The first memory I have of Caleb was on the night my parents kicked me out. My mother caught me with her lipstick, and my father forced me out at gunpoint after. I can still remember what he said to me. “What good are you?” I could never get it out of my head, and at some point, I just stopped trying.
Not sure what I would have done if Caleb hadn’t been there. It was a rainy night, water coming down like it aimed to flood the whole city. All I had on me were the clothes on my back, $5.27, and a piece of glass I had broken off of a window. I was working up the courage in an alleyway when this stranger walked up to me out of the rain. He throws some old tarps in front of me and says, “Yeah, you. If you’re not doing anything at the moment. Mind lending me a hand?”
I didn’t think he was talking to me at first. He must’ve mistaken me for a friend, I thought. But I didn’t correct him. Instead, I hid away the glass and asked him what he wanted. “Well, I lost my umbrella, and I don’t exactly have a tent, but then I found a bunch of these old poles and a tarp lying around in some dumpster. Figured it’d make a pretty good rain shield. So you wanna help?” I thought he was joking at first. The rain was coming down hard, but he didn’t seem to mind it at all. He just stood there, letting it beat down on him without even flinching. What did he even need a tarp for? In the end, it didn’t matter because he didn’t need a tarp. He needed my help.
We worked all night trying to pitch up that thing which was harder than it sounded. All of the poles he’d found were of a different height, and we had nothing to nail them to, the tarp was full of holes, and the whole thing kept collapsing under the weight of the rain. I tried giving up a few times, but Caleb wouldn’t hear a word of it and hounded me to keep working every time. “Look, if you don’t do it, then I’m gonna have to ask the weird guy on the corner for help, and that creep’s been eye banging me all night. So please, do not make me ask the creep.” And it worked. He kept me off my ass the entire night until we finally managed to pitch up the tarp.
The downside was by the time we did, the rain had all but stopped and left us soaked to the bone. Defeated, I was about to wander off to some corner when I saw Caleb crawl underneath the tarp.
“I don’t think it’s going to rain again tonight,” I said, trying to break it to him easy.
“Fuck that.” He said. “We spent all night gettin’ this fucker up, and I’m gonna enjoy it. Rain or no.” He then crossed his arms and gave an exaggerated huff like a belligerent five-year-old. I burst out laughing when I saw that, and I’ll never forget how good of a laugh it was. It didn’t last, but it was nice while it did. It almost made me forget about my soaked clothes.
There wasn’t a lot of space under the tarp, so me and Caleb had to huddle close to each other. As uncomfortable as it was, it might have ended up saving our lives. The cold air made quick work of us, and before long, we were shivering like wet dogs. So I huddled close to Caleb, and he to me. We didn’t have much heat, but it was more than we would have had alone. We were like each other’s little bonfire, flickering together in the night.
By the time morning came, the temperature had risen to something more tolerable, and our clothes had dried just enough to not kill us. I didn’t come out from under the tarp, though. Not with Caleb still lying there beside me. And neither did he. We just sat there under a tent that did not work, scrunched up against the other like misbehaving school children.
“Name’s Caleb, by the way.” He told me after a while.
“Dustin,” I replied.
“Good to meet you, Dustin.”
“Yeah. You too.”
We sat in awkward silence for a moment.
“So, you new in town?”
I couldn’t answer. The words simply did not come, but they didn’t need to.
“Want me to give you the tour?” Caleb said.
“No. That’s alright. I don’t want to trouble you.”
“Okay then. Consider it your payment. For helping me pitch up this bad boy.” At that moment, he slapped a hand against one of the support beams and unintentionally caused the whole thing to come down on top of us. I couldn’t help but laugh again when the tarp fell over us, and this time, Caleb joined me. I’ll never forget what that was like, not hearing him laugh but laughing with me. Two homeless kids buried under a makeshift tent and giggling like third graders learning a new swear. When we shrugged the wreck off of us, I said, “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”
And his tour lasted for six long years, taking us all over Seattle. He showed me every corner I thought I knew and some I never imagined existed. Not all were nice. One time we accidentally wandered into a crackhouse and almost got stabbed by a homeless man. But there were good times too. So, so many good times. There weren’t a lot of places kids like us could be seen. If we were lucky, we’d have just been carted off for loitering. The pier was one such place, but that never stopped Caleb. A fish market had come into town one week, and Caleb was dead set on getting himself a lobster.
