Becoming Chaos

He’s definitely looking at me, I thought as I stared at the man in the black leather jacket. He was wearing a tight-fitting white shirt underneath, and his muscles bulged through the thin fabric. Tousled black and silver hair crowned the man's head. Dark denim jeans torn at the thighs and knees showed golden-tan skin. A trimmed beard accented and framed his prominent jaw. He was standing alone in the corner and was eyeing me since I arrived like I was some kind of reward. He didn’t look away when I caught him staring. Confident. I love it. Loud music blared across the confines of the club. Multi-colored lights flashed in and out of the dark as the mix of people drank, danced, and flirted away to their hearts’ content. The club goers lived their experience while I just sat there at the bar. Hey Kaylene, you’re new to this. You’ll get the hang of it soon enough. I took a sip of my drink. Cosmopolitan. Lime, orange, and cranberries dominated the taste of my poison of choice. I never liked it. Before I had my first glass of alcohol, I imagined it would taste like dreams coming true, or sunshine after the rain. When I was finally done with the drink, I almost puked. It boggled my wits as to why people drank the stuff. For starters, they didn’t come cheap. Drinks in Manhattan bars aren’t budget-friendly for someone who only works flipping burgers for a living. Secondly, they tasted awful. No matter what the bartender put in it -be it lemon juice, pineapples, olives, or perhaps even unicorn s**t- it still tasted to me like bile served cold. At least, if it was any consolation, it was pink. But then again, here I was, downing the third Cointreau-laden liquid in one swig. Something in it made me feel warm. It woke up a sleeping part of my soul and made my heart beat faster by the second. I felt a little dizzy. Maybe it wasn’t the taste that made people want to drink. Maybe it was the experience. The sensation. The feeling of being a little bit over-the-edge. Of losing control. Of escaping. I set the cocktail glass down. The bartender offered to pour me a new one, but I refused. Three glasses of the cranberry piss had given me the courage I needed to finally decide to approach the dangerously-handsome stranger in the leather jacket. I slapped a fifty and a tenner down on the wooden bar and gave the attending barman a wink. He smiled and winked back. It was a thrill that he didn’t have a clue. It wasn't as exciting as the first time I showed my fake ID to the steroid-pumped bouncer at the door several weeks ago, but it was still fun. Fooling adults who thought they knew better was exhilarating. I couldn't blame them, though. I looked a little older than my actual age - more twenty-one than eighteen. Perhaps, jumping in and out of foster care homes helped me develop a more mature persona. I stood up and felt the floor beneath me sway a little. The drumming bass of the DJ’s music didn’t help. Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself and tugged at the hem of my skimpy black dress, as if doing so would stretch it further down my displayed long legs. I flicked my long spill of brown hair back, exposing my fair neck and my cleavage -if I HAD cleavage. Rummaging inside my purse, I fished my compact mirror out. Smoky gray eyes, check. Blushed high cheekbones, check. Perfect eyebrows, check and check. I puckered my red-painted lips and off I went. Here goes nothing, I thought as I tried my best to project the aura of a beauty queen while walking half-tipsy on stilettos in a multicolored bar. I crossed the crowd of people dancing and milling around The Dead Rabbit like Moses did when he parted the Red Sea. The bar- goers were breaking their necks as I walked past. I didn’t spare them a single glance as I was laser- focused on the man in front of me. His seductive stares were drawing me in like a moth to a burning lamp. Finally, I stood before him. My heart rose to my throat. “So, you new here?” I asked in a higher pitch than I had intended. Damn it Kay, you sound like a pro. The stranger did not reply. Instead, he took a step toward me, bringing his muscled body closer to mine. He reached his calloused hand to my face and I felt the strength of his big, brutish hand. He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear and my body tensed as I caught a whiff of his scent. Ugh, Axe body spray. Up close, I saw that he wasn’t so perfect, after all. He seemed older. Mid-thirties, perhaps. Under the colored lights, I could see the tiny scars across his face. One stood out among the rest: a thin, silvery gash that ran from his left cheek down to his chin. It was visible beneath his black and silver beard. I didn’t mind it though. If anything, it just added to his predatory appeal. “Want to get out of this place?” he asked, his voice deep and husky. I did not answer and just bit my lower lip. Without a word, he took my hand. I suppressed a giggle as electricity ran up the length of my arm from his tight grip. He turned on his heel and moved to leave, walking fast as though the devil was chasing him. His strides were so long, I could barely keep up. He was so swift and strong that he almost dragged me like a luggage bag across an airport lobby. But I didn’t care. My nerves were singing and I could almost hear my blood in my ears. Ooh, this is exciting. I smiled. We made our way through the throng of leather-clad people dancing on the floor to techno music like witless robots. An Asian girl who was flailing her arms like she had no care in the world nearly bumped into me. I shot her a dark look as we passed. She turned to me and half-apologized. Under other circumstances, she’d have it coming. But I was in a good mood. I wouldn’t let something minuscule take away my fleeting joy. A few strides later, we were out of the bar. Breathless, I glanced around and saw that