The Martyr's Heartbeat This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

May 5, 2014
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I must have read the letter a dozen times by the end of the day, and I was going to read it again. I had found it in my locker, wrinkled like an old candy wrapper -- what was inside, had been just as sweet. It read:

I think I'm in love with you. I've had a crush on you for two years. Now that we're seniors, I think I'm mature enough to tell you in person. Meet me at the alley beside The Levon building tomorrow after school? Please.

I found it funny how the mystery-lover wrote about being mature enough to speak in person when they'd said such passionate words on a rumpled piece of notebook paper. After reading it for the fifth time, earlier, I decided to actually meet this charming anonym; taking the risk of falling into a kidnapper's trap was fine with me. I'd never been crush on, after all. Nonetheless, received a letter regarding love for me. I mean, who's hard would dare drop or skip beats for me? I was only a regular high school student who's only talent was playing Fur Elise on the ivory of piano keys. And who'd be attracted to a guy who's hair looked like wet sand? I was so ordinary. Too ordinary. Still, that just made me even more intrigued by the author of my love letter.

The next day went by as usual, beside my vigorous attempt to uncover the mystery lover. I had no such lock. Fortunately, the day went by fast enough. I foolishly jogged to the Levon building, like a school girl. How embarrassing. I had snapped out of my spring-like daze once I'd reached the alleyway. And there stood the motionless silhouette of a male.

I reproached, suspecting a criminal would lunge at me with a pocket knife and a clothe drenched in chloroform. I planned to run, never look back, and contact the principal who would contact the police and dust for prints and all that other CSI stuff. But then, I suddenly ceased as words escaped my dry lips. "Hello?" I carefully greeted like an buffoon.

The dark figure shifted, it's head facing my direction. What in the hell was it so dark? "Simon?" A deep voice seemed to trickle down the alley and into my ear, then seep over my eardrum.

I felt my body writhe as I contemplated walking into the dark path. I ultimately choose to join the person afar. I guess my curiosity got the best of me. Also, something about his voice sounded familiar.
As I tip toed into the shadows, the voice rang again. "I, uh, can't believe you came."

"You wrote me that letter?" I murmured, dubiously.
"Yeah, sorry if that's weird," the voice grew louder as I came closer to it. "I don't even know if you're gay."

How awkward. I wasn't gay, or even bi for that matter. At that moment, I figured I needed a new haircut. Still, I couldn't help but feel flattered.
I chuckled, "I'm not."

I had finally reached the person. The first think I saw were his eyes, surprising, considering they were so dark. At first, I saw maroon -- irises that appeared to be cimmerian vixen blood, draining into an abyss called his pupil. At first, I saw no life in them. Eventually, my common sense had awaken my mind and I saw they were only ebony.

His hair rain like a nighttime waterfall down his neck and before his brow. It all stood out against his pale skin.

"Oh," his eyes became somber before they dropped to the pavement. "Sorry." As he started to exit the alley, I realized who he was. I opened my mouth to say his name, but it was not my voice that chimed. It was another, that sounded more like a knell.

"Where are you going, homo?" It was Robert, a student at my school known for bullying and his excellence at football. However, he wasn't a star that shined so bright.

More voices tittered beyond. "We wan't to see the end of this heez love story." Another voice snickered.

The darkness blurred their faces, I couldn't quite make them out. I wondered why they were here. How'd they know we were meeting in the first place. Hadn't Rob gotten enough when he smashed the guy into a locker earlier that morning? I wanted say something… defend my mystery-lover. But what could I do? I watched this guy get beat up every day, then walked away like it was just another re-run. I was just a stand-by. His audience. What could I do all of a sudden?

"Leave him alone, Robert." I forced a voice of confidence from my dry throat.

"Shut the hell up, you're a homo too, dumb-ass!" Shouted yet another voice.

"Finn the homo, come back you little b****." Another voice.

I turned to Finn, who had been just turning around to face his bullies. He sighed. "Can you please just leave me alone?"