“I hear they taste amazing!” He told me. “I mean, they have to if people eat so many of them.”
Just like that, we were off to the market. We couldn’t actually buy anything, of course, but we got our lobster. Caleb had a lot more experience in that sort of thing, so I was set up to be the distraction while he snatched one from a nearby tank.
“Are you sure?” I asked. “I’m not really an actor. I can’t-“
“Then don’t act,” Caleb said. “You want some food too, right?”
“Yeah, but-“
“So ask for it. Look at you. You’re scrawny, scuzzy, and smell like last century’s garbage. They’ll eat that shit up like candy.”
“But I can’t-“
“Of course, you fucking can, Dusty. You’ve just gotta want it a little bit more. Just imagine, the whole time you’re out there, that you’re chowing down on freshly cooked lobster. Butter drizzlin’ down your face, that sweet lobstery taste in your mouth, violin music playing in the background while butlers with entire trees shoved up their asses wait on you.”
“What?”
“Okay, metaphors breakin’ down, but you get what I mean, right?”
I thought about what he said for a moment. Butter, butlers, and the taste of lobster on my tongue. “What do lobsters taste like?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Sea-y?”
I laughed again, which prompted Caleb to say, “Well then, what do you think they taste like, huh?”
I thought about it for a moment before saying, “Like crushed raspberries. The kind where all the seeds are removed, and then it’s lathered into a freshly back hazelnut crust. And when you bite into it, part of it dribbles down your lip, so you reach up to whip it away only to then lick it off your hand. All warm and gooey and just the right amount of sweet.”
I didn’t realize how lost I got in my description until I looked back at Caleb. He was staring at me with this shocked expression as if I’d confessed some dark secret.
“Dammit. I’d like to change my answer, please. That sounds so much better!”
I smiled. “Really?”
“Yes, really. So go out there and just imagine that. You’ll do great.”
“You think so?”
“Of fucking course. Now come on!”
It was remarkably easy getting onto the fairgrounds, even with all the gates they’d set up. We snuck our way towards one of the shellfish vendors, where we spied a massive taken absolutely stuffed with lobsters. While Caleb snuck around back, I approached the vendor from the front and just started speaking. I can’t remember exactly what I said, but whatever it was thoroughly distracted the clerk. All I had to think about was Caleb and me scarfing down mouthfuls of lobster, and the words just came to me. And it worked. I didn’t even know what I was doing, just that I was doing it well.
That is until a loud crash came from behind the counter, and I heard Caleb yell, “Run, Dusty! Lobsters are evil!!” He had already hopped the counter by the time I looked back and saw a large congregation of lobsters scattered amongst the remains of a now broken tank. I barely had time to think before Caleb grabbed me by the hand and raced away from the booth.
We tore through the crowds like rabid dogs were on our tails, bobbing and weaving between dozens of confused guests. I figured there was no one chasing us, not when we were so far away from the lobster stand, but I didn’t stop us. The world was rushing past so quickly that it disappeared into a blur of color and shapes, and all that was left was Caleb and me. I could have gotten lost in that madness for hours, just him and me holding onto each other.
“Damn it! Where the hell’s the exit in this place?!” Caleb exclaimed after a while of running around like headless chickens. He’d stopped us in the center of the bizarre and was frantically looking around for any sort of sign. I couldn’t help but smile at that.
“Come on,” I said as I squeezed his hand and ran off down one of the isles, this time dragging him behind me. He may not have known where he was going, but he knew I’d get him there. I couldn’t have asked for more.
Eventually, we found ourselves outside the fairground, panting and sweating in an alley down by the shore. It took us a minute to catch our breath, and when we did, we realized we were still holding hands. It felt awkward at first because I wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be awkward. Neither of us let go for the longest time, trying to figure out if the other wanted us to or not.
“So, uhhhh,” Caleb said, breaking the silence. “You good?”
A shiver ran down my neck. “Y-Yeah. I’m alright.”
