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eight-ball of coke,
but vampire venom? That was a little more tricky.
    He knew a place where he could get a fix,
though...
    He was perched on the edge of his bed,
rubbing his upper arms, a chill coursing through him as the venom hunger bit
once more. He rocked back and forth, his mind urging him to make the trip. Go
back across town to that basement. Knock on the door, say sorry you messed up,
you won’t do it again, just calm that itch...
    It would be easy. Hey, if he said it nice
enough, the father might even give him a double dose. His eyes rolled to the
ceiling. That would be nice... He’d have to apologize to the guy he
cracked a bottle over too. Hopefully, he didn’t hold grudges...
    He wiped his lips with the back of his
hand. He knew it was a bad idea. He’d managed by some stroke of good fortune to
get the hell outta there, and now he was contemplating going back? Was he crazy?
The cold truth was that he had nothing to get the hell outta there for. Dad and
Eddie were gone, nowhere to be found. Not a trace and he had no idea where to
find them. He had no cash, no job to go back to, and an irate landlord
demanding payment or it was cardboard city time. Maybe that basement was all he
had, maybe that was why he ended up there in the first place. The only refuge
for a loser like him. At least there he had a permanent home, a purpose, a
function. At least there was someone there who loved him. The Father. And at
least Dom loved him back. Well, the venom part at least. The venom destroyed
all the negative crap in his life, blotted over it like a kid with a crayon. He
didn’t know how long he could last living with the itch and nothing else going
on in his life.
    He flopped back on his bed and sighed,
rubbing his hot eyes. All the while, that itch was gnawing away at him. Go
back there. Just go back, there’s nothing for you here. The Father needs you.
He wants you. He loves you. Just go and wash the pain away, take the itch away.
Go back to where you were happy. Go back. Go back. Go back...
    And never leave.
    Dom’s eyes snapped open to a gloomy room.
He shot up to his feet and marched to the front door.
     
    *****
     
    Nightfall descended by the time he
reached the basement.
    The whole journey he felt like a junkie
gagging for a fix. The edginess, the anxiety had engulfed him and he was biting
his nails, his eyes darting everywhere, taking in everything. He walked with a
purpose, his stride rapid and unflinching. It was the journey he’d made the
night he escaped but in reverse. Anticipation had been rising in his stomach
from the moment he left the apartment block. It had grown and blossomed the
closer he got to that basement. Entwined with it was a depressing resignation.
A sense of failure; he’d managed to break his binds, now his situation was so
desperate, he was willing to run and have them tied back on. He watched Chicago
pass by with heavy eyes.
    At least I won’t have to worry about
anything...
    I got nothing to live for anyways...
    The bus dropped him off at Oakland, just as
a shower of rain began pounding the surrounding concrete. He trotted off down
the streets, hoping the Father wouldn’t be too angry with him. The degradation
greeted him like a brother; like Eddie would have if he could’ve found him.
    No such luck, buddy. Eddie’s probably as
dead as you by now.
    He turned onto Matheson, knowing that was
the street where the basement was. He passed by derelict homes, boarded up
windows, trash covered sidewalk. He stepped through it all, what was once a
thriving hub of life, now a dead zone of destitute poverty.
    Man, what happened to this city?
    I don’t care anymore. Not my problem.
It’s all over for me.
    He stopped dead, and keeping his head
bowed, took in a deep breath of dirty air.
    He was home. His real home. He slowly
turned his head to the side, to be greeted by the building that stood atop the
basement. His basement. His home...
    He stepped up to the railings and took hold
of them;