Aberle was also in agreement, but also quite drunk that night. “Widower…? Widow…? Widowex? What’s the gender-neutral form of–…” He murmured to himself in German for a few seconds before proudly declaring, “WINDEX. Wait. No, wait–” I collapsed into laughter. Aberle’s a gem.
Author: C.L. Zeitstück
That night was probably the final push I needed to spiral past the point of no return. Because, like I said, sometimes I obsessively pinpoint things. That was my point of no return.
A countdown was begun.
We, of course, moved on from the topic because neither of us never like to dwell on negativity or shit-talk others. Just kidding– we bitched about all of Kara’s personal failings for like three hours and we got drunk.
I was right on the border between blind drunk and blackout drunk when Kieran playfully grabbed my jabot and kissed me.
But like I said, I never really met the guy. Silas really broke when the household turned on us. I mean, imagine finding out your entire history, trauma, death, and family was all made up by someone who wanted to ensure they had one more twisted tie to sink into someone else’s soul. I’d have a two-year long breakdown and refuse to talk to anyone, too.
“I– I don’t know–” Kieran choked. “That–… salve… Does– it happen to have coconut in it?”
Frowning, I fished out the tin. And then I saw it. “Oh, shit. Coconut oil. Is that related to–?” I was hesitant to reference it, as Kara was right there, but what I was thinking of was that the Methusilla vampires of ‘the other plane’ were allergic to chocolate. Nope, not garlic. Chocolate. Don’t ask, I don’t know why either.
Fine. Fine. Obviously, this entity– this fucker was targeting me and those around me. Probably because it thought I wasn’t supposed to exist. And god damn it, maybe it was right. Maybe my even outliving Neb was too much gall for the universe to handle. But Jay Gatsby was never supposed to outlive James Gatz, either. And there he was, using his ‘perfect imagination’ to carve himself into where he never belonged.
I had fallen for Asher. I’m hyper-romantic– me falling for a date isn’t so much of an occasion as it is an eventuality. The feelings were mutual, which was a plus, because people who were in love with me were likely to listen to me talk for long periods of time.
It was getting to the point where Ash and Arkady were objectively spending more time with Zara, from Syracuse, than me, who they lived with. I’d agreed to her coming over the first couple of times, but after, permission of the entire household was just assumed. I was told when I’d be having company in my house. She was over so often that, Ash, without prompting, made her a copy of a key.
In April’s eyes, Kara was defensive, arguing out her ass, and way too sensitive about foundation. She was, of course, correct. In Kara’s eyes, April was arrogant, always felt the need to feel superior to others, and was way too harsh with her surmising. She was also correct.
This devolved into a war wherein one’s friend group too close to the corner of another’s was seen as an all-out territorial dispute. They were both pressuring Neb take sides. This was officially the closest thing to a gang war that’s ever occurred in Marysville, Ohio.
Here’s how deep the delusion sank: See, this group was confronted with evidence, later on, that Sed was probably about as sick as they said they were. Did they say, ‘Shit, my bad’? Nope. Arkady was who piped up with the notion of “I bet the gods knew they were faking their illness, and decided to actually make their lie true. That’s what you get!”
Living Fiction 