We stood there for a moment longer, but Caleb made sure the quiet didn’t have time to settle “So, I didn’t get the lobster, but-“ He held up his free hand to show a single shelled leg with bits of white flesh hanging from the severed end. “I broke off this little guy. You wanna bite?”
I smiled again and took the leg before cracking it at the joint. I hadn’t off the bigger chunk to Caleb and started sucking out the meat from my own.
“Oh Christ!” He cried out as he took a bite. “This tastes fucking awful.”
“I guess it does,” I replied.
And it was the best meal I’d ever had.
Unfortunately, it would come to be one of the only meals I had. As time pressed on, things got harder and harder. Food became scarce, even with all our dumpster diving and thievery. It happened slow at first. One day we would be sharing a couple old bagels; the next, we’d only have one and a half, the following had only one, and soon we were licking crumbs off the bottom of old bags. Hunger started eating at my insides, and pretty soon, even Caleb started showing signs of starvation.
The worst part wasn’t the hunger, however. If that was it, I’m sure we would have found a way through. It was the sorrow that came with it. I can’t say it was really like sadness. It was more like a weight had been put on your brain and squeezed out whatever energy you might have had. You were too tired to be happy, and soon you would be left wallowing. Some days he didn’t even get out of bed. We just sat there in whichever corner of the streets we’d made out home, staring off into space in total silence. I could feel myself rotting from the inside out. I didn’t move, I didn’t talk, I didn’t think. I wasn’t good for anything. Every day was another reminder of what I failed to do, be it finding some actual food or just getting off my ass. And all the while, I was letting Caleb rot with me. He didn’t talk as often anymore. He barely even looked at me. I didn’t blame him. I’d have hated me too.
I just needed some relief. One day where this crushing weight didn’t suffocate me. That was all. Which is when I stumbled into Sand Point. For those who don’t know, Sand Point is to Seattle what Compton is to Los Angeles. Is the place you go to get things done that you probably shouldn’t be doing. Most of the people there are just trying to live their lives, but I wasn’t there for them. I stumbled around for a bit, looking like a corpse left to bake on a highway until I was stopped by a man in an alleyway.
“Hey, kid. You don’t look so good.” He hissed at me in a half-whisper. “Why don’t you sit down for a second. Take a load off.”
I shouldn’t have done it. I should have walked off and left him far behind me. But I was so very tired. I plopped myself down against the wall he leaned against, finding little relief in getting off my feet.
“So what’s got you down, now?” The man asked.
I remember raising an eyebrow at him but not saying a word. He seemed to get the message, though.
“Alright, alright. Don’t tell me. Seems like something got you down, though. We’ve all been there, junior, for one reason or another. Terrible thing. I can’t fix it, but I might have something that can help.”
I wasn’t surprised. That man wasn’t the first peddler I had met. I pulled myself back onto my feet and started walking away, only for the man to chase after me. “Hang on, hang on, hang on. I know what you’re thinking, but this ain’t like that. It’s just a little booster to help you get through the day. I won’t even charge you nothing.”
“I-I’d really rather not.” I increased my pace, hoping to lose the man.
“Then what’re you going to do? Get yourself a prescription and have them write up some happy pills for you? Or are you just going to go back and wallow around again?”
I stopped at that. My first thought was that he must have been spying on me, but it was dashed before long.
“Look, we all just want a break from it all sometimes. Nothing major, nothing to be ashamed of. It can be hard out there. Don’t you just want to relax a little bit? Take a load off for a little while? Just for a little bit, and then you’ll be right as rain. No big deal.”
I rubbed my eyes as he talked and felt that crushing weight bare down on me. I tried to think it over, but I was too tired to even do that. I thought I must have looked so pathetic, being barely able to make up my own mind.
“A little won’t work, right?” I asked.
“Of course not. And if you don’t like it, you don’t have to come back. Simple as that.”
I didn’t need to think about it for much longer. I felt another wave of exhaustion wash over me, and a moment later, I was walking away with a small bag full of white powder. I couldn’t go back to Caleb; I didn’t want him to see me like that. Searching around, I found a small empty alleyway tucked into some forgotten corner of Sand Point. I fished an old syringe, a rusty spoon, and a lighter from a nearby dumpster and got to work. I didn’t have the stomach to take all of it at first. Instead, I filled the syringe up to the smallest amount I thought would still work. I hung the needle over my vein for a second, letting my doubt run its course before jabbing the needle down.
