• The Urge



    It was doomed from the start; I had always known that. I guess a part of me hoped that our love would be enough.

    Chapter One
    We heard about him on the news. For me, it was a vague childhood memory that only clung because of the shock value.

    I was eight or nine at the time and still liked to hang out with my parents. Snuggling up to them on the couch with a TV dinner, I watched the evening news with them almost every night.

    The first time I saw him, a kind social worker was leading him out of an average house that could have been down the street or a thousand miles away. His face was smeared with dirt and blood, and his hair was shaved off in clumps.

    “Brian and Melissa Gardner of Maybrooke, Kansas seemed ordinary to their neighbors,” the reporter said. “That is, until earlier this week.” The reporter walked along the sidewalk outside the home. “The Gardners have lived in this house for years, but a few weeks ago, neighbors noticed that their son, Samuel Gardner, wasn’t riding his bike around the neighborhood like he used to. As time went on, they became concerned for the boy’s welfare.”

    The newscast flipped to a recording of a kind-looking woman who turned out to be Melissa’s mother. “Melissa and Brian married so young, but they were both so responsible; we didn’t think anything of it. Little Sammy was such a sweetheart, I would have never guessed…never even thought…” she burst into tears. “I’m sorry,” she said. “If I’d only known what Melissa was capable of, I could have stopped them.”

    Back to the reporter. The camera slowly zoomed in on her face as she spoke. “Last night, neighbors called the police, reporting that they’d heard screaming from the Gardner house. Police were there in minutes and were met with a gruesome sight.”

    A police officer came on screen. The script on the bottom identified him as Officer Hardy. “We didn’t know what we were going to see in there. Upon entering the house we noticed that there were crucifixes everywhere, along with graphic depictions of Bible stories. We went past the boy’s room, although we didn’t figure that out until later, and the walls were plastered with images of hell. The only furniture was a bed with ropes tied to the posts. We continued to the kitchen and found the two parents, dead, and Samuel standing in a pool of their blood.”

    The reporter pasted a concerned look on her face. “Upon further investigation, it was discovered that Brian and Melissa had been religious fanatics— calling out members of their community for witchery and striking deals with demons. When police searched the house, they found Melissa’s diary describing her fears that her son was a demon and professing her guilt at abusing him. Police suspected that Samuel, sick of the beatings, had killed his parents in self-defense. However, once Samuel was questioned, and even darker truth emerged.”

    My mother tutted over the case at that point. “The poor boy. What kind of mother does that to her son?”

    My father lit a cigarette. “Religious freaks!” My attention was still focused on the reporter.

    “Samuel was born with an odd psychological condition. His pediatrician was called in earlier this morning.”

    “It was the strangest thing,” Dr. Alaster said, “but the kid craves human blood like an addict craves heroine.”

    “The Gardners sent Samuel to therapy for many years,” the reporter said, “but it hadn’t helped much. He began to rebel against his parents’ and psychiatrists’ rules. Melissa was forced to quit her job and stay home with Samuel after he bit several of his classmates. On that fateful night, night he broke the lock on his door, killed his parents, and drank their blood.”

    The story slowly dropped from all the news stations. I only knew that Samuel Gardner was sent to a special psychiatric hospital. America forgot about him, but I didn’t.

    I got older and my family fell on hard times. I no longer sat on the couch and watched the news with my parents. In fact, I tried not to be home most nights at all. My dad lost his job and never found a new one. He laid around the house all day, began drinking, and took up the contact sport of wife beating. My mom got another job, a night shift at the local Wal-Mart, and left me on the receiving end of my dad’s fist. I was better at avoiding it than my mother, but occasionally I caught him in a really bad mood.

    When he was finished with me, I’d go to my room and lay on my bed, waiting for the pain to dull so I could sleep, and I’d say to myself, “At least you’re not Samuel Gardner.”

    ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    “Hadrianna!”

    I kept my eyes closed, although it was the third time.

    “You’re going to fall! I don’t want to watch search and rescue dragging the river for your corpse.”

    “I’ve done this a million times. You worry too much.”

    “And you don’t worry enough. C’mon, we’re late for school anyways.” Corina put her hand on my arm and tugged gently.

    “In a minute.” I opened my eyes and took in the view. We were on the bridge that overlooks McCleary Creek, and I was standing on the second rung of the railing. I liked the way the wind whipped my scarf around, how it felt like flying.

    “Haddy, I’ve got a paper due!” Corina whined.

    “Fine!”

