“I love you Charlie Z,” Charlotte sobbed. Charlie Z (not his real name, but a name he liked) just laughed. He wanted to get rid of her. She was too clingy — she just wanted too much. Charlie Z was a vampire and Charlotte just didn’t fit into his chosen lifestyle. Admittedly Charlotte also claimed to be a vampire, but Charlie knew she was just a “pussy” wannabe like everyone else. Charlie wasn’t an emo-sissy turned on by Gothic Romanticism. He was a real vampire who enjoyed the sight and taste of blood. He enjoyed being the Man in Control — bullying younger kids at school. It started when he stole a kid’s lunch money in the fourth grade — it was a rush to dominate the smaller boy. His bullying became more extreme as he grew older: name calling, punching, forcing younger guys to do his bidding, and finally sucking blood. He didn’t plan on killing anyone (that would be dangerous) — he just liked hurting people and forcing them to do what he wanted. It was the greatest thrill of his life to cut someone on the hand or neck and suck out the blood. Charlie Z was a legend, hated and feared.
Charlotte was always nagging, but her blood tasted good and she gave an “ok” hand-job. Charlie wanted to be rid of Charlotte — she never went all the way — she wouldn’t even give him a real blowjob. He knew a kid named Arnie who was a great cock-sucker once he was forced into it. Charlie Z began to hate the sight of Charlotte. She was plain ugly. She wore too much make up and sleazy dresses that made her look like a prostitute. He taunted her and called her an ugly bitch. She whined and fussed like a little girl. Lately, Charlotte fought back. She stood up to Charlie — she called Charlie an asshole and fake. She threatened Charlie if he didn’t do what she demanded. Charlie never faced anyone who didn’t back down — he never faced a real adversary. He wanted to kill Charlotte. He lashed out, slashing at Charlotte with a kitchen knife. He wanted to see her blood. Charlie Z laughed as he attacked Charlotte. In the same moment Charlie was assaulted by Charlotte’s piercing laughter. The flow of blood didn’t stop the laughter. Charlotte hissed through a fog of pain, “I’m you Charlie — I’ve always been you — laughing at you behind your back — prancing like a drag queen in the mirror.” Charlie stopped stabbing at his own body. He broke down and sobbed like a baby. When he awoke in the hospital he knew his life would never be the same. Charlie Z was transferred to the mental-health ward for his own protection. He lived in a padded cell, he was force fed and subdued with medication. He just wanted to sleep and never wake up, but he couldn’t turn off his mind. The drugs changed Charlie and he began to look like a zombie, but they didn’t stop the visions: blood streaming down the walls of his cell, blood everywhere; Charlotte screaming like a banshee and licking a large dildo. The male nurse put Charlie in a wheelchair and rolled him into the recreation room filled with other patients. The doctor thought socialization would be good for Charlie. It became part of his daily routine. Charlie was traumatized by the other patients. They looked like his former victims, laughing and leering at him — calling him names and making lewd gestures. Charlie was unable to express his distress — he was too numb from the drugs. There was a computer in the rec room for patients to play video games. Charlie had several minutes everyday at the computer. He just sat and stared dumbly at the screen. One day the screen lit up with a message, “Charley Z, we have been searching for a person with your special skills and intelligence. You have been selected from thousands of potential candidates to become part of a visionary program. Come to the Night Station.” The strange message was like a feast to a dying man. As impossible as it seemed, Charley had no doubt that he would find his way to the Night Station. (to be continued)