The relief was almost instantaneous. A dull warmth spreads through me, relaxing muscles I didn’t realize were tensed. Gentle hands massage my skull and let my thoughts float through me like grains of sand in water. Above all, however, there was an overwhelming feeling of content. I felt as though I could wander to the ends of the earth and back, but at the same time didn’t need to. I could stay sitting right there, and everything would be wonderful. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt that, and I had no intention of letting it pass.
I didn’t notice when he arrived. He could have been standing at the mouth of the alley for hours for all I knew. I remember noticing a shadow out of the corner of my eye and rolling my head over to see Caleb standing there. He could see me, that much I was certain, but I didn’t care. There was no shame or guilt. All he did was stand there and nothing more.
He approached me before long. Had I been in the right state of mind, I thought he was going to yell at me. At least until I would have seen his eyes. There wasn’t any anger in them or fear or even hunger. All I saw were my own tired eyes staring back at me.
He didn’t say a word. Instead, he slowly reached down to pluck out the needles sticking out of my arm, refilled it, and then joined me in unrequited bliss.
Things only got worse from there. Every other night you would find us lying in some dumpster or an abandoned apartment, needles in our arms and smiles on our faces. We kept promising to each other that this would be our last dose and after, we’d stand ourselves up and get to work. Every single time we told ourselves that, and every single time, we lied. Over time, our tolerance built up so much that we had to start taking harder and larger doses. On a few occasions, we shot up even while we were still in the middle of another high. But we still had each other.
There wasn’t much we could have done besides make sure the other didn’t choke on their own vomit, but we still did it. We made sure to never shoot up alone and made sure we only ever used the same needle. We even worked together to collect the funds needed to sustain our habit. It never amounted to more than pickpocketing or selling up some valuable-looking piece of trash to the nearest pawn shop, but it wouldn’t have worked alone. I’m not sure we were happy. I’m not sure we were much of anything anymore. But we slept all the easier, and that was something.
Things continued like this for a while until, eventually, our recklessness caught up with us. I knew we couldn’t have stayed safe forever. Eventually, a batch was going to be tainted, or a track mark would get infected, or maybe one of our needles would be infected with something deadly. But even I couldn’t have hoped to imagine what eventually befell us.
At first, I thought it was a simple fever. Something definitely worth worrying over, but nothing we could have hoped to fix. I hoped it would go away on its own, but instead, it just got worse. Every day, my head grew warmer and warmer until my brain felt like it was being cooked alive. I was too hot for a blanket and yet too cold to not have one. I was constantly shivering throughout the day as sweat poured down over me.
Worst of all was the thirst. My throat acted at all hours of the day, and no matter how much rainwater I drank, it was never satisfied. There were times I could even swear my throat was on fire and burning its way out of me. It got so bad I eventually took to sucking the sweat off my skin just to find a shred of relief.
Caleb was mortified when he found out. He forced me to stay in whatever old mattress or pile of cardboard we called a bed and did his best to help me. If it wasn’t for him, I would’ve died of thirst a long time ago. Day in and day out, he kept a shoveled bottle full of water to me that he fished out of public bathrooms. He barely had time to shoot up with all the help he gave me. Not the best way to curve an addiction, believe me, but it definitely helped Caleb get better. I, on the other hand, only got worse.
The fever and the thirst were just the start. My eyes were the first in the next wave to start acting up. They grew incredibly sensitive before long until I couldn’t open them for even a split second. Every ray of light burned to witness, even through my eyelids, and I had to wear a blindfold just to keep the pain down. My skin had a similar problem. The clothes I wore irritated it to no end. It was like I could feel every fiber of fabric, and all that information was drowning me. Sunlight was by far the greatest culprit. Even the tiniest ray made me feel like I was burning alive, and soon I could barely stand to be outside. If it wasn’t for Caleb, I’m not sure what I would have done.