    I got down and followed my best friend through the old factory/warehouse section of our small town. It had been abandoned years ago, and Corina insisted that I walk her through it every morning. The area was full of drunks stumbling home after a long night of careless indulgence.

    “Hey, did you see the news last night?”

    “No. I worked late and passed out as soon as I got home. Why?”

    “Ohmygosh, it’s so creepy!” She twirled a piece of her green hair. “You know that vampire kid?”

    “No.”

    She shoved me lightly. “You know! That one that like, murdered his entire family and drank their blood!”

    “Samuel Gardner?” My breath caught. I hadn’t spoken his name to anyone else since I was a kid, never revealed my fixation to anyone.

    “Yeah, sure. Anyways, I was watching the local news channel, and I guess they’re letting him out of the crazy place he was in.”

    “What?” I can’t remember ever having been that interested in what Corina said.

    “I know, right? I’m like, ‘How can they let a psycho like that loose?’ Seriously.”

    “When is he being released?”

    “I dunno.” She crossed her arms. “Stalker much?”

    “I’m just curious.” I rolled my eyes.

    “Sure.” She shook her head. “Yesterday, in my psych class, I learned that denial is never healthy.”

    “I remember the case from when I was little, that’s all.”

    “Uh huh.”

    “Seriously! Except…I suddenly have this terrible longing…for blood!” I grabbed Corina’s sides and tickled her.

    “No!” she shrieked. “Mercy! Please! I beg! I beg!”

    I was so involved in torturing Corina that I didn’t notice the police car that pulled up next to us.

    “Skipping class, girls?” the officer said.

    We froze.

    “By my clock, school started thirty minutes ago. Shouldn’t you be there?”

    “Uh…” my face heated up as I failed to come up with a good excuse. “We’re just running late.”

    “I see,” he said. “How about I give you two a lift? Ever ridden in the back of a police car?” We both shook our heads. “Well, get in.”

    The ride was uncomfortable. The car smelled like vomit, and the officer kept glancing at us to see how we were taking being on the wrong end of the law. To make things worse, it was a K-9 unit. Fido was drooling on my jeans.

    “Thanks for the ride, sir,” I said when we pulled up to the school. My buckle was already undone, my legs itching to get out.

    “You have a nice day, girls. And I’d stay away from that area of town. Unsavory folks hanging around there these days.” He opened the door for us.

    “Thanks for the advice,” Corina said.

    Inside the building the halls were empty, the other teens already in their classes. Corina glared at me.

    “I told you we’d be late.”

    “Sorry.” I shrugged.

    “No, you’re not,” she sighed. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

    “See you.”

    I went to my class- modern history. The teacher, Mr. Hasenguard, gave me a nasty look when I interrupted his lecture on Russian czars. “Do you have a pass?”

    “No.”

    “So you’re just late, then.”

    “Uh-huh.”

    He shook his head. “You’ll have to get notes from someone else.”

    I nodded. Although I’m a generally good student, Mr. Hasenguard has taken a disliking to me. Probably because I’m always late for his class. Oops!

    As bad as my morning had already been, I was ready for it to get better. Alas, I was disappointed. My English teacher told the entire class that we should go back to middle school and learn how to write, and my Anatomy teacher announced that our test on bone growth and repair was going to be moved up, based on our excellent progress. The curse of being in a class of overachievers, I suppose.

    After sitting through an hour of general music, I finally had lunch. School lunches are dubious at best. Today, I was given the choice between dead baby brains and road kill. I chose a salad. I scanned the lunchroom for Corina, but couldn’t find her. Grumbling, I grabbed my backpack and took my lunch out to the parking lot. Technically we weren’t allowed to eat outside, but no one really enforced that rule in winter.

    Sure enough, Corina was sitting in her boyfriend’s car, taking a big bite of dead baby brains. I knocked on the window.

    “Let me in! It’s frickin’ freezing out here!”

    Nick, her boyfriend, hit the unlock button, and I climbed into the back.

    “What’s up, Haddy?”

    “Nothing worth mentioning.”

    “That’s cool.”

    Nick’s a bit of a stoner. And when I say ‘a bit,’ I mean a lot. But he really loves Corina. I’m not sure what she sees in him, though.

    I ate a bit of my salad, then laid back on the seats. Corina and Nick’s whispered conversation combined with the warm air pouring out of the heater, and it lulled me to sleep.

    I woke up cold. I didn’t have a watch, but guessed that I’d been out for a while. The car was parked in front of Corina’s house, and the sky was starting to darken. I got out of the car and ran into the house— I left my jacket at school.

