Note: Hey!! This one's sorta a continuation of my other story. It's not that
surprising and is a lot like my other story but I'm still fairly happy w/it.
It's also kind of twisted.. enjoy!
Interview With a Vamp
By Madonna Tweety
"The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt my son." The words came out so
practiced, with such a clipped precision, Marilyn nearly lost the facade.
Silently damning herself, she hastily started a new round of waterworks,
twisting her heavily lacquered mouth into a look of pure anguish. The man
nodded sympathetically, offering her a tissue.
"I understand, we don't have to talk about your son. Just, tell me about
yourself. Let me record your story."
Marilyn sighed, beginning to slowly massage her temples. She wondered what
the fuck she was doing by coming up into this apartment with this odd
stranger. *Not that it's that unfamiliar* she thought, a slight smile
parting her lips. She'd been haunting her favorite alley, the one she'd come
to think of as "Desperation Alley". The man had approached her warily,
leather briefcase under arm. He'd then asked her to share her story with
him. Marilyn had simply laughed, a harsh cawing sound. *Whatever you want
to call it* The darkness has been so thick, she hadn't even seen his face.
*Could be a fucking leper- but money's money. I've got to eat too*
She'd been completely surprised upon finding out that that was all he did
want. And now, sitting in some rundown apartment, a solitary candle casting
nightmarish shadows across her face, Marilyn was slowly breaking down. The
carefully constructed bridge between broken past and desolate future, was
threatening to rupture.
The interviewer fumbled with the tape recorder, finally, with a triumphant
grunt, giving her the thumbs up.
"I-I was born in Weed, Mississippi, daughter of a ranch farmer." The liquid
dark of Marilyn's eyes glistened, moistening in remberance.
"I remember on my seventh birthday, I got this little kitten, named him
Bubba." She smiled, squeezing her eyes shut. "My brothers, they was about 10
and 12, they;d thought it would be funny if Bubba went for a swim." Tears ran
down her face "So, they put him in a sack, and threw him in our little duck
pond."
"Jesus H. Christ, th-..."
Marilyn bit her lip and plunged onward, cutting him off. "I'll never forget
that night. I tried to explain to Poppa it wasn't me. But I'm the one who
got the whuppin'. Got that same whuppin' so many times after that. It was
then, I knew had to leave. I admired people like James Dean, people who
didn't take no shit from nobody."
Marilyn studied the interviewer for a moment, then went on.
"My liberation came almost ten years later. Han'some young thang named Bud
Dean, of all things. We spent a night t'gether. I-I said I was on birth
control."
"But you weren't"
Marilyn's face crumpled, "Goddammit! You don't understand what things were
like for me, watching my Daddy beat my Mamma. Then having my turn."
"Was he angry?" The interviewer's brow furrowed.
"Yes, but he took the responsibility. J.D. was born a little while after. I
loved him so much, but there were some things even I tried couldn't deny "
"Like what?" The interviewer lit two butts, offering one to Marilyn, who took
it between fingers.
Marilyn inhaled sharply, allowing the smoke to curl out of her nostrils. "Ah,
just little things at first. Even as a toddler he was destructive. Always
seemed to get a thrill outa killing things."
"Like your brothers?"
She nodded sadly ," Yea, 'spose so. It was then, that I also learned Bud was
alot like my father. I had nightmares about J.D. becoming just like them.
'Tried so hard to make sure that wouldn't happen, yet it was inevitable. We
had an argument when he was thirteen. He hit me. After that, I just
couldn't take it."
"What did you do?"
"I-I tried to kill myself. Blow myself up. I went into this library Bud was
scheduled to destruct, waved slowly at my son. Then... boom."
Hot bile curdled in her throat.
"The window was located by one of the inner doorways of the library. I
should have been killed, but somehow I crawled out of the wreckage, checked
into a hospital, then disappeared.
I never meant to hurt him."
It was almost sunrise now, and light was bombarding the room.
She turned toward the interviewer now, eyes downcast.
"I think I see him sometimes."
She looked up slowly, horror crumpling her reddened features.
"Oh dear God."
In one fluent motion, he looked behind him.
"What is it?"
Marilyn ran out of the apartment, nearly falling down the rickety stair case.
Back in the apartment, Daniel Malloy shrugged and rewinded his tapes.