He hid me in a dumpster at first, hoping to keep me out of the light. Then, he managed to find a room in some crackhouse for me to take refuge in. By day he brought me buckets upon buckets of water to sacrifice to my thirst, and by night, he fended off whichever crackhead would come to try and take our room. I’m not sure when he had time to sleep between all that, but he was somehow always ready to do what needed to be done. All the while, I could barely open my eyes.
The only thing worse than fighting off that disease was knowing I wasn’t the reason I survived it. Caleb worked himself to death and back, just keeping me alive while all I could do was lay there, moaning. I tried to make him go and outright pleaded with him, but he wasn’t hearing it. Every time I so much as mentioned the prospect, he’d reply, “Oh yeah. Well fucking make me.” I hated when he said that because I knew I couldn’t. I just had to hope I’d get better because if Caleb ever did decide to leave, I would surely die, unable to even get up from bed.
One night, however, things changed. I was sucking on my arm again and licking up what little sweat I could when Caleb came in with a small water bottle full of some new liquid.
“What is it?” I asked and kneeled down next to me.
“Nothing. I just-“ He paused. “Thought it might help with all this.”
I peeked out from behind my blindfold and saw something dark and viscous sloshing around inside said bag. “Are you sure that’s water?”
“Yes!” Caleb blurted out. “I mean, along with some other stuff. I put in some…some old energy drinks I found in the trash and-and some soup broth I bartered off some waiter. Chicken soup! It’s supposed to make you feel better, right?”
I didn’t think about it for long. He could have told me it was old milk, and I still would have drunk it. I snatched the bottle out of his hand and down the whole thing in a few quick gulps. Months of disappointment had primed me for such, but the moment that liquid touched my tongue was like the first second of a whole new life. Warmth flooded through my veins, and scrubbed away the gunk clouding my mind. The pain in my throat finally subsided, and my whole body felt flush with life.
“Wow,” I said as I pulled the empty bottle away from my mouth. “What was that stuff?”
I looked to Caleb only to find him gazing back with a look of concern and alarm. If I hadn’t known any better, I’d have thought he was about to run.
“Caleb, are you alright?”
He stared at me for a minute longer before snapping back to reality and stammering out, “What? Yes! Of course. I mean, are you alright? Feeling wise?”
“Yeah. I feel great, actually.” I put the bottle aside and slowly started to push myself back onto my feet. Just like I had hoped, there wasn’t any pain or nausea as I did so. I was actually better! But before I could stand up, Caleb lunged and grabbed me by my shoulders.
“Wow, wow, wow, wow, wow. Hold up there, Dusty. Maybe you shouldn’t be getting up so soon, right?”
“But I feel better.”
“I know annnnnnnnnd-“ He trailed for a second before spitting out, “But, I mean, just because you’re feeling better now doesn’t mean you still aren’t sick. I knew a guy who had the flu once and then got better only to start moving around for a day and then fall back over.”
“What?”
“Look, just stay here, okay?” He said as he slowly lowered me back down to the mattress. “If you’re still feeling better after a few days, then sure, you can leave. But let’s play it safe until then, okay? Don’t want you getting worse after all.”
Something was wrong. That much was obvious. But I couldn’t say he was wrong. It wasn’t like my sickness was going to vanish in an instant. “I guess,” I said as I let him guide me down. He seemed relieved at that and took the bottle I’d set aside before slowly backing up to the door.
“God! Great! Super!” Caleb exclaimed. “You just stay there and rest up, and I’ll see if I can find any more of this.” He shook the empty bag. “So rest up, sleep tight, good night, and I’ll just, uhhhh..yeah!” Just like that, he was gone.
True to his word, he came back the next night with another bottle full of the stuff. I slurped it down like before and once more felt this wave of energy rush through me. I drank every last drop before I thought to see what the substance was for myself and when I turned to Caleb, he again dodged my questions. After that, I didn’t ask again. I was just happy to be rid of whatever I had caught. For the next few days, Caleb kept bringing me back more and more bags of his miracle brew, and with each, I got stronger and stronger. What little light leaked into the room no longer burned to look at, and the fever melting my brain subsided. It didn’t only make me recover, however.