    I waved hello to Corina’s brothers and mother and went right to her room.

    “Thanks for waking me up,” I said.

    She looked up from her homework. “You were so tired; I didn’t want to disturb you. We were talking about sleep in my biology class today, and apparently if you nap for more than five minutes it’s a sign of sleep deprivation.”

    “I’ll remember that.” I sat down next to Nick, who was watching anime on his lap top.

    “Seriously though,” she said. “You work too late. If the school knew—”

    “Cor, the alternative is home at night. What do you want me to do?”

    “Fine. If you don’t want to care about your health, I won’t either.”

    I was both grateful and disappointed that she let the subject drop so easily. I had been hinting for years that I wanted to move out of my house, but the offer to stay with her never came. I can’t blame her. Her family has enough problems without another mouth to feed.

    “I should get going. I’ve got to work again tonight.”

    “Careful walking home,” she said, not looking up from her homework.

    “Aren’t you going to walk with me?”

    “No.” She glanced up. “It’s cold out, and Nick and I just warmed up.”

    The back of my throat dried up. The walk would take me back through the warehouse district, and, as much as I teased her about her fear of walking through there, I was scared too.

    “I’ll call you when I get home,” I said.

    “Do what you want. I’ll be listening to music, though, so I probably won’t hear it.”

    “Well, I’ll talk to you tomorrow, then.”

    “Sure.”

    I hated walking home alone. Usually Corina would walk me, or at least force Nick to give me a lift. The warehouse district was even more dangerous at night. The old corn mill had been converted into an apartment building. It was part of some large housing project that had been abandoned. Every once in a while, someone rents a floor for a few months, but I’d seen no lights in the window for about a year, so you can imagine my surprise when I noticed the top floor all lit up. A van was parked on the street by the door.

    Instinctively, I crossed to the other side of the street. The people who rented in the building before had not been the savory sort. I considered going back and forcing Corina to walk me home, but my curiosity got the better of me. I slowed down as I walked past.

    A young man, maybe in his early twenties, was unloading furniture from the back of the van. I couldn’t really make out any features because of the light except for his dark, curly hair. He glanced over at me and stopped what he was doing. I waved half-heartedly. He didn’t wave back, and I got the distinct feeling that he was frowning at me. I foolishly opened my mouth to yell at him, but he looked away.

    I blushed and hurried away. It was stupid of me to stop. That guy could have been a rapist or a serial killer. The police officer was right. I should stay away from the warehouse district.

    ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    I work at a 24-hour gas station on the corner opposite the Wal-Mart where my mom works. At my request, the manager gives me the seven to one shift. It’s usually really dead, so I have a good chance to get my homework done. If the school knew about my late night job and study habits I’d probably get shoved into social services for the rest of the eight months before I turn eighteen.

    At midnight, I glanced up from my Prose Reader and focused on the Wal-Mart parking lot. I saw my mother exit the building and caught the glow of her lighter as she held it up to her cigarette. I almost expected her to come visit me or something. Instead, like every other night, she walked to her car and drove past without even the slightest of glances in my direction.

    Sighing, I returned my attention to extended metaphors and the definition of tone, only to be interrupted again when the door chime rang. I didn’t look up. If he or she needed help, they could just holler. The late night crew was used to that sort of treatment.

    I heard the refrigerator door open and close and a crinkling chip bag. The two items appeared on the counter, and I finally looked up at my customer. It was the guy from the warehouse district; at least I thought it was. He was fumbling with his wallet instead of looking at me, and I took advantage of the opportunity to study him.

    He was tall, exaggerated by the curls on his head. He was looking down, so I couldn’t see his face, but his hands were fine-boned and graceful as he flipped through his wallet.

    “Any gas tonight, sir?” I asked. I had almost forgotten my job.

    “No, that’s it.” He still didn’t glance up.

    “Your total comes to three ninety-seven.” He handed me a card. “Credit or debit?” Who pays for chips and soda with a card?

    “Credit.” He finally looked at me. He frowned. “Aren’t you a bit young to be working this late?”

    I slid his card. “I’m older than I look.” I gave the card back along with two receipts. “Sign this one at the bottom, please.” He grabbed one of the pens from my jar and scribbled on the line. “Thank you, and have a nice night.”

    “Thank you.”

    After he was gone I looked at the receipt he’d signed, and my heart stopped.

    The signature read “Sam Gardner.”