My View From the Window ~ Chapter Fifteen

I exhaled an involuntary sneeze, clinching the warm blanket draped atop my shoulders tighter about me,

and sniffed. The moon cast an eerie white blanket of faded light and drifting shadows across the floor before me,

where I sat on the carpet with my back against the couch. I vaguely recalled the grandfather tolling quietly from

the hallway behind me, but that seemed long ago and I had forgotten to count the number of chimes. I guessed that

it was now close to one or two in the morning by the faint smears of bleached pastels gradually coming into focus

through the window. Vincent and I had managed to trek our way through the darkness back to his apartment

hours ago, or at least it felt like it, and about halfway through the journey Vincent began to act strangely, spouting

out muted gibberish with his head directed downwards, and my only explanations were that he was developing a

fever or was becoming lightheaded with his lack of blood and forced myself to proceed faster. By the time I had

gotten him back to his apartment his eyes had become unfocused and bloodshot, and I had only gotten enough time

to drag him up the staircases and hoist him into bed before he had consented to the fatigue in his mind and fallen

into unconsciousness. That too seemed long ago, and for the past several hours - minutes, seconds, whatever it was

- I had sat alone on the floor with a blanket around me in an attempt to conquer the cold I seemed to be catching.

I sneezed a second time, shielding my mouth with the quilt around me, then sniffed again and collapsed

warily against the foot of the couch behind me. “.....I can’t get sick now....” I choked weakly, but I could hear how

muffled my voice had become through the suffocating bondage of congestion. “...Vincent needs me....He put his

life on the line even when he was weak to save me, and now he’s sick.....I have to take care of him...” I was cut off

by another sneeze, then emitted a weary moan and shut my eyes. “.......he’s sick......” I droned on quietly, my voice

gradually drifting off into silence. “................he’s sick because of me.......all because of me....”

Soon the surrounding room had become still once again, and I think I had managed to waft carelessly off

into a unsettled sleep, my head resting gingerly against my shoulder and my blanket drawn up protectively about

me. The waning moon outside cast a milky shadow across my face.

A shattering noise erupted from the kitchen.

Immediately I leapt upright with a frightened inhalation of breath, clasping my blanket tighter around me

and whipping my eyes open once more. My sudden awakening had not given my eyes or mind sufficient time to

focus themselves, and I was stuck helplessly in place on the floor for several moments as my body rebooted itself

and I remembered where I was once again. I surveyed the dark room around me with quick, panicked jerks of my

head, then slowly shifted my way up to my feet and pulled the blanket over my shoulders. The shadows of

furniture and other objects in the murkiness encircling me loomed ominously on all sides but were still, and after

several rotations in place I had almost managed to convince myself I had dreamed the noise when a muffled

shuffling noise came from the kitchen a second time.

I simply stared at the doorway for probably close to thirty seconds or so, then forced myself to swallow and

sluggishly move my body forward, the fringe of the comforter dragging noiselessly across the carpet behind me.

The sound in the kitchen continued, growing louder as I continued to approach it, and now that I stood only a

meter or two from the postern I could vaguely perceive the form of an eerie shadow of a man projected across the

cabinets before me from the faint light streaming through the window on the opposite wall. I hesitated for a

moment, and although I found myself unarmed I couldn’t tear my body away from the hatchway. I slowly inhaled

a shuttering breath, placed one hand against the doorway, and gradually managed to peer into the kitchen.

Vincent’s body stood with its back to me against the far wall and before the small window, hunched over

the counter. A broken plate sat at his feet, surrounded by triangular shards of glass, obviously clumsily knocked

aside unintentionally. I slowly and silently exhaled the breath I had been holding, but the expected wave of relief

that usually spread through my veins didn’t come. Some sort of caution and fear prevented me from saying his

name or approaching his side, and it took all my will to finally leave the protection of the doorway and slide

defenselessly into the middle of the kitchen. He still hadn’t noticed my presence.

I noticed it now - some sort of rancid stench had filled the air, and I wrinkled my nose and bent slowly to

the side in an effort to catch a glimpse of what he was doing. I still couldn’t see around his body positioned against

the far counter, but occasionally he would emit some sort of unexplainable noise and tear at something in his

hands. I took a silent step forward to attempt to get a closer look, but I immediately stopped and shot a glance

downward as I felt something cold and wet beneath my left foot. A red liquid was now streaming across the tile

before me in snakelike traces, and as I gradually moved my vision upwards I could see it was originating from the

counter hidden behind Vincent’s body.

My intuition still set up a defensive blockade in my throat, but I forced my voice through it and managed

to make it audible. “........................V..........Vincent.....?...”