It’s hard to describe how exactly I felt after a few days of drinking that stuff. I didn’t just feel better; I felt more. More alive, more attentive, more than anything I’d ever been before. I could do more than stand back up; I swore I could have jumped over the moon. I went from being so weak I could barely crawl to pacing around the room just to let off some energy. It was more than that too. That weight pressing down on my head was all but gone. My thoughts came through clearer than I believed than ever could. I wasn’t back to being me. I was a better me.
But still, I was stuck in that room. As obvious as it was that I was getting better, Caleb still refused to let me go. “Maybe just wait a little longer. Don’t want to overdo it.” He’d always say while sounding not afraid but concerned. Like I’d shatter if I so much as took a step outside. I tried to be patient at first. I thought that he only wanted to take care of me, but he’d been taking care of me for too long now. He had to know I didn’t need him doing this anymore. Wasn’t it obvious?
I brought it up to him one night. The last night. He’d just brought in another bottle of the mystery substance, and while I was eager to scarf it down, I waited.
“Thanks,” I said, taking the bottle from Caleb.
“No problem. You just keep resting up, okay?” He backed off as he spoke, keeping himself between me and the door.
“Actually, I’m feeling a lot better. Like, a lot a lot better.”
“R-Right, but you could rela-“
“No, I don’t think you understand.” I stood up from the mattress. “I’m not just better anymore. I’m great! I don’t know what’s in that stuff you keep bringing me, but it’s amazing. I feel like I could run a marathon and throw a car. And it doesn’t go away at all. Every day I have to keep pacing around this place just to stop myself from going insane. My eyesights gotten better, I don’t feel like something stuffed my head with cotton, I just feel great.”
I was the only one smiling by the time I finished. Shock had settled on Caleb’s face alongside a deathly paleness. I would’ve sworn he was about to faint if you had asked me.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, and it took him a minute to reply.
“N-Nothing! That’s great. So glad to hear it, Dusty, but we don’t have to move out, like, now or ever. It’s not like we’re paying for the place, you know?” He tried to laugh, but I didn’t share it.
“And you don’t have to keep making night errands anymore. We can go out there again, pitch a tent, find some food, anything. We could even help try and get you clean.”
“That’s…you really don’t have to-“
“Yeah, yeah. It’s a little funny. You helped me get better, and now I can help you! You don’t have to worry anymore. I’m sure I could find some places nearby that might help us. Here, I could even start tonight-“
I went for the door, excitement rushing through me, only to watch Caleb dodge in front of and stop me. He didn’t say anything that time, instead stared at me with more than just shock on his face: fear. He was afraid. And it was all directed at me.
“I’m serious, Caleb. I am fine. You don’t have to worry anymore.”
He didn’t move nor speak, eyes bearing into me like a frightened dog staring into the gaping jaws of a wolf.
“I’m not lying. Look at me.” He was. And he still wouldn’t let me go.
“Caleb, let me through.” I took a step into him, trying to find some way to dodge around him, but he kept getting in my way. He was determined to keep me cooped up in that room, wasting away in bed like a corpse in need of a grave.
“I said let me through!” I rushed at Caleb directly, hoping to bat him away with my arm. Imagine my surprise when I did. That and so much more. I barely even touched him. At least, I don’t think I did. It was like hitting a pillow, and by the time I recognized I’d even realized I had made contact, Caleb was flying through the room. He slammed into one of the walls with a solid thud before falling to the floor in a heap. The drywall he hit was dented with crack racing out from it like legs from a spider, and Caleb himself didn’t move at all when he came to a halt on the floor.
I was so shocked at first. I thought he must have been shot by the way he flew across the room, but I hadn’t heard any gunfire. In fact, I couldn’t hear much of anything, especially not from him.
“Oh my god. Caleb!” I dropped the bag, letting its contents splatter across the floor. I then ran over to him as fast as I could and knelt down next to his crumbled form but had no idea what to do next. I thought he might have broken his neck, so even the idea of moving him seemed fatal. My hands just raced around in the air above him, trying to find some way to hold him, until my eyes got a good look at them.
Even in near-total darkness, I could see something was wrong. The skin on my palms was too pale even for someone sick, and the ends of my fingers were blackened. My nails were odd too. They were just as jagged, long, and chipped as always, but their yellow hue had been replaced with a frighteningly white one that lacked even the slightest transparency. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought they were made of bone.
