When I was a child, I was always different from the other girls in my class, and because of this it was always hard to make friends. While they talked about makeup, and boys. I sat alone under an oak tree reading Fangoria magazines, or a Stephen King book. I was a horror fanatic. I had seen all the classics from Carpenter to Fulci. Horror was in my blood. It was my getaway from reality. As fucked up as it sounds, horror was my comfort in an otherwise dark and miserable world.
The bullying I could handle. But the torment never ended there. At home I was my father’s punching bag. Mum tried to stop him, but then he would turn his drunken rage on her. Then the next day my mother would be cooking breakfast, like everything was fine and dandy, pretending that nothing had happened the previous day, as she served my father his bacon and eggs. While her body was covered in bruises.
I couldn’t take that endless torture any longer. I decided I was going to run away. Where? I had no idea. All I knew is I was getting myself as far away as I could. And after school one day I didn’t walk home. I walked in a completely random direction, and just kept going for miles, my destination was unknown. But for the first time in my life, I felt free from my worries.
I was still walking when the sun began to set, cars were becoming fewer and fewer on the roads. And I was seeing less people walking around, until eventually it was just me wandering the dimly lit streets alone. One of the street lamps ahead of me was flickering, I remember that. Yes, I remember that vividly. That was my last memory before I was interrupted by a Black BMW that pulled up beside me.
The car window rolled down, and a fat man, wearing a suit, lined in crimson silk greeted me with a smile that revealed horribly yellowed teeth…
“Now what are you doing walking the streets alone at this hour? Where are your parents?” The fat man asked.
“I’m never going back there!” I replied.
The fat man’s grin widened even further…
“Ah, I see. Do you need a place to stay?” The fat man asked.
“I don’t even know you!” I replied, feeling nervous.
The fat man chuckled, before he replied…
“Do excuse me, where are my manners! My name is Vincent Drax.” He said, as he leaned out the car window. “And you are…?”
“Beth,” I replied timidly.
“That’s a lovely name. I love your shirt!” Vincent replied, as he eyed the Fright Night t shirt I was wearing.
The unease I felt at first was slowly beginning to fade away. Something about the way Vincent spoke suggested kindness, and good intentions.
“Thanks! I love monsters,” I replied.
“My dear, you speak to my own heart! Monsters are my passion!” Vincent replied, as he continued to smile. “Why don’t you hop in next to me, and we can go get a milkshake, and talk some more about monsters.”
The voice in my head was telling me it was a bad idea, but I moved closer to the car. Nothing appeared threatening about this man. He had a kind face, and caring bright green eyes, that glistened as they stared at my own almost unblinkingly, they glimmered with trust. He opened the passenger side door, and patted the leather seat.
“Ok,” I said, ignoring the logical part of my brain.
I got into the car, and closed the door. Inside smelled damp, with a strange hint of a mettalic odour. The engine made a clacking sound as Vincent started the ignition. And we were off, down straight roads and bendy streets that I did not recognise.
“So my dear Beth, do you believe in monsters?” Vincent asked, without moving his gaze from the road.
“No, of course not,” I replied, as I watched the passing scenery out the side window.
“What if I told you that I have a pet monster. Would you believe me?” Vincent said, smiling.
“No, I wouldn’t,” I replied.
“Do I look like a liar to you?” Vincent asked.
“Uh no, I guess not,” I replied.
Vincent brought the car to a stop…
“Here we are. Best milkshakes in London, and open twenty four seven. Now you wait here while I go get us both a milkshake,” Vincent said as he unclasped his seatbelt, and opened the door. “What flavour would you like?”
“Strawberry please,” I replied.
I watched through the front window as Vincent went into the Milkshake Bar. And after ten minutes, Vincent emerged out the doors, holding two large milkshakes in his hands.
“Here you go,” Vincent said, as he handed me the ice cold milkshake. “I got extra cream on top, just for you!”
“Thank you,” I said.
Nobody ever did nice things for me before. It was just a milkshake. But this simple act had brought a smile to my once glum face.
“Ok, now let’s have a game. First to get brain freeze loses!” Vincent said, as he readied the straw in his milkshake. “Ok on the count of three we both keep drinking until one of us gets a brain freeze ok?”
“I’m ready!” I said, eagerly, as the straw was touching my lips.
“Ok. Three…two…one, go!” Vincent said.
And we both began drinking.
I was halfway through mine before the brain freeze set in, and I tapped out as the loser. Vincent was now slurping loudly the last drops from his cup.
My head felt light and strange, and I began to feel very nauseous. And my vision was doubling. I looked over at Vincent, and he was just staring at me, with a wide grin, that in my disoriented state, widened into a unnatural sneer. The last thing I remember before everything faded to darkness was Vincent’s voice that now had a mocking tone…
“How’s that brain freeze?” Vincent’s faint echoing voice said. “Go to sleep now Beth. I’ll see you when you wake.”
Then I passed out!