I didn't go inside my house when I got home. It didn't feel right to go inside. I was not expecting to feel like this after stabbing someone to death with a pencil - but then, they don't exactly have pamphlets for this in the counselor's office at school.
Sitting on the front step of my house, I tried to erase the image of Chrystal's shiny badge glinting in the darkness. I tried to block out the thought that the blood pooling on the floor was my doing. I even tried to forget her cool hand-movements as she worked the cash register.
Worst day ever.
Even sitting down next to the ridiculous jack-o-lantern my dad had carved for me before leaving on his business trip didn't make me feel better (which is a first because I have this thing for jack-o-lanterns).
I decided this was something I need to take to the police. Yes, I needed to turn myself in. I was a human being and I was not above the law. I would not stoop to the level of these vampires.
Cold sweat and nerves took over my thought process and I began envisioning myself alone in a prison cell and a vampire looking in through the bars. Didn't I need to be out there if I was going to hunt them down?
Not sure what to do, I started walking towards the bus stop. I'd go downtown. I'd tell them everything.
When people decide things in the heat of the moment - like, "If I walk away now, people will think the cat did it," or "Sure, I guess I'll go to prom with you..." - it usually turns out to be a huge mistake. Anything involving prom is a huge mistake.
It was past ten when I got to the station. I'd already ignored calls from my Mom and Chris (he probably just wanted to make sure I was practicing for the 'Big Night' concert - I wasn't. Obviously). No one in the station seemed happy to be there and certainly not to hear that I was turning myself in for murder.
They sent someone out to check the pharmacy and I found myself in an interrogation room with an older guy and a younger guy. Both wearing uniforms, both looked serious. One happened to be mildly attractive. Ignore.
The older guy sat down across from me and just stared. His beady eyeballs looked glazed over like a doughnut. The younger guy was pacing the back of the room. He seemed very excited to have been given this case.
"So you killed this woman?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Why come forward?"
"Because I feel bad."
"That's good to know. Can you tell me the name of the dead woman?"
"Chrystal. I'm sorry, I don't know her last name."
"And why did you kill her?"
I hesitated.
"Because she's a vampire."
The older detective raised an eyebrow rather sharply, but didn't shake his glazed expression.
"A...A vampire?" The young detective looked completely deflated. It's not fun working with someone you think is an idiot - I know. I have a whole group of them doing a history project with me.
Heaving a big sigh he asked, "You're sure?"
"Yes."
The older detective pulled himself out of the chair and motioned the younger one over. He whispered something to the younger man who promptly left and shut the door behind him.
"You seem like a good girl," said the older detective. "Have you been doing anything maybe you don't want to tell us?"
"...Like murder?" I asked.
"Like drugs."
"No."
"You think you've actually killed a vampire?" he asked, leaning forward. He had a name tag too, like Chrystal's only shinier. Arysmendi.
"I'm not crazy," I said slowly, though I knew that's how I sounded.
"I hate to tell you this," he said, matching my even-keeled pace, "but I think you might be."
He got up and left and I sat watching my reflection in the one-sided mirror. Was I crazy?
It was almost a half hour before the door opened again and the younger officer came in. He had my things...and my mom. She didn't look happy. I wondered how she'd look if she knew what I'd really been up to tonight.
"You're free to go," said the younger guy.
"But...I just confessed to a murder." I didn't want to say this in front of my mom. This was a lot worse than the time I had to tell her I backed Dad's car into our neighbor's porch...while they were still on it.
"We checked the pharmacy. No body. No sign of trouble. There was a large ink spill on the floor, but that was it," he said. Then added, "You should get some sleep."
My cue to leave. Mom's cue to grab me in a protective and we're-going-to-talk-about-this-later way that only mother's seem to know how to do.
She was quiet the whole ride home, except to tell me that it's a good thing Dad was out of town on business so she'd have time to cool off before telling him and to let me know part of my release terms included seeing the school counselor. Also, I was in big trouble.
Obviously.
We pulled into the parking lot and I asked if I could just sit on the step outside for a while. I promised I'd come in and I almost started to cry, saying I just need some air. She said, "Five minutes," and walked inside.
So here I was again. 2 a.m. Back on the front step of my house. Feeling like I can't go in. Next to this stupid jack-o-lantern.
"Hey."
I jumped and choked on my own spit, hoping it wasn't the jack-o-lantern talking to me before spotting vampire hottie.
"You can't sneak up on me, Gryffith!" I snapped. "How many times do I have to tell you?"
"It's hard not to," he said, walking into the light of the street lamp. "You have the sensory skills of like a blind mountain goat. Or you know, something that can't hear well."
Idiot. I was in no mood to banter words with this jock.
"What do you want?" I asked. "I'm all out of Emma facts for the night."
He sat down next to me. I kept forgetting what a massive person he is. Like seriously, enormous.
"I came because I thought you might have questions for me," he said.
What? Did he know? How could he have possibly found out? If he did know, why was he not upset that I had just killed a vampire? Assuming they all know each other (because Seattle is such a small place), they could have been friends.
"Don't think so," I said, trying to play off my surprise. "All good in the 'hood, bro."
Even the two hours in the city Police Department had not given me the street cred I needed to pull off that sentence with the casualness I was attempting.
He looked at me but his always-vacant expression made it difficult for me to decipher whether or not he believed my lie.
"Well, I think I owe you a fact," he said. "In order to become a vampire, you have to be bitten by one."
I looked at him condescendingly (it's one of my best facial expressions).
"Was that not a given?"
"Well," he stammered, "Some of these TV shows, you know. They get it wrong."
Like any normal human, I don't watch shows about vampires. They're stupid. Just like real vampires.
"I'm assuming there is a difference between being bitten and being eaten by a vampire?"
Now it was his turn to look condescending (an expression he was getting better at too - obviously he was spending too much time around me).
"I didn't think you were serious, you know," he said, standing up. "About killing vampires. But if you are, you may as well do it right. Like, messing up and stuff is just going to get messy."
This guy was as thick as they come - did he not know he was on my hit list?
"What makes you think I'm serious now?"
"Gailyn's girlfriend Alyssa told us you tried to kill Chrystal - the pharmacy chic."
"How does Alyssa know?"
"Chyrstal told her."
I stood up. "Dead Chrystal told Alyssa?"
"Well, shes not dead, Erin," Gryffith laughed stupidly. "How many times do I have to tell you? You have to be a vampire to kill a vampire."
Oh. Not dead.
Gryffith slumped into the darkness, his broad shoulders were the last to disappear. Somehow knowing that Chrystal was still alive and not murdered made me feel like I was allowed to go inside my house. I wasn't a killer, yet. Anyways, I was craving toast and peanut butter.
Chomping down on my midnight snack, beneath a watchful and still mostly furious gaze from my mother, it hit me.
Oh. I don't know why it hadn't clicked before. I had to become a vampire...
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