His body before me froze suddenly at the sound of my presence behind him, then sluggishly turned his

head about to gaze back at me over his shoulder. His eyes were dark and unfocused, and his wooden gaze sent a

frightened impact into the depths of my stomach. His skin seemed pale but slightly flushed beneath the streaks of

black hair draped loosely over his face, and around his mouth there were conspicuous smears of dark scarlet,

similar to the color of the fluid beneath my feet. He stared expressionlessly over at my immobile form cemented in

the middle of the kitchen floor and did not say a word.

I forced a nervous smile, causing the edges of my mouth to burn from suppressed fear. “.....What....what

are you doing up......?” I asked him apprehensively, pulling the blanket tighter over my shoulders and taking a

couple shaky steps forward while attempting to avoid the smudges of crimson across the tile. “...You were so sick

before......you should be asleep now, Vincent, you need rest to feel better........Whatever in the world are you doing,

anyway....?” I now reached his side, noticing precariously that his eyes had never left my form, then as

inconspicuously as possible attempted to flick an unobtrusive glance down at the countertop before him. A

frightened shock immediately spread through my innards, and although I endeavored to keep my appearance

unaffected as to not let him know what I had seen, my hands clenched into inadvertent fists against the blanket

about me.

The countertop had been bedaubed with large streaks and sprays of crimson as well, and amidst the

sanguine marble there was a large mass of raw meat, more than likely pulled directly from the freezer judging by

the small crystals of ice and frost still struggling to cling to the sides. The pungent smell was much stronger here,

so much so that my vision blurred with tears, and with an inaudible gasp I noticed Vincent’s hands, also plastered

with scarlet, both dug deeply into the depths of the meat before him.

Had he been eating it?? He was eating raw meat??

I forced myself to swallow once more, then cast a glance up at his face. “.....Let’s go back to bed, ok,

Vincent...?” I suggested quietly, slowly slipping my arm through his and gradually pulling him away from the

countertop. His eyes still hadn’t left my face. “...You’re obviously not feeling too well, so let’s just go back to

sleep, all right? I’m sure you’ll feel much better tomorrow...” I slowly lead him out of the kitchen, his bare feet

leaving a trail of smeared red footprints on the floor behind us, then guided over in the direction of the bathroom.

“..............Here, why don’t you go get yourself washed up and I’ll go fix up your bed, ok? Then we can both get

back to sleep and feel better in the morning...”

“.................I won’t let you...........” he replied distantly, his voice raspy and eerily quiet.

I started noticeably, mostly because I hadn’t expected an answer, then forced myself to regain composure.

“..........No, it’s ok, Vincent, I don’t mind. You look kind of feverish, so it would be better if I got you some fresh

sheets. Just go into the bathroom and wash your face off a bit, and then come to your room and go to bed. It’ll be

ok, Vincent, you just need a little sleep after yesterday.”

“.....I won’t let you do it......” he answered again, his eyes now detachedly drifting off to the room around

us. “......You can’t do it.......I won’t let you........”

“............Here, Vincent....” I directed him into the bathroom, positioned him in front of the sink and

twisted on the water. “......Wash your face a little. I think you’ll feel better.”

I exited the bathroom and made my way back down the hallway, towards his bedchamber. The door had

been left slightly ajar, but I had to push it open fully to actually enter the dark room. Immediately I covered my

mouth with a slight gag, turning my head aside, then opened my eyes a crack and glanced over towards his bed

once more. The sheets were streaked with caliginous patches of vomit, and I immediately became all to aware of

the decaying stench that filled the room. “......Well, I’m sure that meat made his stomach feel better....” I

whispered cynically to myself, slowly approaching his bed and ripping off the comforter and top sheet. “....Jesus

Christ, there must be something really wrong....” I soon forgotten my disgusted sarcasm and began to focus on

Vincent’s health, now becoming noticeably worried as I walked up toward the head of his mattress. “...What if

he’s really sick??....Should I call a doctor?? No, no, stupid Allie....What kind of office would be open at one o’

clock in the morning??......Well, maybe I should call someone.....think, Allie, think.....”

It was then I found the gun under his pillow.

At first I wasn’t sure of what it was and only drew back with a startled gasp at the feeling of a cold,

metallic object. But then, after some hesitation, I reached shakily forward once again and lifted the side of his

headrest, revealing the dark form of a revolver against the pale sheets. I stared vacantly down at it for several

moments, then reached forward with quivering fingers and lifted it to my face. Had this always been there?? It

wasn’t too often that I found myself in Vincent’s room........Maybe he always slept with a gun under his pillow?? I

couldn’t be sure, but something about the coldness of the weapon in my hand made my stomach lurch.

