There is No Introvert Like a Vampire

“Are you coming tonight?” Henry stood at her home’s threshold, dusk bleeding over the sky behind. He leaned against the door frame. 

The evening drew a silent breeze. She stood, turned away from him with a hood over her head, as if in a thrall. A chair sat beside her desk, indented from months of sitting. The computer screen and keyboard were cloaked in dust. Shades covered each window—all except for one. She had been staring out it for hours, watching her reflection wane with the dawn. 

He put his hands in his pocket as the wind howled. She remained still, eyes locked on the falling sun. 

“You haven’t been around...really.” His voice trails. “Are you okay?”

She flinched before at last facing him, gaze empty and harrowed.

“You, um... look more pale than you usually do.”

An odd blink broke her trance as she flinched again. Her eyes looked back to the sunlight.

“Norelle?”

“No,” she returned. Norelle sat down in the dented chair, stridulous under stress. “I can’t.”

He finally entered the home with a tentative step. Dust from the floor was roused in his wake. “It’s been weeks.”

She curled up as he approached, burying her face in the jacket. It felt frigid in the wind. The door was still open.

“Why aren’t you out? You’re reclusive, but not this bad.” Henry knelt beside her.

Norelle pulled down her hood, hideous red blemishing her neck. 

Henry stood suddenly. “How did—?!” he spat, eyes as wide as hers.

“I went outside earlier. In the sun,” she said. “It hurt.”

The wind stilled as he knelt once more, eyes not leaving the scorch. The sun was nearly gone from the horizon.

“There was a sickening sizzle.” She choked on a breath. “It reeked of smothering flame on flesh and I ran back and I just….sat.”

“Why did it… How?” He tried to stay his shuddering.

The hood shrouded her face again. “I was bitten. Last night.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” he says, bewildered in tone.

“Just look.” Clawing at the hem of the jacket, she revealed two grievous perforations at her neck. The veins were blackened around the wound, tarnished and malefic.

Norelle ran a quaking hand over the bite before shriveling deeper into her raiments. Each sat in silence for a moment, the sun at last gone.

“I don’t know what to do,” she wavered. “I don’t know what I can do or when I will do it, but I never want to find out.”

“You weren’t answering your phone. I guess this is why.” 

Norelle stared at the ceiling. The sun no longer brightened it. It was quiet and cold.

“Your mother had asked me to fetch you.” Henry chimed, scratching his head. “She’s worried about you.” More moments passed as he waited for nothing. “Cathy’s wedding is soon…  You were sent an invite. She would really want you there.”

“I can’t.”

“But you need to do something.” Henry’s tone seized a harshness she had not heard from him. “You can’t just languish here! You can still see the sun and stars. There are people around you that care, but you’re just forcing yourself out of their lives.”

Norelle froze, words lapsing. “I can’t”

“You’re a recluse—not an idiot. Now get up.”

“It’s just not...the same.” She absently tapped her finger. “I was alone, but the chance to leave could always be taken. I could see a friend, go on a hike, or watch the sky, but...that’s gone.” She stared at the window, only Henry’s reflection in the glass. “I can’t.”

Her friend turned to the window. “The sun may be gone, but you’re not.”

She sat up. “You don’t understand.” 

“What is there to not understand?” he basted. “You’re perfectly capable of walking, you”

The floor shook as she stood, lights flickering, eyes blazing. “I can’t go in the sun!”

“So?”

“I can never see it again. Never.” Norelle took a tempering breath. “I have an urge to feed. I can’t go near people. I am reclusive. I—I have to be. I can no longer escape that.” Her eyes closed. “I can never be what I thought I would eventually achieve,” she seethes. “I am this.”

Henry put a cautious hand on her shoulder. “Why have you consigned yourself? These... dark resignations aren’t you.”

“But it has to be.” She bat away his attempt to calm her. “It is now.” 

The floor whinged as he stepped back, belittled by her glare. 

Norelle took another breath. “Leave.”

He made to speak, but the words were lost past his lips. Biting back a retort, he left briskly past her, door resounding behind in a call of finality. 

She sank into her chair once he left, not heeding the torrential silence. The lights flickered again, dark in the dark. Her eyes followed the room once more. The desk stood stolid, the computer lapsed in function, and dust veiled the floor. They then met the window.

The night seemed oblivion, the silhouettes of her room a painting made true, lit by the broken light bulbs. Norelle stared at the empty chair.

Her gaze rested on it for a moment. Then, in sorrowed rage, she threw the chair and shattered her empty reflection.

She wept in the glass shards, hunger befalling.

Henry shivered in the cold, forcing the sights from his mind. The moon glinted up above. He squinted despite the darkness.

He turned the street corner, but stopped at a faint sound—a distant one. The wind still whistled, the cars still drove, the bats still squeaked. He started running.

The wind, the cars, and the bats are all eclipsed by a crescendo of footsteps, soon followed by his own. Overlapping staccatos march through the night. Henry stumbled over stones and sidewalk, not daring to turn his head.

The footsteps stop as a figure behind urges him to the ground and beckons the blood from his veins. 

Norelle ceded to hunger, seeing her friend again one final time.