A rough week

WARNING: Contains some strong language (Oh my!)

So I’ve had quite the week.  I cannot remember the last time so much stuff happened almost at once. Now, where to begin. Well, it started pretty promising. Last Friday I decided I’d had it with drowning in student loans and went looking for a job. Then, on Tuesday, I went to an interview and I got the job. Oh yeah, but then I came home and found Emma had packed her things.

“Emm? What’s all this?” I asked her in a quiet tone. I had this huge, awkward smile on my face, as I had just opened the door, bursting with pride, eager to tell my lovely girlfriend about my job interview. She was sitting at the bar stool, holding the silver keys to our apartment in her right hand, playing with her beautiful brown, loosely-curled hair with the other. She had braided them into a couple of stray plaits. God, I’m going to miss that hair.

“I’m sorry, Trip,” she said as she stood up. Her voice was faint, as if this was all a huge embarrassment to her. “But I think you and I both know things have been slowly falling apart between us for some time now.”

“What?! NO! No, no, no, wait,” I uttered as I approached her, trying to grab her hands to prevent her from taking those suitcases and leaving. “Wait! I got the job! I’m not deadbeat anymore! And I’m finally making progress on my research project. C’mon, Emm! We can work this out. Let’s at least talk this over, alright?”

“We already have, many times,” she said as she flung off my hands off of her wrists and grabbed her bags. “I just… I don’t need this anymore. And neither do you. We both deserve better than this. So please, just stop. Don’t make this any harder for yourself.”

With those words she stormed off. I would not let go just like that. I followed her down the spiral staircase of our apartment building.

“Emm!” I shouted. I could hear someone open their door upstairs and approach the railing to gawk. “You can’t just leave. For God’s sake, we have a life together!”

“If you paid any attention to what I said, you’d know that’s not the case. I’ll be back for the rest of my things some other time.” And with that, she shut the door to the building.

“Oh yeah?! Well fuck you, too!”

Needless to say, I was a bit on edge after that. But I digress. Nobody wants to hear this, all this personal drama. The week had only just begun! On Wednesday I went to my new job. I forgot to trim my beard and my right hand was all covered in bloodied bandages and possibly some leftover pieces of mirror, so I can’t say I performed that well. I did see a note, though. Someone was looking for a room to rent. Considering I now had twice as much rent to pay, I gave the guy a call.

I saw him Thursday after work. His name was Kurt, though I could not for the life of me decipher his last name from that impressionist handwriting. He couldn’t have been much older than me, and yet there was something surprisingly dignified about him. Not in the way he dressed, though. His long, raven hair was tied in a loose pony tail and nicely complimented with a goatee. He was wearing an acid green baseball cap, coupled with sunglasses he refused to take off. He was as pale as a corpse. That was all coupled with a simple black t-shirt and denim slacks. Not exactly dignified, and yet he somehow felt the part. He moved in right away. It was all kinda suspicious, though. He had next to no things and would sleep through the whole day. He told me he worked as a DJ, so he would need the rest. I would have thought he was a vampire.

And then came Friday and boy, what a day it was! On my way to work I saw Emma, complete with a brand new short, blonde hairdo, red lipstick and a whole entourage of beautiful, blonde-haired people. I know she noticed me, she was looking at me right when I threw a gaze in her direction. Then she whispered something into some muscle-bound, blonde Apollo’s ear. Fuck that bitch. Too bad that made me angry. I lost my job that day. I don’t want to go into detail, but the case was pretty ugly. Let’s just say I need more money now than I did before that. That evening, when I finally returned home after all the proceedings, Kurt asked me if I wanted to go with him to the club he works at. I said yes. I don’t really know why. I think I just needed to get my mind off all of the crap that happened last week.

The music was great, the girls dancing at the club were hot, the booze was incredible, but it was all so joyless. I just couldn’t stop thinking about her. I stepped out of the club. It was raining, just my luck. I tried to call her, but to no avail. I tried for another fifteen minutes. My hair stuck to my face. I finally got fed up with waiting and hurled the phone to the ground. It bounced off the sidewalk and landed somewhere in a nearby alley. I instantly regretted doing that.

I hurried over there to search for my phone, but was suddenly sucker-punched in the face and fell down on the wet pavement. I got up and noticed none other than the blonde pretty-boy from before holding me by the throat in midair. He gave me a twisted smile, exposing prominent fangs. Holy fuck, I thought to myself, as I desperately fought for my breath. He then threw me against a wall in the alley. I could breathe again, but my back and head were aching really hard. He was crouching right above me as his fingernails extended into extremely long talons. I saw him take a swing at me. I was sure I was done for. But then I heard a loud thump, and two voices growling at each other. It all sounded pretty feral, kinda like cats fighting for territory, only much more terrifying. I took a look at what was going on. Someone was wrestling with blondie-boy. Although “wrestling” might be a bit of a stretch. The Adonis was trying to get up, as the other person had him pinned down. The blonde guy tried to grab him by the throat – his signature move, I assume – but as he did that, the other man cut it clean off with talons similar to the blonde guy’s. Blood gushed out of the open wound and the man started screaming. I saw the severed hand writhe in a pool of splattered blood. Then it stood up on its fingers and lunged itself at the attacker. He easily dodged it, though, and the hand crashed into the wall, falling down limp like a dead fish. The men were speaking to each other in some language I couldn’t understand, though my college education tells me it might have been Hebrew. The conversation soon ended, however. As the blonde man squirmed, his attacker performed a finishing blow, piercing his victim’s heart. The victim suddenly became still. The winner took out the talons out of the body, and licked them clean of the blood. He later turned his face toward me. His eyes were glowing red, there was a trail of blood trickling from his lips, and yet I instantly recognized that long, black hair and goatee, that pasty white skin.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, Trip,” said Kurt in that deep voice of his.

“Yeah,” I whispered. What did I tell you? My week was fucking fantastic.