Turnling

 

This night seemed like any other night. I left my flat at 2 pm sharp, headed to the bookstore, where I unlocked and opened the front door, as I had done millions of times before. Mechanically, I put up the “Estamos abertos” sign and opened the blinds. By 3 pm I had everything ready to open shop. At 8 it would be time to close, but of course, for me that only meant I would be staying around to read for a while before heading home.

 

At four pm, when the flow of costumers had already stopped, I suddenly noticed a man entering the shop. He didn’t seem very remarkable to me and I continued instead to store the new arrivals into their proper shelves, making a mental note to read a particular title that had caught my eye later, once it was time to close.

Once done with my task, I turned around, only to suddenly come face to face with another man’s chest, the buttons of his white button up shirt popping up at me, framed by the edges of his black blazer. I couldn’t help but mutter “Peço desculpa...” to the man, distracted. I looked up to face the man, he wasn’t moving from my path, and stared straight into dark sunglasses. THis striked me as extremely odd: the store wasn’t exactly brightly lit.

 

“Posso ajudar?” I ventured, cringing inwardly at how heavily accented my Portuguese still sounded. Almost at the same time I stepped back, becoming uncomfortable with the man’s closeness and silence. Several seconds passed where the man continued looking at me, yet I couldn’t see his eyes behind the sunglasses. That more than anything else bothered me, it felt as though he was observing my every move. Irritation crept up on me, only checked and overwhelmed by the urge to get away from this stranger’s sight.

 

“In fact...” he began, in English, probably picking up on my accent, a hand reaching up to tuck a strand of wavy black hair behind one of his ears. “You may.”

I waited for him to continue with his request, but that only served to annoy me because he didn’t. I couldn’t take it anymore and eventually frowned at him. “Well?”

Instead of answering me the odd man chuckled, furthering my irritation. I narrowed my eyes, all that I allowed myself to do, and forced myself to walk to the register. Halfway through my mouth ran of its own accord. “If you want anything, say it, otherwise, please get out!” 

 

I turned around once more to face the jerk but my eyes met only empty space where the man used to be. He was now by the fiction area, browsing the books there, apparently interested in a copy of Bram Stoker’s Dracula. Well, that wasn’t so bad, at least the creep had taste and hadn’t come to a bookstore just to stare at the clerk.

 

Still, several minutes passed before he came over to the counter and bought the same copy he had been eying. Just as I thought this episode was over and done with, the guy spoke.

 

“Do you enjoy this novel?” He held up the book at my eye level.

 

It was distressing to quickly the man went from creep to normal and back again, first hounding my personal space, then going about his business and now back to the personal stuff again. I had absolutely no desire to get to know this creep better and was getting fed up with his behavior. 

 

Still, for the sake of not pissing off Joaquim, my boss, I forced myself to croak out a diplomatic “Yes, it’s a good book.” through gritted teeth. 

The man left without saying anything more, apparently either satisfied or disappointed with my answer. 

 

“...Thank you, come again.” I called out sarcastically to his back and waited until he was well out of my sight before I left the minute safety of the counter to return to my shop-keeping.

 

The rest of my evening actually went according to plan. Late after I closing hours, I was just leaving and locking up when I heard footsteps not too far from me. They were too close for me not to have heard anyone approaching, but I chalked it up to tiredness. It was late after all.

 

Just as I was about to turn around and head home, a hand snaked from behind me into my field of vision, covering my mouth and dragging me back against a hard wall of what could only be muscle, a man’s chest it seemed. Panic began to rise in me and my eyes widened while I began to struggle against the hold on me, to no avail, the grip holding me back and keeping me silent was too strong. The hold was tight to the point of pain and my screaming was muffled by the hand. I was attempting to scream for help, but no one would hear my cries while the mother fucker dragged me backwards towards the alley two buildings down from the store, judging by the passing buildings.

 

The son of a bitch shoved me unceremoniously and roughly against the brick wall, his body pressing suddenly tight against mine, effectively keeping me pinned to the rough brick. I was certainly going to get raped just then. The bastard was much taller than me, a full head at the very least, big, muscled, contrasting desperately against my smaller, skinny frame. I had no chance of getting out of his hold, though I did my damndest, struggling and flailing out in an attemmpt to elbow him.

 

In his efforts to avoid me, the man momentarily released my moth, but no sooner than I noticed it, it was back on me again, cutting off any pleas that I might have screamed out. In the short moment that I was so distracted, my arms were somehow pinned behind my back, so fast I wasn’t even aware of how it had happened.

 

I closed my eyes and buckled against my assaulter, putting all my strength behind it in a desperate attempt to break free but the weight pinning me down didn’t even budge and a mocking chuckle reached my ears, making my cheeks flush with rage and indignation over my current situation.

 

The hand over my mouth forced my head to tilt to the right, straining my neck and exposing the left side of it to the man in front of me. I didn’t even have time to process what exactly was happening before I felt moisture, the warm touch of a tongue. I was certain now that I was going to get raped, a shiver ran down my spine, of disgust rather than arousal. 

 

Suddenly the body behind me became much more real, the man pressing tighter against me. I could feel his muscles and, fuck, other places pressing onto me. My struggling increased tenfold. I wasn’t about to let some socially deprived bastard get me, no fucking way!

 

The warmth of the tongue was suddenly replaced, a sharp pain taking its place, bringing forth a scream from me, my struggling ceasing for a second until I felt liquid warmth flowing from the painful spot. Blood. My struggling was renewed, now I was pushing and twisting wildly, ineffectually, the man pressed against me began to suck, the smell of my own blood flowing became stronger and I...

---

 

AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH the hell?! My heart was racing as I looked around, pain still fresh in my neck, looking for the alley, for the man, for the source of my terror and I saw...well...I saw my bedroom. 

 

Panting I looked around, taking in  my familiar furniture, the white walls, my clothes strewn across a vanity bench. The room was lit by sunlight. A dream. It had been but a dream. My breathing was still ragged so I closed my eyes, running a hand over my face. “Calm down Gareth...it was just a dream.” I whispered to myself, becoming suddenly aware of the fine sheen of sweat covering my body. I threw the covers aside, getting up onto my shaky legs. I felt oddly weak, as if I had run miles and my muscles couldn't go on anymore. Disturbed, I headed towards the bathroom. Maybe now was the time to stop reading vampire novels. As stupid as it had been that nightmare had me terrified. 

 

To calm myself down I splashed some cold water on my face and looked at myself in the mirror, ready to laugh the terror away, feeling much better now that I had fully awakened. My eyes widened when I took sight of my neck:  there, on the left side, were two perfectly round spots, covered in freshly clotted blood, a thin trail of dried blood seeping down towards my collarbone.