In a split second decision I pulled open the back, revealing only three bullets loaded into the cylinder. My

panicked mind ordered me to remove the ammunition or hide the gun, but common sense warned that Vincent

would notice and maybe turn angry. I emitted a gasp as I heard the faucet in the bathroom being switched off, and

immediately my eyes fell back to the firearm in my hands. My eyes darted back and forth between the door behind

me and the gun I held, and in a sudden, last-minute conclusion I spun the cylinder so that three empty

compartments would be fired first before the bullets, then threw it back onto the mattress and covered it with the

pillow.

A moment later Vincent staggered into the room.

I spun back towards him speedily, almost unnaturally, and clasped my hands casually behind my back and

felt my blanket slip off my shoulders. His eyes crept expressionlessly up towards my face, like two dark rubies

gleaming out from beneath his raven bangs, and I forced an irregular smile. “.....S....See, I bet you feel much

better now, right??” I commented nervously, choking out a quivering laugh. “....Well, I cleaned up your bed a bit,

so you can go back to sleep now, all right?? Get some rest so you’ll be better tomorrow. G’night, Vincent!” I

instantly rushed forward, slipping by him and dashing back out into the hallway. Although I had managed to pull

the door shut behind me, I could still feel his following eyes boring deeply into my back.

I exhaled a weary breath, leaning weakly back against the wall leading into the kitchen, and pushed back

my hair. I rested in that position for several moments, then slowly cast a glance into the soiled room beside me. I

emitted a sigh. “.......I should clean this up.....” I remarked aloud to myself. “....It’s the least I can do for

him....besides, I doubt he’ll feel like doing it tomorrow....”

It took close to twenty minutes to finally finish cleaning the room, since the blood stains on the tile were

now almost completely dry and crusted to the floor and it took extra effort on my part to get down on my hands and

knees and scrub furiously at them. I was at a loss of what to do with the remaining meat - I thought about maybe

putting it back in his freezer, then cringed at the sight of it, scooped it up in a bunch of paper towels, and dropped

it heavily into the garbage beneath the sink. After that, I must have washed my hands close to fifteen times before

I finally turned to leave the kitchen.

He was waiting for me.

As soon as I entered the living room once again, I jolted backwards with a gasp at the sight of his leaning

weakly against the doorway leading into the corridor across from me. He was almost entirely shrouded in shadow,

with the exception of only one scarlet eye visible from beneath his hair, glaring over at me from across the room.

He was slumped crookedly against the hatchway - for how long, I don’t know - staring expressionlessly over at my

startled form exiting the kitchen and now clinging shakily to my shirt. A number of seconds filled with a shocked

silence crept through the air, and then I finally drew myself back against the wall. “...........V.....Vincent.....I....I

said to get some rest.....You’ll never get better if....you keep.....”

I started noticeably as he slowly raised his arm, revealing the glittering black form of the revolver

clenched in his hands, and gradually came to a halt as the muzzle’s aim fell to my chest. “..............I won’t let

you........” he repeated drowsily, his eyes remaining locked impartially on my shaking form. “........It’s crazy........I

won’t allow it........I’ll stop you.....one way or the other......”

“.......V......Vincent - ” I stopped as suddenly I heard a loud click sound out from his gun. He had pulled

the trigger, releasing one of the empty compartments and shifting to the next one. “.....Vincent...!!” I cried

tearfully, clasping both hands before my chest. “.....Vincent, what are you doing......”

Click.

He pulled the trigger a second time, liberating only another sharp snapping noise. His eyes never left my

form. “.............You can’t do this....” he told me softly, gazing darkly over at me past the gun lifted before him.

“......I’m sorry.....You can’t get away with it....”

“......Vincent, please - !!” I sobbed, pressing myself back against the wall.

Click.

The final empty compartment released its contents with a loud rush of air. Vincent cocked it once more

without removing his eyes from my shaking figure against the far wall. “......I didn’t want to do this....” he

whispered raspily, releasing a single tear down his left cheek. “.....Why did you do this to me......I only loved

you.....”

“....Vincent!!” I screamed in desperation.

The gun went off with a deafening crack, causing the wall next to me to explode in an eruption of

wallpaper and sparks. I was immediately flung to the floor with a terrified shriek, landing heavily on my stomach

and tossing my arms protectively over my head. Vincent was no longer in view due to the couch before me.

“....Vincent!!!” I screeched despondently, feeling icy tears streaking down my face. “....Vincent, what are you

doing??!! Please wake up, Vincent, please - !!”

I let out another scream and buried my face into the carpet as the lamp situated on the table beside me

exploded in the ember of another bullet, thrusting the light to the floor in a shower of broken glass and electricity.

I pulled myself up into a kneeling position and threw my back up against the posterior of the couch. “...Vincent,

it’s me!!” I shouted frantically to his form stationed on the other side of the room. “What’s the matter with you,

what are you doing??!! Vincent, you can’t do this - !!!”

