What if his mom was sleeping? What if he was with someone else? What if he was some kind of homicidal monster and I was walking into a trap?
The end of the driveway showed me that the car wasn’t there. Either Bo was out in it or his mom was gone.
Turning off the engine, I sat in the car considering whether or not to start it back up and leave rather than going to the door. Something in me wouldn’t let me leave, though. It seemed that I had to see Bo, not only for peace of mind, but to silence the constant clamor of him in my head, in my heart, in every single cell of my body. It was as if something inside me searched relentlessly for him in the air around me, seeking. Always seeking.
When I finally felt courageous enough to approach the door, I knocked lightly, hesitant to disturb his mother if she was in there, but I got no answer. The house was silent and still.
I had opened the car door and was about to slide in behind the wheel when a muffled sound reached my ears. I remembered the basement, the room Bo had taken me to. I imagined that it was likely some kind of hangout for him, one worth checking out if I had any intention of finding him.
Quietly, I walked around to the steps. I peered down the dark well. At the bottom was the old red door. I could see pale streaks of light shining out from around the curtain that covered the small window towards the top.
Though I felt compelled to find Bo, for a minute, I reconsidered. Approaching the door felt wrong somehow, like I was stalking him or spying on him, overstepping bounds that we hadn’t yet had a chance to set.
A voice in my head reminded me that if Bo had wanted to talk to me, he would’ve either called or answered his phone when I’d called. But he hadn’t.
Then, as if helping me to make up my mind, Bo’s tangy, soapy citrus scent wafted up the steps, creeping out from beneath the door to lure me in. I felt the invisible strings of it tugging at me, tugging at my guts.
Another muffled thump had me descending the steps. I raised my hand to knock on the door when movement caught my eye.
The curtain that covered the little window had been pushed to the side a tiny bit, leaving a small triangular opening through which I could see.
Inside, Bo was on his knees in the center of the concrete floor, kneeling on a black towel. He was shirtless and covered in blood spatter. Under the slimy red sheen, I could see a sickly greenish black color seeping across his chest, radiating from the left side outward. It was darkest over his heart and it pulsed as if gangrenous death was being pumped throughout his body with every slow squeeze of the muscle. That, however, was not the most alarming part. The thing that caught and held my attention was his face.
The blackness hadn’t reached that high yet and his face wasn’t covered in blood like the rest of him. I could see his skin perfectly. It was almost entirely translucent. I could make out the intricate webbing of his blood vessels as clearly as if they were drawn on the surface with an ink pen. But apart from the roadmap of his veins, there were other lines, deep cracks in the skin itself, like the damaged plaster of an ancient sculpture.
In the center of his face, I saw that his normally hypnotic eyes had been affected as well. Gone was that rich almost-black color, washed away by a milky pale green that nearly matched the whites of his eyes. Something in them looked completely wild, feral even, and they started a shudder in me that rippled throughout my entire body. Though I was afraid, I continued to watch Bo, unable to tear my eyes away from the window.
Bo moved, arching his back and letting his head fall back on his shoulders. He let out an agonizing howl that had the tendons in his neck straining beneath his bizarre skin. With a moan that bordered on a cry, he raised his right hand to his mouth. Bearing four elongated teeth, two on the top and two on the bottom, Bo sank his teeth into what looked like a bag of blood he’d been holding.
I watched in nauseous horror as he made sucking, chewing motions and devoured the contents of the bag, blood dripping off his chin and falling onto the towel. He closed his eyes. Pleasure was written all over his face, belied only by the trace frown that pinched his brows together, as if he was resented the euphoria, wanted to resist it.
My breath was coming in shallow pants and I felt a fearful sweat break out on my forehead. My heartbeat throbbed in my ears and pounded behind my eyes. I wanted to look away, but it was like watching a train wreck—I couldn’t not watch. I was frozen, rooted to the spot where I peeped through the curtains.
Just when I thought for sure I was going to throw up, Bo quieted and his eyes snapped open. He turned his head a few degrees and looked right at me. I’m certain the surprise in his eyes mirrored the shock in my own, right before sheer panic set in.
Frozen no more, I turned and bolted up the steps. Behind me, I heard the sounds of the basement door opening and Bo bounding up the stairs behind me, but I didn’t look back. I ran for all I was worth.
It seemed like it took me ten minutes to get to my car, though it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. My mad dash wasn’t fast enough, though. When I opened the car door, Bo was standing in front of the hood, chest heaving, staring at me.
“Ridley, let me explain.”
His voice was gravelly, like his throat was dry. I thought of the previous night and I shivered.
“Stay away from me,” I shouted, slamming the door shut and starting the car.
