Page 14 of Map of Pain
Nick nodded, shifting to sit up straighter despite the protest from his stump.
Luka moved his chair closer, though still maintaining respectful distance. He wrote each word before demonstrating—HELLO, THANK YOU, YES, NO, WATER, FOOD. His movements were exaggerated, slowed down so Nick could clearly see the hand positions. For signs that required two hands, Luka demonstrated one-handed alternatives without Nick even bringing it up.
Nick’s first attempts were clumsy. His hand struggled to form the precise shapes, fingers refusing to separate properly when he attempted the alphabet for the fifteenth time. Frustration built behind his sternum. He taught himself to load a crossbow one handed after losing his dominant hand, but he couldn’t make a ‘W’ without his ring finger bending in the wrong place.
Luka didn’t rush him. Each time Nick’s coordination faltered, Luka demonstrated again, patient and encouraging. His signs were fluid, graceful—like watching water flow rather than words being formed. Nothing like the crude gestures Nick had used during Society operations.
After an hour of the basics, Nick’s mind turned practical.“What about... defensive words?”
Luka raised an eyebrow, writing:‘Defensive like what?’
“Like ‘fuck off’ or ’go away.’”
A grin spread across Luka’s face as he set down his pen. His hands formed quick, aggressive movements that looked satisfyingly hostile. He demonstrated“FUCK OFF”with particular enthusiasm.
Nick practiced repeatedly, finding unexpected comfort in the angry precision. Each curse word felt like something that belonged to him. Something that couldn’t be taken away.
Growing bolder, Nick asked,“What’s the funniest sign you know?”
Luka considered, head tilted, before writing:‘Funny how? Strange or amusing?’
“Either. Both.”
Luka’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he set down his pen. He demonstrated a simple gesture that involved pulling something up and out of his abdomen, then tossing it to the side. His face remained completely serious during the demonstration.
“What’s that mean?”
Luka wrote: ‘Abortion.’
The absurdity of the movement combined with Luka’s deadpan expression hit Nick unexpectedly. Something bubbled up from deep in his chest—unfamiliar, almost forgotten. Laughter.
Luka’s own laughter followed, breathy and quiet, like wind through autumn leaves. The sound transformed his entire face,reaching his eyes and softening every feature. It was musical, almost ethereal and absolutely nothing like the cruel laughter Nick associated with monsters.
Luka clapped his hands together in delight, giving an enthusiastic thumbs up.
Nick’s laughter died as realization hit. He’d never heard a vampire laugh at something innocent before. All vampire laughter in his experience had been a celebration of human suffering. This was... different. Human. Genuine joy in a shared moment.
Monsters don’t laugh like that. But he is a monster. Isn’t he?
Luka wrote:‘You have natural rhythm with signing. Good student.’
Nick surprised himself when he simply replied,“Good teacher.”
***
Sleep became his enemy over the following days. He fought against it, jerking awake whenever his eyelids grew heavy. Sleep meant vulnerability. Vulnerability meant pain. The exhaustion compounded everything else, making his gaps in time more frequent.
After those episodes, Nick gradually noticed patterns. The medical equipment showed steady monitoring but no manipulation or evidence of interference during his absent periods. Luka’s position never changed inappropriately, but his face would light up the moment their eyes met. Concern melted into unmistakable relief, warmth spreading across his features. The smile that bloomed reached his eyes, crinkling the corners. He always gave an enthusiastic thumbs up. Sometimes he wiggled his fingers in a playful wave, childlike and utterly non-threatening.
The hunter in his head grew quieter with each return. The broken, submissive thing remained but was quieter. Something else emerged—exhausted but curious about this strange vampire who maintained his vigil without demands.
Maybe... maybe not all monsters are the same?
Notes always waited for him after he lost time. ‘You were safe. I stayed with you. Welcome back.’Luka never demanded explanations or pushed for details about where Nick“went”.He just offered water, adjusted pillows, and provided basic comfort in silence.
The phantom pain in his missing hand often proved worse than the infection had been. He’d brace himself for the inevitable slide away from consciousness as Luka would move his chair marginally closer, giving him a little nod that felt more like understanding than permission. The routine had become oddly comforting despite Nick’s resistance to admitting it.
During one particularly intense phantom pain episode, Luka’s pen scratched against paper sharp, catching Nick’s attention as he held up a note:‘You are suffering. Medicine available.’
