Kip wanted to laugh again, but he held it in. His cousin was scared, looked ready to run away screaming at any second. So Kip hid his glee, put on a scowl, leaned his forehead against the bathroom wall.
“Help me, Zak. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Zak glanced at the phone, was tempted to scoop it up and ask for help regardless of what Kip had said. He didn’t know if the police would be able to trace a cell phone call to that address, but he hoped they could.
“Help me, Zak. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Kip sounded like himself again. A moment ago, he sounded like someone completely different, the same person that had roared at all the students in the attic, scared them so bad that they scattered like alley cats.
He sounded like a monster. A demon. His voice had been deeper, gruff, full of rage and venom.
But now, his dorky, frail cousin seemed to be back. Resting his head against the wall and weeping softly. As he did this, the flesh of his back boiled and bubbled, zits growing and bulging right before Zak’s eyes.
“Kip,” Zak said as he took a tentative step forward, placed a soft hand on Kip’s shoulder. “We have to take you to someone, get you looked at. Something’s fucked up here, man. Maybe a doctor can figure out what’s going on. Maybe we should call your mom and—”
“No!” It was still Kip’s voice, but with a hint of demon.
“Kip…”
“Please, Zak. She’s worked so hard for this. We shouldn’t bother her, okay? We can figure this out, me and you. And if it gets worse… okay. We’ll see a doctor. But right now… I mean it. I feel great.”
You feel great? Are you fucking serious! You almost bled to death! You look like a nightmare!
“I just don’t see how it could possibly get any worse. I thought you were gonna die, man. I really did. Ah, fuck… my ribs. Chuck got me good.” Zak grimaced as he massaged his side, then slid his tongue over the drying blood on his lower lip. Through all the excitement, all the worry for Kip’s life, he had been numb to his own injuries. But they were reminding him of their existence now.
“Whatever’s inside of me, they’re crazy for it.”
“Yeah, we’ve fucking figured that already. What did you think would be different this time, Kip? Don’t try and tell me you didn’t expect that shit.”
“Not like this. It… it feels good. When they… you know, when they suck it out of me. It feels good. But then it started to hurt… I thought they were killing me.”
“They almost did kill you.”
“It’s like I can’t help it. It feels so good, I lose track of what’s going on… lose track of my own existence. When they’re feeding off me, I feel like a god, Zak. I can’t explain it any better than that.”
Kip sort of smiled when he said this, eyes blank and staring through the wall. He seemed to snap out of it, blinked rapidly before turning back to Zak.
“But I’m scared. I don’t know what to do.”
“Fucking get help. Maybe a doctor can’t help, maybe a doctor will be just as confused as we are. But we won’t know until we get you checked out.” Zak wanted to grab Kip by the shoulders and shake him.
“I don’t want to see a doctor.”
“You can’t be fucking serious. You like this shit, don’t you? You don’t want to see a doctor because you’re scared they’ll make it all go away, right? You’re scared you’ll just be the same old Kip, scared you’ll be the Toad again.”
“I am the Toad! I’ll always be the fucking Toad!”
Zak backed up. Kip’s skin frenzied now like boiling water.
“I’m scared of what the doctor will say to me, Zak. What if I was right, huh? What if I’m not human or something.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it? Why? Is it any more ridiculous than my acne spitting out addictive pus? Or my blood acting like some kind of fucking hallucinogen?”
Zak had no answer. Hallucinogen?
“And what if the doctors can’t figure it out? What then? They’ll call in specialists, other doctors, and I’ll turn into one big fucking science experiment. Well fuck that. I’m done with people treating me like I’m less than human. Because I’m not. I’m way more.”
Kip stepped out of the bathroom into the hallway, his skin beginning to calm to a slow, rhythmic pulse. The blood was caked there, drying and flaking off as he moved.
“But, Zak. What happened today… that won’t ever happen again. Okay? I promise.”
Zak had so much he wanted to say, but couldn’t make his mouth move. He just nodded and watched as Kip walked back down the hall toward the attic where he ascended the stairs. Kip didn’t pull the stairs back up behind him, and Zak wondered if Kip wanted him to follow, but there was no way in hell he was going back up there. The room had blood all over the place, discarded clothing, cum and sweat.
Zak had to concentrate to calm his breathing. There were stains on the bathroom wall spotted with Kip’s blood. The spot where his forehead had been resting.
Zak stepped forward, sniffed the blood, eyelids fluttering and chest tingling.
I gotta get the fuck outta here.
He was in his car and heading down the street. No destination in mind, just needed to get the hell away from Kip and that house before he became just like everyone else. He wanted a drink, wanted some pills, wanted a big fat line of coke. But most of all… he wanted Kip. He wanted to taste what everyone else was tasting, experience the high that was driving them all crazy.
No. I can’t… I can’t ever.
He lit a cigarette with shaking fingers and just drove.
—12—
“Chelsea, open this door!” Pound pound pound. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Just leave me alone, Dad! P-please…”
Chelsea stared in the mirror, the flesh on both cheeks torn open by her own fingernails. Similar scratches and gouges decorated her arms and thighs, and even though the pain was awful, she dug her nails in and scratched, scraping away thin strips of meat from her face.
The scratches hurt, but it was nothing compared to the pain within. The pain that begged her for more of the Toad, for more of his pus.
Where the fuck is Chuck!
She didn’t know how long ago he had left for school to find Kip and bring back more for them to share. He said he would be right back… but that son of a bitch never showed. He lied, he lied!
Chelsea screamed, smashed her fist into the mirror and cracked it, ignored the blood now dripping from her knuckles.
“Chelsea! That’s enough, goddamnit. If you don’t open this door in the next five seconds, I’ll bust it down myself! Chelsea!”
“Fuck you, Dad. Fuck you! You don’t understand! You’ll never understand!”
“Chelsea!” Her mother’s voice. “What has gotten into you?”
Tears flowed from her eyes and thinned out the blood oozing from her wounds. She paced back and forth, her footsteps heavy and pounding. Her arms flailed as she knocked over her lamp, her books, her toys, her picture frames.
Chuck’s smiling face stared up at her from the cracked frame just at her feet. A violent burst of sobbing took her then as she fell onto her ass, cradled the photo.
“Where are you, Chuck? You said you’d come back but you lied to me and I hate you but I love you so bad. Oh God… please, Chuck. Please.”
Tap.
It came from the window.
Tap.
Chelsea gasped, jumped to her feet. Her sweatshorts were soaked with blood, and the carpet was spotted with it here and there.