I covered my ears as his next bullet pierced through the couch next to me, only inches away, spraying

feathers into the air and ultimately burying itself into the wall I now faced. “.....Why do you make this difficult....”

came his voice, muffled by the distance between us and my hammering heart in my ears. “....Don’t do this to me, I

love you......But I can’t let you get away with this.....”

“......Vincent......Vincent, please....” My sobbing breaths were now panting horribly, and I buried my

tearing face into my knees and clenched my hands into fists. “.....No, Vincent.....please....”

Spontaneously I was grabbed roughly by the hair by a hand overhead, and with a terrified scream I shot a

glance upwards and caught a glimpse of Vincent leaning over the couch and seizing me. “No!!!!! No!!!!!” I

shrieked furiously, clawing up through my hair in a desperate attempt to escape, but with a simple, violent toss of

his hand I was sent sprawling painfully away from the couch onto the carpet. Immediately he strutted over towards

me, flipping me easily onto my back and pinning me effectively to the ground by holding my wrists. “Let go of

me!!!!!” I screeched desperately, splattering tears into the air. “No, Vincent, let me go - !!!!!”

“....I can’t let you kill them....” he told me calmly, slowly reaching upwards and placing his hand about

my throat. “.....I know what they did, but that doesn’t justify it......They might have taken him from you, but you

can’t just kill them, Lucrecia.....”

.......L.......Lucrecia....?!?! my mind thought frantically, causing my eyes to snap open and gape vacantly

up at his indifferent face above me. ...Is....is that what.....?!! “....Vincent, no!!!” I cried desperately. “Vincent, it’s

me!! It’s Allie!!! Vincent, I’m not Lucrecia!! You’re dreaming, Vincent!! Wake up, please - “ I was silenced as

suddenly his grip about my neck spontaneously tightened, drowning out my voice and causing me to choke.

....N....no, Vincent...!!! I thought helplessly, squeezing my eyes shut. You....you can’t do this...!!!

“....I’m sorry....” I heard him say above me, and I could sense what felt like tears falling lightly onto my

face. “....I....I didn’t want to do this, but you leave me no choice.....I love you, Lucrecia, I really do love you...!!”

“...............No!!!!!!!!!” I let out one final shriek of desperation, and suddenly my pumping adreneline

caused me to lash out furiously , shoving him violently off me and sending him sprawling onto his back. It took

me a moment or two to regain myself, then immediately leapt to my feet and dashed back towards the kitchen. I

could sense him behind me, climbing back onto balance and chasing ruthlessly after me.

I stumbled clumsily into the kitchen, immediately racing over to the wall where I could perceive the

sparkling forms over many knives hanging neatly from a rack bolted to the rampart. With heaving breaths I

struggled to tear one from its hook, then immediately whirled about as Vincent entered the doorway.

“....Lucrecia...” he said distantly, taking a step forward towards me. “....Why do you run...? You know why I do

this....”

“......S....Stay back....” I warned, lifting the knife before me. “......Stay away from me....”

“....Lucrecia, please....” Vincent reached a hand out towards me. “Let me help you, please...”

“I’m not Lucrecia, damn you!!!” I snapped apprehensively, clutching the hilt of the knife in a sweaty fist.

“....Don’t....don’t you come anywhere near me, or I’ll - ”

I was cut off by a frightened scream as Vincent took my nervousness to lunge toward me in a sudden

ambush attack, and I whipped my head aside and squeezed my eyes shut as I felt him approach me....

......and abruptly halt.

I hesitated for a moment, breaths heaving and tears dripping pathetically down my cheeks, then slowly

opened my eyes a crack and turn back towards him. I drew in a terrified gasp as his face came into view, only an

inch or two before mine, frozen in a horribly twisted expression of shock and agony. I stared up at him for several

seconds, then slowly drifted downwards, where now I could see blood flowing out over my hands clutching the

knife. I must have unintentionally thrust it out protectively before me as soon as he had leapt for me, because now

I could see that it was embedded deeply in the flesh of his stomach. He had leapt into the knife.

With another gasp I inadvertently jerked backwards, tearing the knife from his gut, and with sickening

hesitation I watched him sway weakly atop his feet and collapse heavily onto his back. Blood streamed freely out

across the tile.

There was a loud clattering noise as the knife fell from my quivering hands, and as I gaped vacantly down

at his motionless body on the floor I gradually lifted my bloody palms to my face to stifle a sob. The tears came

again, more viciously this time, and I found myself collapsing weakly down onto my knees as I wailed, shielding

my face with my hands.

The clock in the hallway chimed twice.

~End of Chapter Fifteen~

*Author's note ~ Omg, can this chapter get any weirder??? How do I think this crap up?? (Now that I think about it, that whole thing with the meat seems kinda unnecessary, doesn't it?? O well...) Tell me what you think, guys!! Anyway, til lata~!*

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