we were in a long and narrow alley separating The Dead Rabbit from another bar whose name I couldn’t remember. The passage we were in was so poorly lit that I almost ran my shins against a dumpster. Cold night air blew, cooling my hot, pulsing face. Oh boy, the odor of New York never changes, I thought as I inhaled the sweet smell of high city life, piss, and garbage. Cars were honking from a distance, their sounds faint compared to the beating inside my chest. My heart was slamming against my rib cage from the Cosmopolitan and nervous anxiety. It was going to happen. As if on cue, he pulled at my hand and brought me closer to his hot and beefy frame. Our bodies touched in funny places, sending unfamiliar sensations throughout my system. I put my right hand over his thick pectoral muscles and squeezed. Reaching for his face with my other hand, I ran my fingers from his left cheek to his ear. My fingertips found his dark hair. I pulled at the tousled black and silver strands, and he moaned in unexpected pleasure. Damn it girl, who are you? He pushed me to the wall. I could feel his weight, heavy against my frailness. My breathing got faster and deeper as he inched his face closer. I shut my eyes as I waited for his lips to touch mine. The moment felt like it stretched to eternity. He was taking his time. He knew in an instant that I hated to wait, but still, he withdrew. The anticipation was killing me. Already, my nerves were buzzing with electricity. I felt a shiver run through me. Without second thoughts, I opened my eyes and went in for the kiss. His mouth was hot, wet, and hard against my lips. Oh please, I hope he doesn’t notice it’s my first time, I thought as I put my hands around the nape of his neck. I could feel his warmth - no - I could feel his heat. His body was strangely hot. It was as though the sun was trapped underneath his skin. His nearness invaded my senses. He was so close that I could smell his odor beneath his body spray. I thought he smelled faintly like a wet dog, but I ignored it and went deeper in his kiss. His lips moved with expertise from my mouth to my chin and down to my neck. I moaned at the strange feeling of his saliva drenching my exposed nape. “Kaylene Summers,” he moaned, his voice huskier than before. “You are so beautiful,” he teased, drawing his face away from mine. “I kno-” I stopped as soon as it hit me. My eyes widened as I held my breath. How the heck did he know my name? “It is such a shame you will die tonight,” he whispered, grabbing both of my hands and pinning them to the wall above my head. A cold shudder passed through me as though someone just threw a bucket of ice-water all over my body. I jerked upright and opened my eyes. He was gawking at me. His stares were no longer seductive nor passionate. They were hungry. His face was an inch away from mine. He looked different. He was the same person, but something in his features changed. His eyes. Moments ago, they were a dark shade of blue, but now they glowed a bright, luminous yellow. He grinned at me like a maniac, smiling from ear to ear, as he bared his huge, yellowish-white teeth. A continuous low growl came from his throat. All of a sudden, the smell of wet dogs became overwhelming. I tried to free my hands from his grip, but he was too strong. I flailed my body in an attempt to push him away, hitting his shoulder with mine, but his corded muscles felt like steel. “Let me go, you freak!” I screamed. “I will call the cops! Let me go!” “Feisty,” he mused. “I like women who have it in them.” I spat on his face. Wrong move, Kay. The stranger craned his head at a slight angle as his face seemed to change again. His jaw twitched and the veins on his face bulged. He regarded me with curious eyes as though I was something new or strange to him, like a cat seeing a mouse for the first time. I swallowed the terror beginning at the back of my mouth. The beating of my heart went ballistic as my knees buckled. If he hadn't pinned me in place, I would have fallen to the ground. “Who are you? What do you want?” “YOUR LIFE," he growled. His facial muscles contorted as he bared his teeth even more. I stared in frozen terror as his canines elongated and sharpened to points. His mouth seemed to protrude into some sort of an animal-like muzzle and drew his head back. I screamed like the frightened girl that I was as he went for my bare shoulder. He freaking bit me. An agonized scream escaped me as his thick fangs pierced into my flesh. A sticky wetness streamed from my wounds as I fought to steady my shaking legs. What is happening? I wondered as the monster bit my bleeding shoulder over and over. A wave of dizziness washed over me as I bled profusely. My confused and scared mind whirled as I heard him laugh through his growls. He withdrew his muzzle-like mouth and faced me. I tried to focus my energy on not giving the monstrosity the satisfaction of seeing me cry. “Where is the feisty little bitc-” He never got to finish his sentence. I fell to the ground on my knees as the metallic grip holding me up disappeared in a flash. With what remaining consciousness I had, I glanced and saw a hooded figure lift the monster to the air. The figure tossed the leather-clad abomination to the dumpster as if he weighed nothing. Are these my dying hallucinations? I thought as I realized that the hooded shadow was a man. “Soul Dealer,” the beast hissed at the man before him. “I am not done here, Riverwoods. I shall return,” he threatened. The man replied, but I could not hear him anymore over the ringing in my head. My body went limp as more blood escaped my open wounds. My head felt heavy, or it may have felt light, I did not know. All I knew was that the crippling darkness- and a strange sense of peace- had finally overwhelmed me. Is this how it ends? I wondered as I fell on my face to the ground.