They weren’t the only thing that caught my eye either. Staring down at Caleb, I noticed a small trickle of something dark running down his forehead. I could barely make out the color, but the shade it took in the dark, I knew all too well. I looked back over at the bottle I’d dropped and the contents that were now stained across the floor, seeing the exact same hue staring back at me.
I stopped my mind before I could put any pieces together. That couldn’t have been right, after all. It was just energy drinks and old soup. It also didn’t taste anything like it. I’d tasted blood before, and that was not it. I had to be sure, though. Caleb had started to stir as I reached out and whipped up a speck of the blood trickling down his cheek. As I raised it to my mouth, I hesitated and, for a split second, prayed. I have never been a religious person, but I had to be wrong. It would taste like vinegar and raw iron. That would be all.
Instead, it was everything I had ever wanted. There wasn’t a taste, and there never had been. It was always a warmth, the kind you felt wrapping around your heart and giving it a great big squeeze. The one that told you someone loved you, and it made all the sense in the world. It was terrible, realizing that, and yet I couldn’t help but smile. With that blood on my tongue, how could I not?
“Dustin?” I looked back down and saw Caleb pushing himself up off the ground. His voice was quiet, but he didn’t look too hurt. Even the cut on his head was barely a nick. It would scar, but it wouldn’t kill him. I wish I could say I cared more, but with the warmth flooding through me, I didn’t need to.
“What’s in the bag?” I asked him, and he sat himself against the wall. Caleb said nothing, his features still drowning in fear.
“Caleb.” I sharpened my gaze at him. “What is in the bottle?”
He couldn’t look at me as he answered, “I thought you were dying, man. With all those needles, you could’ve gotten aids or cholera or something. I didn’t know! And you just kept getting worse and worse and…I-I thought I was going to lose you, so I had this idea. It was stupid, but you couldn’t stand the sun anymore, you were getting paler, and when you were sucking your skin for sweat, I swear it looked like you were trying to take a bite of yourself. So I went to a blood bank, swiped a bag for a hit of heroin with some bored porter and…Well, it worked! You were starting to get so much better, and you were smiling again. Like really smiling. The way he did before all the needles and stuff. So I just kept doing it, and you kept getting better, and I kept doing it, and you kept getting better and…”
He trailed off after that and shrank into himself. I’m glad he did because I needed a minute to let everything sink in. A thousand thoughts rocketed through my mind and shouted over each other until I couldn’t hear a single one. Some were angry, others afraid, but they were all loud. So loud it felt like they were breaking through my skull and spilling out into every corner of my body, every inch filled with screaming voices and raging chaos. I curled my hands into shaking fists, pressing down so hard my fingers broke the skin of my palms. I thought I would hate it to feel blood pouring down from the wounds, but it was far worse to feel nothing. No warmth, no pain, not even blood: just a cold sludge oozing from the cuts.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?!” I spat, Caleb wincing at my words.
“I-I-I tried to, but I just couldn’t. Every time I saw you, I just… I’m so sorry, Dusty.”
Of course, he was. How long had he known? How long did he make me stay in bed regardless? How long had he planned to keep me in that room? Me. Poor little Dustin, who couldn’t handle the truth or even get out of bed.
But not anymore. I wasn’t trapped in bed, I wasn’t useless, and I certainly wasn’t stuck in that room. I could do so much more now, I just knew it, and I didn’t have to sit there hating him anymore. I turned from Caleb and started marching towards the door. If only I was a little faster.
“Wait, Dustin!” Caleb lurched up off the ground and grabbed me by the hand. “Just wait. I don’t know shit about what’s going on, but right now, we’re fine. You’re fine. If you go out, we don’t know what’s going to happen. But you’re safe in here. You don’t have to worry. I can keep bringing you blood. I can help you. Just please stay.”
I had never heard someone care so much before. It all sounded so genuine, too, as if I were reading straight from his mind. I heard every word as clear as day, but I didn’t dare listen. How could I?
“I don’t need your help,” I said as I yanked my hand out of Caleb’s. He didn’t stop, though. Before I could take another step, Caleb tried once again to stop. It would be his last.
