He was just like all the rest; confused, lonely, desperate…insane.

He asked if I remembered the war, if Dale had returned home with both legs and had brought Bobby with him. Dale was a hero, he told me, watching out for Bobby as though they were real brothers, blood brothers, and not just friends from way back. Bobby used to carry a picture of Marilyn Monroe in his pocket, a real sexy snapshot, and Marilyn’s white dress up past her knees, her blonde hair all aglow. He said that if he made it back, he was going to marry her. Bobby didn’t care if she was taken, or even if she didn’t want him. He knew that if he lived through the war, everything he wanted would come true; it had to.

I glanced back through the darkness of the car. He had ceased talking and was staring out the side window, into the darkness, to another time and place, far away from here.

He hadn’t even noticed I had stopped the car, until I threw open the door and tossed him out into the rain. He skidded across the chalky desert dirt a few feet away. I was on top of him before he could even ascertain his location.

He begged.

They always do.

But this time was different. I could smell the desperation and sorrow that coursed through his veins…but there was something else.

I yanked his head back by his wet, wiry hair and thrust my face into his neck, his inhaling his scent, his pulse point thumping madly against my nose. Thick beads of sweat trickled down his cheeks and behind his ear, mixing with the raindrops that soaked his skin. His heavy panting began to cease, and his head began to drop towards his chest.

I could smell it…knowledge.

My veins began to course with fire, my senses heightened to the point of arousal. A growl escaped my lips as I held him up by his brittle jacket, forcing him to meet my stare.

I asked and he gave.

‘There was a new face in town. Someone claiming to know the way out. Word on the street was he would sell it to the highest bidder. Knowledge for a price. Thing is the guy doesn’t want any money…says what he wants ain’t cash. No one knows where to find him…but everyone’s lookin’.’

The wind picked up slightly, a breeze passed over my wet hair and across my face, dragging the moisture from above, along with it.

A clammy hand grasped onto my arm, eyes pleading for me to let him go.

I set him down gently and thanked him kindly.

Then I fed.

**

The rain plummets down from above, threatening to crush anything in its path, as if trying to force me away from my destination, and back into the desert, towards the hole to hell.

My eyes meet the rearview mirror, dark and thick pools of black where instinct battles desire; a desire to reclaim what I have lost.

I might believe you if you told me that hell was thousands of miles back…that is, if I wasn’t heading straight for it.