MonsterVille
Twenty Eight

“River?”

River glanced towards the door as it creaked open, a sliver of light intruding in the darkness; Mellie’s head peaking around the corner. River kept writing. His little bestiary of monsters had been an amusement, now it was his lifeline. He wrote everything, poured his heart and soul into those pages because it was the only way to keep from going mad.

It was too much.

He had barely been keeping it together, and now he had a few quiet moments to himself? Alone. It was all rushing in. The impossibility of the world he found himself thrust into, the reality of the death and mayhem surrounding him. The sickening sensation that made him want to hurl when he thought about the visage of a woman’s face beneath the broken wreck of the bipedal rat creature he had beaten to death. Beaten with his own two hands… the vomit stung and his eyes watered as he swallowed it back.

“Oh god River,” Mellie breathed out.

He vaguely wondered what expression he was wearing, what his haunted eyes looked like, what he looked like beyond the horrors in his head. Mellie’s eyes flicked over him, head to toe as he sat on the bed and wrote.

“You’re bleeding.” Her gaze lingered on his shoulder where the rat had taken a chunk out of him. He glanced over it himself and let out a small start of surprise. It was an ugly seeping wound; blood, dirt and muck. It should have hurt. A lot. But he didn’t feel a thing. Even looking at it he couldn’t reconcile the bite with his own body—shock. The rational part of his mind realised that. The rational part of his mind was a very small voice.

Mellie touched his shoulder and he jumped, startled by the warmth of her fingers on his clammy skin.

“Take off your shirt.” She instructed. She was already pulling at one side. River stiffly complied as she stripped away the wreck of his top and discarded it. Again the warmth of her fingers pressed into his skin, running along the broken edges of his body. Her free hand rested against his forehead, and her brow furrowed in concern.

“River,” she began cautiously, quietly, “can you feel that?”

He shook his head. She squeezed with surprising force.

“How about now?”

He shook his head again. “I can feel your hand,” he murmured, “but it doesn’t hurt.”

“You’re in shock,”

“Wouldn’t anyone be? If you cut me do I not bleed?” he countered.

“Don’t get all poetic on me.”

River turned his haunted gaze, his waxen face, towards her. He looked up into the soft blue of her eyes and smiled as she tucked a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. She was cute when she was concerned.

“If your cut me, do I not bleed? If you tickle me, do I not laugh?”

“You’ve got the bleeding part down.”

She left and returned a minute later. She disinfected the wound with scrubbing alcohol, she dug the swabs in deep. He didn’t flinch. He should have, he knew that. It should have hurt like hell, but it didn’t. She cleaned him down and dressed the wound. The entire time her brow had that cute little furrow.

“It’s messy.” Mellie finally said, “But it’s not too bad. It could have been a lot worse I mean. You got lucky.”

“Lucky?” River echoed with a laugh, a giggle really that burst into hysteria. “I got lucky? We have radically different definitions of that word.”

“I just meant—”

“I know what you meant.” Mellie’s hand was still resting on his shoulder, and River’s fingers entangled with hers for a moment. It was reassuring to feel the touch of someone who wasn’t actively trying to kill him.”

“You need to get some rest now.” Mellie instructed, “We can talk in the morning.”

“Talk about what?” River mused. “About dead mermaids, cannibalised humans, about the dozen monsters in your lounge room? About crazy bastards trying to kill us all? Or maybe we can talk about the way you look at me, like at any second that hunger is going to snap and I’m going to be the one on the menu.”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she tried to assure him.

“No? Are you sure about that? Do you even know what you’re going to do? What you’re going to become? Aura told me about you. She told me what you are. The way I figure it you could go full-on monster any second.”

River winced as her grip tightened. Apparently he’d struck a nerve.

“I’m going to die.” A fine trickle of blood ran down his chest, “Maybe tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the day after. I know that, I’d be an idiot not to know that.” He winced again as her claws dug deeper. He could feel the edges of her fingers, the serrated blades that were her nails, she was shifting, her monstrous nature pushing through with her anger. He didn’t think she’d even realised it yet, but her iris had expanded, a hint of red bleeding through. “Maybe it’ll be Danny, or the rats, or maybe”—he stared into her inhuman eyes—“Maybe it’ll be you.

“Can you honestly tell me that voice inside isn’t saying cut your losses? Kill me. Eat me. Do what monsters do.”

“Do you want me to kill you?” Mellie’s voice dropped an octave, there was something primal in it, a hunger. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of her bloodied fingers, of the wreck she had made of his un-bandaged shoulder. She stared intently at the thick red blood coating her nail. Her breathing grew laboured and with a hesitant, hateful, motion she ran those bloody fingers along her lips. She tasted his blood and her eyes exploded red, a terrifying crimson that burnt across the iris and eclipsed the whites. She sucked the blood from her fingers and moaned in ecstasy.

He was looking at the monster now, not the girl, and the monster was beautifully terrifying. River breathed out slowly. Aware any sudden movement might be his last. Her inner monster brought to the surface. The changes were slight compared to some of what he had seen; the pale features, the red eyes, and of course the claws—elongated razor edged nails that sliced skin like air. It was the change in her posture, the way she looked at him, that exposed the monster. Every inch of her was suddenly the predator—the hungry predator looking at its next meal.

“Say it River.” He shuddered at her voice, the chills that raked down his spine, “Tell me you want to die by my hand and it will end here and now. Your pain and mine will be over. Just say the words, tell me it’s what you want.”

River swallowed hard. Looking into those crimson eyes—the weight of his life baring down on him—he wanted to say yes. Even if he lived what would become of him? A whore to be bred for the monster’s dinner? A broken remnant like Princess? Slave to the monsters, willing to do anything, to sell out anyone, for another precious moment of a torturous existence?

He opened his mouth. Her fingers curled around his throat.

“Speak up.”

She leant in so close he could taste his blood on her breath. The warmth of her body baring into him. It was terrifying and stimulating. One word. Just one word and he could end it. His eyes were fixed to hers. She was so close a breath would have meant a kiss.

“Just say it.”

“Get your fucking hands off him!”

That wasn’t what any of them had expected.

Mellie turned, her edged-nails slicing along River’s throat, blood pouring over her hands as she turned and the flash of a woman collided with her. She was startled, surprised. So was River. The most insignificant details leapt out at him; like the way the curtains fluttered in the breeze of the open window. Or the golden sheen of the hair whipping past him.

Or the fact it was his ex-girlfriend Madelina colliding with Mellie and sending her careening into the wall with an epic clash of flesh on wood. Maybe it was just his imagination but the room had become deathly cold. His breath rose as mist. That wasn’t his imagination. Neither was the fact Lina was admirably holding her own.

It took River a second too long to realise he should be trying to keep his throat from bleeding out. He wrapped his hands around the bleeding mess and held tight while the two women fought tooth and nail. The last thing he saw was Lina pounding her fists into Mellie before he blacked out.