There is a quick and easy explanation for this. I have been telling myself for three nights straight that I
write something. I've had an idea somewhat in my mind for that long that I wanted to get it out into the open. But because of a combination of procrastination and simply not knowing where to begin, I obviously haven't been successful in getting anything written. But tonight, since practically no one is on anyways to do anything, here's a long awaited one-shot. I don't know that you could call it a
because it just details the finer points in Damien's life since he became a werelion. It is in his point of view, just as a heads up.
A Monsters ReprieveI'm skirting on a fine line. A line that will eventually be the death of me, or so I've been told.
This particular line was a fine solid one. One that had the words 'Do not pass!' printed boldly on it, and one that was easily recognizable. For everyone, this line did exist to an extent. Some chose to obey the solid line and did not under any circumstance pass beyond it. Others, like myself had nothing better to do than to test the lines limits. To test and see how far they could go before it sapped back. Though, after several attempts of testing these limits, I grew bored. Testing the line was not nearly as fun as actually crossing the line. Several attempts made crossing the solid line fairly easy, and an enjoyable task for me. By crossing the line, I'd stepped beyond the threshold to something else entirely. A world that was new but also exciting to me. A world that no doubt would be the death of me.
I suppose before I continue, I probably should introduce myself. I'm Damien Lovett. Plain and simple. I'm eighteen, going on nineteen.
I didn't ask for the life that was given to me. I didn't ask to be thrust into a world that, although was connecting to the human world, came with it's own separate rules and laws to abide by. I could barely abide by the laws when I was a human. Now I was expected to learn a new set of rules and abide by them? Now that was not possible. It was as easy as that. I. Could. Not. Follow. The. Rules. Anyone who does not understand that will not understand how that correlates with the rest of my story. And for those who do not understand it, it'd be advisable they skipped to the end. That out of the way, there's just one more thing it wold be helpful to mention. I'm a werelion. Have been for nearly half a year now.
Rules were always meant to be broken in my case. Even as a child, I liked to break whatever rule lay right in front of me. Yes, my parents tried to stop me from doing it, and yes they set so many restrictions on me when I did break a rule so blatantly. Did I care? Not really, no. I doubted even then that anything would keep me from doing otherwise. Breaking rules was all of the fun in it...Unless you actually liked to get yelled at. Well, I wasn't much of a fan of the yelling aspect of it, as it typically meant I yelled right back - I'm a very argumentative person - But essentially, it was for the the joy and rush that came with it that I would choose to do so. Either way, I'd been thrust into the lycanthrope world blinded, figuratively speaking. Confusion was the only thing I understood for a little bit. Well, among other things. A lot of it was just a shock to me. At eighteen and into my senior year of high school, I was moved out of my parents house to live with some complete stranger known as Bradon Mackenzie. He was what the lycanthropes called the 'Rex' of the 'Pride' all new terms to me. But terms that I would quickly have to learn.
There were few others in the Pride at the time that I showed up, but there was one who came either before or after me, I'm not quite sure which. I just know that we've roughly been in the Pride the same amount of time. Georgette VanHook. Or one of her many other names which included (but were not necessarily limited to) Georgi and Geo. Easily, she was the one that stuck out the most to me, perhaps for various reasons. The number one reason though being that regardless of what we did, the two of us were at each others throats. As though we found it fun to bicker and fight with one another. In fact, I don't remember being able to have a real conversation with her without it ending in a fight. It's just as well though. Perhaps against my own will, I finally came to know Georgette as almost an oldest sister to me. And for me, that was different. I wasn't use to being the younger one. The one that always seemed to need to be protected. Of course, I would never have admitted it to anyone. To everyone around me, I was adament about claiming I didn't need help or their protection. And that's still the truth, mostly...