The figures that the voices belonged to finally got close enough for me to make out who they were: Robert, Joseph, Connor and Brandon.

"You have to be punished, homo Finn, for being gay!" Sneered Robert.

There I was again, simply standing by.

The four boys abruptly shoved their way past me and jolted for Finn. The moment went askew. I remember plummeting to the damp pavement. Four bodies in a fray around Finn. They shouted horrible words and phrases that only a devil could conjure up. I heard muffled punches against ribs and the jaw… Finn's ribs and jaw. It all happened so quickly, but lasted to long. I got glimpses of Finn's arms rebelling against the evil coterie. Nevertheless, his swings were barely enough to get him out of that brutal situation.

When the four boys finally stopped their unfair brawl with Finn, they came after me. "Now for the other homo," someone said. I hadn't pain much attention to them up until they grabbed me. My eyes stayed on Finn; battered and bruised, laying on the pavement in a puddle of blood that leaked from his mouth and torso.

"Look what you did," I cried. "Stop!" Two of the bullies wrestled me, then they pinned me up against the brick wall that confined us all.

"Shove it up your ass." Snapped Connor, his blue eyes darkened.

I was going to protest: shout or swear. The words formed on my lips, but a meaningless breath was yanked furiously out of my lungs when someone punched me in the stomach. Bloody saliva spewed from my mouth. I heard someone swear, and another encourage more beating. "No," I uttered though the froth of blood and spit forming around my teeth. They didn't listen. Another fist rocketed toward my abdomen, but was ceased.

It was Finn.

He didn't look so hurt anymore. The only thing damaged about him were the bruises and cuts, other than that, he seemed good as new.

Robert scowled. "Still awake, fa--" the only sound that came from Robert next, was the one of a a strangled animal. Finn's wide palm and fingers gripped his throat tightly like a python -- draining the breath from it's prey. Robert's skin quickly began to look like the inside of a strawberry, and his skin wrinkled as his face sank deeply into his collar.

"Hey!" Growled Connor as he started toward Finn. The guys holding me up glanced at each other, puzzled. Maybe wondering if they should help Robert or run.

Connor attempted to shove Finn, but Finn did not move. When his eyes bet Connor's, Connor shuttered; and for a moment, hesitated.
Finn let go of Robert, who fell to his knees and lied motionless on the ground. Connor threw a weak punch at Finn, who blocked it with his forearm and somehow got Connor in a position that made him scream for mercy. Finn was deaf. Connor's nape was exposed and his vein pulsed roughly under his blood-swollen skin. Finn's perched lips widened until lengthy fangs were unveiled. These fangs dug need into Connor's neck which quickly went from red to white. Connor was dead.

The guys holding me against the wall dismissed themselves, abating the site at which their friend had died.

I fell to the ground, heaving in fear and agony.

Finn tossed Connor to the side, kicking his lifeless body too far for human strength to do. Then, he turned to Robert who seemed just as dead. Finn jerked Robert's head by the hair and snarled. "Don't ever touch him, again." Those were his words before wringing Robert's neck and tossing him to the side along with Connor. Of course; why taint himself with the blood of a social terrorist?

Finn, drenched in someone else's blood, sat on the ground across from me. He said nothing. Perhaps, knowing my fear of his monstrousness. His vampirism. He'd murdered two people within five minutes. And for what? Me? I was just a messy haired stand-by.

I tried using my upper body strength the escape the haunted alley, but I was in too much pain. I yelped and tried to keep from crying.

"Sorry," Finn repeated. As I glanced into his eyes, I realized that he actually was sorry. And probably for more than just the incident. Sorry for himself. Sorry for who he was. Sorry for being a vampire. Sorry for being gay. I told myself he had no need to apologize. I said not a word.

Then, as I kept on watching his eyes, I realized that they were not ebony. I realized they were as crimson as blood itself.

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Red546 said...
May 8, 2014 at 2:55 pm
Oh my god I love this! Can I have more?
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