Page 10 of Ghoul Kisses

Finishing up Murder House, I toss the book on the bed and stare at the ceiling. Since I’m going to be stuck here with Eric, I’ve decided to make my stay here easier on everyone; especially him. I shouldn’t have thrown tea in his face. I could have really hurt him. Those words echo again and again in my head, “are all humans this ungrateful?” It made me see it from his point of view. He didn’t have to save me from Pete, so the least I can do is help him find this so-called “magical book.” I still don’t believe in vampires, though, and I still think he is crazy, but I have a few doctors I can refer him to once this is all over. I’m glad he offered me the books from the library, because I don’t want to watch television all day. When Eric came in here to sit with me, I would watch him—waiting for him to rape me or introduce me to a man for sex. When he would snap at me, I figured he didn’t want to be stuck babysitting me. Before he left, I should have asked him about the psychological thriller section; that’s what I love to read. I tried to get into romance novels, but I couldn’t deal with reading about guys being overly possessive and controlling. I don’t understand how women think that’s attractive.

Eric barges in, his face etched with worry. His black shirt is covered in dried blood, and I instinctively rush to him. Oh God! I hope he’s not hurt.

“What happened?” I ask, trying to keep calm.

“My warrior has been shot in the heart and I need you to remove the bullet,” he gasps, clearly fighting for composure as he hurries me out the door.

I haven’t performed heart surgery since my clinical at UW Medical School, but I want to help, I owe him that much for saving my life. Eric escorts me to a room with out-of-date medical equipment. A man with pretty brown skin lies on a metal table, bleeding profusely from a nasty chest wound. I grip the hair bow from my wrist and tie my hair into a ponytail, ready to jump into action. My gaze darts around the room as I look for the necessary tools, but I don’t see any.

“Where are the surgical instruments?” I ask Eric.

“We don’t require any,” he answers.

“How will I remove the bullet if I don’t have the right tools?”

He hands me a kitchen knife. Is he insane? I could kill the poor guy. When I give him a doubtful look, he points impatiently to his injured friend and I see the worry in his eyes, which galvanizes me into action. With shaking hands, I cut into the center of the warrior’s flesh, and dark blood oozes out of his skin.

“I need a saw!” My eyes are playing tricks on me because Eric moves with impossible speed. A second later, he brings me an electrical saw. He plugs it into the socket and hands it to me. I hit the start button, the blade roars to life, hurting my ears. Opening the chest cavity, I cannot believe what I am seeing. The heart is twice as big as a human heart; instead of four chambers like a normal heart, it has eight. It beats at a slow and steady pace, seemingly unaffected by the hunk of metal in its fleshy midst. I don’t understand how it is still working if it has a bullet in it. He shouldn’t be breathing.

“Remove the bullet, he doesn’t have much time,” Eric says, snapping me out of my trance. I study every artery and quickly find it in the left ventricle. I cut into the heart and grasp the small bullet. It’s not like any bullet I have ever seen. Before I can close him up, he goes into arrest and his heart stops beating. Try as I might, I can’t get him back so I step away and drop my gaze to the floor, unable to tell Eric I failed to save his friend. Tears trickle down my cheeks; I always cry when I can’t save a patient. I set the bullet in the sink, and stitch up the small hole in the heart and his chest cavity. I turn on the faucet and dab soap on my hands trying to get rid of the blood. As I turn around, Eric leans against the wall with his arms crossed. My heart aches for him. I peer at the lifeless corpse.

“I’m sorry, but he di—” Before I can finish my sentence, the guy’s eyes pop open, and he sits up glancing around the room. He was born with heterochromia iridium - two different colored eyes. His right eye is red, and the other one is dark brown. He yanks the stitches from his chest. The chest cavity is closed, like I never performed surgery; like the bullet never entered his body at all. I rush to the corner with my hands over my mouth. I can’t speak. I blink my eyes rapidly as I gape at the guy. What the hell did I just witness? There is no way in hell he should be alive. I watched his heart stop beating, felt it go still under my hands; he should be dead. Numbness covers my body.

“Who is this lovely creature?” the guy asks in a smooth tone.

“You’re not normal,” My tone is low, incredulous and afraid.

“Okay?” he says, jumping off the table. Eric strides towards me and the closer he comes, the faster my heart beats through my chest. My blood roars in my ears.

“Are you okay?” Eric asks as he rubs my shoulder. I flinch. Am I okay? How could he ask me that after what I just witnessed? I have no idea how to respond to his ridiculous question. My mind swims with explanations, scrambling to make sense of what just happened and I can’t think straight.

“You are a vampire,” I state.

“No, we’re not,” the guy answers. Eric shoots him a cold stare.

“Then what are you?” I demand. I need to know. I have to know for the sake of my sanity.

“Get Sarah a cup of hot tea, Jack,” Eric murmurs. So his name is Jack. I was just elbow deep in Jack’s chest and now he’s scampering off to get me tea. Anxiety crawls at my throat, and I can barely breathe. Jack’s heart keeps popping up in my mind. I try to shake the memory out of my head.

“Eric, I know you are not human, so tell me what you are,” I say again, this time my voice is stern. He fixes his mouth like he is going to say something but doesn’t. The miraculously recovered Jack returns with a cup in his right hand.

“Here, drink this,” Jack says, giving me the cup. I couldn’t drink right now if my life depended on it, so I set it on the metal table.

“Thanks, for stitching me up,” he says gently, holding out his hand. Reluctantly, I shake it. I’m still in shock from what I just witnessed.

“My name is Jack,” He kisses my hand.

Eric pins the two of us with a look of frustration.

“Sarah, I’m going to walk you to your room,” Eric says to me before telling Jack, “I’ll meet you in the computer room.”

As I walk with Eric in the hallway, he is silent—lost in deep thought. I have a million questions for him. What is he? Is he from a different planet? What other beings are out there? Am I sexually attracted to his human form? Or is his real form ugly? Maybe his looks are an illusion. I never believed in the paranormal world, but seeing an eight-chamber-heart opens a person up to new possibilities.

We make it to my bedroom and stand in front of the door staring at each other for a minute too long. Without thinking, I rub my hand against his soft face, and he flinches. His skin is burning hot. Without comment, he exhales and opens my door.

“Just tell me what you are?” I demand as I enter the room. He leans against the arch of the doorway and stands with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“I will see you in the morning,” he says before disappearing out the room, not bothering to answer.

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