It wasn't too long after I moved in though before Bradon and a number of others started getting iritated with the both of us. Granted, I couldn't remember doing anything wrong to make them angry at me, I could remember a few suggestions being tossed around. At least until Dorian - Temoin of the New Orleans Kiss, or second to the Master of the City Mikhail - now, Dorian's suggestion was fairly reasonable. To keep Georgette and I out of Bradon and Maddox's hair, we'd take up jobs at Dorian's club Eternity. At the time, I didn't like the idea. I'd never worked a day in my life. And quite honestly, I liked to keep it that way. But, it didn't appear as though there'd been a lot of choice in the matter. Reluctantly, we had no other choice than to agree.
Oddly enough, working their wasn't as bad as I'd original thought possible. Tell anyone that though, and I'd happily decline ever knowing anything about saying so. As I was saying though, work became a ritual, along with everything else in life. Still, Georgette and I had out differences in opinions. We continued to fight - which could have helped explain why at work, we stay as far away from one another as possible - the bickering wasn't going to let up for us though. Yes, there were hours when we were not at each others throats, which was mainly because of work. But the rest of the time we spent arguing about every little thing. I could do one small thing and she'd give me hell about it. I knew she was purposely antagonizing me, and I rose to the bait more often than none.
Things were as quiet as could be given the circumstances though. It wasn't as though I went out and got into a lot of trouble on a day-to-day basis. Actually, for me it was a weekly basis. After so many months, you begin to know some of the limits and some of the consequences that followed. I didn't get into huge trouble...Not really at least. I mean, it was always enough that Bradon would yell at me and possibly ground me. But nothing over the top like driving a car off a bridge or anything.
Of course, when the little bits of trouble wasn't enough to fuel my need to cause some havoc, that's exactly what I did. We'd just gotten off work that night, and I could remember walking past the car several times previously. It was a nice Dodge Viper. Most of the time, it was unlocked. Curiosity wasn't enough for me. Getting into the car was easy enough. Hotwiring, although not as easily accomplished, was still achievable. Vaguely, I remember hearing Georgette yelling at me. She may as well have been calling me every appropriate name under the sun, because she was furious. At one point though, and I think it was stupidity on her own part, she got into the passenger side of the car. I know she was trying to stop me from doing anything stupid, but it was still foolish of her to get into the car and not expect me to suddenly drive off. And I did. We drove for a while, with Georgette clinging to the door and yelling at me. I wasn't listening though. The adrenline was strong enough to choke on. We kept going, at least a little bit further. I was trying to talk myself into going back. All I'd really intended was to drive around for a while. But, seeing that bridge nearby above the Mississippi River? It was practically calling my name.
Needless to say, I drove over the bridge. Georgette was stupid enough to not have gotten out of the car after I counted down. That was her fault. All the same, it scared me something fierce when I looked up and she was nowhere near. Even calling out to her, I got no answer in response. And for a good five minutes, I stood at the edge of the bridge, with only one thought passing through my mind, 'I just killed Georgette.' I didn't know how I would explain that to anyone. And I was thankful I didn't have to, because she resurfaced after my freak out. Though, when she finally did resurface, sirens were heard. Somehow someone had called it in already. Fantastic.
Four and a half hours we were in jail, being interrogated and held in silver handcuffs...I still have a small mark on the inside of my left wrist from it. Finally, Dorian bailed us out. As if that wasn't irony. After everything we'd done, with his car sitting down in the bottom of the Mississippi River and he was posting our bail? I didn't complain. As expected, Dorian wasn't very happy with us. Not that I expected him to be. Bradon on the other hand...His reaction surprised me like nothing else. He didn't say a word. Of course, he was waiting for us, but when we pulled up a little after midnight and got out of Cris' SUV, all Bradon did was turned and went back to his office, locking himself inside. That was fine by me though. It was better then having to hear him screaming at us for it. Though, I doubted we'd get off that easily.