The second I felt his fingers skim me was the last straw. Anger exploded through me, and I spun around, swiping a hand out at him as I screamed, “I SAID I DON’T NEED YOUR HELP!” In that split second, I wanted to hurt him. Not much, but enough to satisfy my anger. I even tried to lessen my impact. It didn’t matter in the end, though. I think I hated him too much.
There was barely any resistance, almost like carving through butter. My nails sliced through skin and bone with ease, and before I even knew what was happening, it was done. I don’t think Caleb knew at first. His expression was full of fear and panic, but not from the wound. Not yet. Though, it didn’t take long for the both of us to realize what I’d done.
“CALEB!!”
He gagged as blood began pouring down his throat. It quickly soaked his clothes and began dribbling to the ground just as Caleb thought to cover the gash. Blood leaked between his fingers and was expelled from his mouth in wet coughs. He couldn’t stay standing like that for long. He stumbled in place, trying to catch himself as he lost his strength. I rushed to him at that moment, grabbing him before he could fall, and slowly lowered him onto his back. I thought that if I laid him down, gravity might help to keep the blood in. In a way, it worked. But it didn’t save him.
Caleb had stopped breathing. He was trying with all his might, but all he could take in were massive gulps of blood. I could even hear it gurgling in the back of his throat. I tried to think of something to do, but I couldn’t hear a thing through the storm of my own thoughts. A thousand ideas came and went in seconds, and it was impossible to think straight with all of them. I tried and tried and tried to think of anything that might save him, but in the end, all I could do was sit there and watch him drown.
He didn’t suffer for long. A few moments later, he simply stopped. His eyes were still wide with fear, but there was nothing behind them anymore. It didn’t feel real at first. It was all too simple. There was no grandiose to it. One minute he was moving, the next, he wasn’t, and I felt nothing. Not at first. Not while he could have still woken back up. But as time stretched on and the puddle around him grew, I felt something creeping into me.
A terrible sensation welled up in my gut. It was like a scream or the shredded remains of one. I wanted to say something; I even felt the words bubbling up in the back of my throat, but when I went to speak, all I could muster was a garbled cry. It was too ugly to have been a sob and not enough to realize the swelling in my gullet. I wanted to cry more than anything else. I could at least do that for him. He was my chunk of everything, and I couldn’t even cry for him. What good am I?
I stayed there next to him for I don’t know how long. I must have sounded like a gutted lamb with all the inane bleating I let out. My sorrow was never enough to break my composure. My eyes refused to tear up, and my mouth denied me a true, honest cry. Every second, the pressure in my chest grew and grew, demanding release only to be trapped inside me. I felt as though I was going to burst, and I couldn’t take it any longer. And I didn’t have to.
Caleb may have been gone, but his blood was still warm. I lapped up the tiniest amount from my stained hands and, much to my relief, felt that warmth flow into me. It soothed my swelling body and held me in its welcoming embrace. It told me I was loved. He told me I was loved and in the way only he could. He wasn’t holding my hand; he was my hand. And my heart, my bones, every inch of me his warmth touched. One drop, and there was no more guilt. One drop, and he told me it was alright without saying a word. One drop, and he loved me again.
I wasted no time after. I took the bottle I’d dropped and used it to collect as much of Caleb as I could. When I couldn’t scoop up any more blood, I soaked it up with towels and rang them out into the bottle. All day and all night, I worked to salvage every last drop I could until the bottle was filled to the seams with blood. I then carried Caleb out of that room and far away from the body.
I still have that bottle with me. I’ve been trying to ration it, but it’s been difficult. There have been so many more bad days without Caleb, and my condition hasn’t made things easier. But he’s still with me. With every drink, I can feel him again, holding me close and keeping me warm. I’m not sure for how much longer, though. I don’t like to think about that. I don’t want to finish the blood. I don’t want to kill him.
So I have been trying to find other ways to feed myself. I’ve learned a lot about myself since then and what exactly I can do. It’s been easy finding donors, even at night. There are so many people walking home alone these days and so many others huddling for shelter in dark alleys. There have been tough times, though. Sometimes people get away long enough for the sun to save them. Others tend to not be as helpless as I think. There have been a fair amount of knives and guns, but they don’t stop me for long. None of it will. They can try and stop me all they want, but I won’t let him die again.