Stories to Let Sink in a Bottle Full of Blood

“Wow, fresh." Malena said.

“Yeah” answered Marcel, “It’s from last night.”

Malena expertly tore off an ear and brought it to her mouth. Marcel was already accustomed to it so, no matter how expert the movement, it wasn't a feat.

“So, that's how things are. There was quite a racket here last night. I managed to salvage this big one”, Marcel said

“Good.”

“Yeah, but you're not going to eat it all, I guess.”

“No. Well, tell me about something else. How's your family?”

“Not good, actually. They caught my cousin stealing again.”

“And? Is he getting away with it?”

“No, it seems like he's staying in this time.”

“Uh, that sucks. Do you want me to do something?”

“Like what?”  Marcel asked.

“I don't know, get him out.”

“No, don't bother. He's a lost cause.”

Malena continued eating. After the ear, she smoothly moved on to the tongue just as before. Marcel knew it was her favorite part, so he let her eat in silence.

Then, Malena started carving out the cheeks, the little meat left around the temples.

Marcel had to ask:

“Why the head?”

“What?”

“Why the head. Why not an arm or a leg, which have more meat?” 

Malena looked puzzled for a moment. Then she reacted.

“Oh, I don't know, I just like the head”.

“Is not too much game”

“Don’t worry, I have enough”.

Marcel glanced at Malena's stomach and couldn't help but say:

“You're a bit thin”.

“Again, don’t worry. I’m fine”.

Malena went for the eyes.

The eyes were the only part that disgusted Marcel a bit. He looked away.

“Sorry”, Malena said, “but they're really delicious.”

Marcel looked back. He couldn't help but pay a little extra attention to the partially devoured head. The torn cheekbones, the empty sockets, and the bone that was already timidly showing.

But Malena would stop before reaching it.

He thought again about what he had asked before. And the truth was that one head had to be enough.

He changed the subject.

“I'm going blind” announced.

“What?”, asked Malena 

“I see less every day.”

“But did they tell you anything? Have you seen a doctor?”

“Not yet”, Marcel said.

“Well”, Malena didn’t know what else to add.

They kept talking about trivial matters until they she was full. Finally, she took a bottle out of her bag and drank copiously. It wasn't water.

“Well, let's watch TV and then go to bed”, she said afterwards

“Are you staying?”, Marcel asked

“Unless you have plans.”

“You know I don't.”

Malena got up and started walking to the living room.

Marcel passed him by. He stayed bugged fow a while, looking at the stripped and now abandoned head.

“Are you coming?”, Malena’s voice reached him from the living room.

They arrived home and locked the door. Outside, the snow was about to start falling again.

"It hurts a lot," Victoria said, taking off her coat and throwing it onto the table.

"Sucks to be you, dumbass. I told you to run. You're always too slow."

"Yeah, I know, I'm slow. What do you want me to do?" Victoria replied as she took off her shirt and brought a candle closer to the wound.

"It’ll close soon."

"It’s not silver, is it?"

"Of course not! You think they know anything? It’ll be fine in half an hour."

Victoria stared at the wound under the candlelight.

"If you keep looking at it, it won’t heal any faster," Aldana said, shrugging it off as she took off her coat.

"Okay, okay, no need to mock me so much."

Aldana didn’t answer. She just threw herself onto the couch and sighed in exhaustion.

"Damn, what a massacre."

"We killed a lot of boys."

"Yeah. Tomorrow they would’ve been men. The day after, wives. It doesn’t matter, Victoria. You already know that."

"Yeah, I know," Victoria said.

She finally stopped staring at herself, winced as she removed her shirt, and limped toward the bathroom. She turned on the shower faucet.

"Aren’t you going to bathe?" she asked Aldana.

"Not right now."

"You could…"

"No, Victoria. You can bathe alone. You’re not going to die from a bullet wound."

Victoria fell silent, finished undressing, and almost stumbled—because the wound really did hurt—before stepping under the hot water. Blood started flowing down her body in crimson streams.

She closed her eyes, and an atom of light spread through her brain, forming strange figures behind her eyelids.

Her body kept functioning, still clinging to life. She had not yet become a specter. But there was thirst, the eternal thirst for human blood, the need to kill, the extra abilities she still couldn’t control.

Something had happened to this human body. Something terrible and yet magnificent. She had lost, but at the same time, she had won. And she had to admit to herself that she didn’t despise what she had gained.

She finished bathing and turned off the faucet, the water thinning to a trickle. She put on a robe and walked to the bedroom. On the way, she saw that Aldana had fallen asleep on the couch.