My next stunt? Well the next one wasn't the brightest in the books. I will be the first to say that, though again, I probably would never admit that to anyone else. The next stunt, Georgette had nothing to do with. I told her to go ahead of me and that I would meet her back at the pride house. Her only response had been "don't drive off a bridge, dweeb." other than that she didn't pay much notice and left without me. Of course, her words echoed in my head, and even made me chcukle softly. Still, she left me, and that was never one of her brightest ideas. Turning back, I found a 2010 GTA Spano in the parking lot. I knew it wasn't Dorian's, nor did I think it belonged to anyone else working at Eternity. So, I took it. Again, the hotwiring wasn't too horrible. Not like most cars at least. The car revved up and I could remember speeding down the familiar streets from a few weeks earlier. The same bridge came into view, but I sped a little past where we initally broke the guardrail. As luck would have had it, the first time, the car managed to land in shallow water. This time though, I drove for a few seconds longer before finding a new spot. One I was sure would lead into the deep water. Again, I counted down, but instead of jumping out at the last second, I didn't do anything. The car drove over the bridge with me still in it. Like I said, not my brightest one.
I don't remember much of what happened next. I do remmeber Dorian jumping in after me. But after that, I sort of drifted in and out of consciousness. All I really wanted was to sleep. Isn't that all anyone would want after driving over a bridge? Well, I got that sleep, plus a week away from Georgette and everyone else. How I'd landed in some loony bin, I wasn't sure. All I knew was that it would be a matter of playing the system. Offer smiles here and there, participate in group, everything of that sort. Needless to say I was out in a week. Given Prozac, yes...Not like I've taken it. It's still sitting in my room back at Bradon's house...
So, of course that was my screw up. Doens't help that I can't get a moment of peace without someone mentioning it now, but I suppose that's a price to pay for it. Otherwise, things were returning to normal again. Unless you still counted the fact that Bradon and Maddox were still pissed beyond belief. That was one problem though. There wasn't much I could do to cure their problems.
The only thing that didn't seem to improve since I returned was Georgette and I's bickering. If anything it seemed to have tenfolded. I don't know why though. Probably just some woman thing. But the bickering didn't stop. It got worse one day, which led into a physical fight between the tow of us. I still have at least one mark from her, but that one's slightly difficult to explain. And there's the one on my right hand from where she stabbed the knife through my hand and into the floor. Her words still echo in my head, "I came, I saw, I failed." and it still gives me shivers...And makes me despise her even, but that can't be helped. Of course through all of that, we ended up talking to Dorian later that night...And finally, having promised up and down to Georgette earlier that day that I wouldn't, I ended up blaming the whole thing on her. Seemed like a very believable story at least. She got pissed, but I don't think that it helped when I chose to stay at the Fun House for a while. In fact, I'm certain that didn't improve matters. All I knew is she was beyond livid by the end of the night. She left in a huff, slamming the door behind her, and I wouldn't know until later on that her main reason for being upset had been that in her terms 'I backstabbed her' which pretty much dropped any trust that she had for me. Of course, it didn't help that there was also that she'd nearly gave up on talking ot me. Thankfully, that was short lived.
We still talk, and it's only been about a week or so since I left Bradon's estate..
Of course, Dorian's helping me. I don't know why I need the help, but the alternative of staying there wasn't much of a better option for me at the time. It's still not really. Dorian was my only other alternative to staying with Bradon, Maddox, and Georgette. All of who are pissed at me for something or other. Just my luck I suppose. But, it's not bad at the Fun House either. Unless you count being surrounded by the other monsters and worrying that one night you might find a vampire ripping your head off. Otherwise, it's more so peaceful than back there. Either way though, I don't know where this leaves me. I'm still trying to figure some stuff out, while all the while avoiding Dorian's burst of anger - and he thinks I have the anger issues? - Once I know for sure what my next step is, maybe I'll come back with an update. Of course, that might not be in this century, so don't waste your breath.
I've said it once, and I'll say it again: I'm skirting on a fine line. A line that will eventually be the death of me, or so I've been told.