She lay down on the clean bed, pulled the blanket over her, and sank into a dreamless darkness.

They didn’t think twice. They opened fire. —Run, you idiot, run! The other one was already jumping through the window. Bullets rained down on the neighbor’s roof. The gunfire remained behind them. —Don’t let them escape! —a voice shouted. But they escaped anyway.

Ω

—That bastard shot me. Victoria took off her coat and unbuttoned her shirt. —Just my fucking luck. —Don’t whine. Wait, which blood is yours? —That one. The other one’s the kid’s. —Ah, it’s already healing. —Yeah, but it still hurts like hell. I’ve got a bullet inside me. —Hold on. —Aldana said, shoving her hand into the wound.

Victoria started screaming, but Aldana ignored her. She searched beneath the flesh while the other girl wailed, until she found what she was looking for: a metallic texture in a sea of throbbing meat. She yanked it out without hesitation, and Victoria collapsed to the floor.

—All done. —Aldana said, looking at the pellet.

Victoria gasped for air on the ground. —It’s better this way. If it closes up, you’re screwed. —Aldana explained. —You could’ve waited until we got home. —Victoria suggested once she could breathe again. —Can you stand? —Aldana ignored her. —Your screaming will bring them here. —Wait… —Victoria pleaded. —No. —Aldana cut her off. —We’re leaving.

Aldana grabbed her hands and pulled her up. Then, she kept dragging her forward.

In the dining room, there was no space for anything else. The table took up too much room. The library overflowed with forgotten books. The dust seemed to make them larger. George let his gaze wander over the worn-out furniture, the cracked walls, and finally settled on Patricia’s pale face. “Well?” she said. “You should be able to see it. You should already know that waiting for an answer is useless. What do you expect me to say?” “‘I’ll go,’ ‘Take me there,’ something like that. That’s what I want to hear from your lips.” George let out a rough, bitter laugh. “There’s nothing in the world that could make me say that. You lied to me. And then you left, just like that. My only regret is having been a fool.” “You tried to kill me. Me and your daughter.” “That thing is not my daughter.” “She is, just as much as I was your wife,” Patricia said. A glimmer began to appear in her eyes. George swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably. “I want nothing to do with this,” he spat, disgusted. “But you’ll know anyway. I’ve been watching how you live.” This time, it was Patricia who let her eyes wander around the room. “Your life is wasting away between these walls. Your very essence.” “My essence is just fine where it is, thank you. Safe from you.” “I never touched you,” Patricia protested. “And you betrayed me. Yes, I lied, but it was necessary. With time, we could’ve been happy. We still can be.” A heavy silence fell between them, almost palpable. “No,” was all George said. Patricia turned away. “I’ll be back.” “It’ll be useless, and next time, maybe we won’t talk,” George said, lacing his words with a hint of threat. Patricia stared at him, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. “Keep your stakes ready,” she said, looking away and regaining her composure. “They won’t do you any good. And I will make sure my daughter sees her father.” She headed for the door.

"Noelia! Noelia!" "What, mother?" "Your first death letter has arrived." "Great!" "Let's see who you got." "The Em... the Empe... Emperor Wenceslas. Oh, that’s impossible! How are we supposed to kill the emperor? What about the collapse? The imbalance it would cause?" "I don’t know, mom, but I guess I’ll have to kill him."

Despite Ursula’s concerns about her daughter's assignment, like any mother, she spent the whole afternoon fantasizing about it.

A thousand ways to kill the emperor came to her mind. Of course, most were just rough ideas. The real plans, the actual method, would come as thoughts unfolded.

That night, she found them lying on the bed, face down, staring at the moon with their legs bent like schoolgirls, recalling and imagining different ways to kill.

"Disembowelment!" Noelia exclaimed excitedly. "Too messy," her mother replied. "Hanging? I'm small. If I can sneak in, I can climb somewhere." "Maybe it doesn’t have to be inside. Perhaps, when he's outside on a walk or visiting, you could slip into the crowd and strike from there." "No, ma. I have to get inside. And you know what needs to be done." "I’m not selling you." "You're not selling me. We fake a sale. Sold by a poor family." "We are not poor," Ursula said, chuckling. "Well," Noelia said, "Auntie can sell me. She’s poor. Why did you leave her poor, mom?" "Auntie was always an idiot. She should be grateful I didn’t leave her in a worse state," Ursula smirked. "So, she can sell me then?" "Yes. I'll convince her."