60. The Frail Girl

Alisa - Her apartment
“Laura, where are you going?” I shout right when the door slams shut behind her.
Why would she answer me? I let out a mocking sigh and flung back onto the couch. The cigarette rolls over the table until it stops next to the blood bag.
Raising my head, I stare into the broken TV screen. My face has cracks all over the place. How did I end up here?
Yeah, right, that pesky book. When I was little, I read an old book that turned my perceptions upside down.
It was about vampires. Funny, right? Never thought back then that I would end up as a strigoi.
The book showed me a glimpse of darkness I could never picture otherwise. My heart broke at the sublime loneliness one can feel, shunned by society. The two options were to live alone and forgotten, hiding from sight, or be hunted down and killed just for existing.
I’ve never felt such pity for a being. Growing up, I thought it was all just a story. And then I met Laura. The perfect incarnation of loneliness.
Maybe that's why I care so much about Laura and want to be by her side. Smirking, I pour myself a glass of blood.
I thought I understood vampires, but now I know better. What I saw in the pages of that book wasn't just a bunch of words and sentences—it was real. I've always been bad at reading people.
I couldn't have experienced it first-hand until I crossed the boundary on this side. How else can one assist someone she does not understand? The solution is simple. Put yourself in their shoes.
Haha! My sorrowful laughter reverberates around the room, sounding both empty and sad. But I am not Laura. I can't wallow in self-pity or revel in loneliness.
My body is dead. My heart isn't beating. But this doesn't mean I can't be myself and have fun.
As a strigoi, you have no choice but to hide your true nature. But what if being a strigoi means embracing the darkness instead of fighting it?
I gulp down the liquid and take off. It’s too early for clubs, but not too early for pubs.
The Black Sparrow is close enough, and my mind directs my feet there automatically. A small bar where the smell of various beverages wafts through the air. I’m already a well-known patron in this hell-hole.
The bartender nods as I enter and changes the music to suit my tastes before giving me a whiskey on the rocks.
I take a sip and gaze at the crowd. The usual faces are gathered here. There's Ioana, who flirts with every male around her like it's her mission in life; Laurentiu, the biggest nerd ever, but he's a good guy; Dragos, the only person who doesn't speak Romanian and prefers English; and Tudor, who's a good guy too, but he's too loud for my taste.
I laugh and flirt with several guys around. Some I know from my other visits here, while others are newcomers. Words fly around, losing meaning and getting into my ears without ever reaching my mind.
“Hey, you wanna give it a try?”
“Let her be. Don’t you see how frail the girl is?”
For some reason, the words got to my brain this time. My head jerks and my eyes meet those of a muscle man sitting across from me.
As I realign myself back with reality, I understand what this is all about. I was blankly staring at two guys who were arm wrestling at a table. When they spotted me, they decided to mess with the ‘frail girl.’
Many consider me like this since my skin is pale white, my hair is black, and I have no curves whatsoever.
Grabbing a chair, I push it with the backrest against their table and saddle over the wooden seat with my elbow on the table, fingers raised.
“I’m game. Who wants to try this frail girl?”
Wide-eyed, the two guys, who I call from now on ShowOff 1 and ShowOff 2, stare at me and then exchange glances.
ShowOff 1 smirks at me and winks, preparing his right arm. “Let’s see what you can do, little girl.”
Any woman would seem tiny in comparison to these musclemen. Like building up tons of fibers would ever give you extra neurons.
I hold my hand out to him, and he takes it. At first, our palms brush against one other as our hands lock lightly. His grasp tightens in an attempt to unsettle me.
I return the smirk. “Bring it on, tough guy.”
"You think you've got something on me? You have no idea who you're dealing with. I'm the strongest here." He grunts and clenches his teeth.
ShowOff 1’s muscles bulge, but my hand doesn’t budge. The veins on his arm are swollen, almost bursting out because of the strain.
I’m putting zero effort as I watch his face disfiguring. So this is how one looks like when they try their hardest with no chances of success.
As soon as I get tired of the picture in front of me, I push a bit and press the back of his hand against the table. Of course, with the greatest care to not rip his arm off.
I turn toward ShowOff 2 with a bright smile on my face. “Do you want to try me too?”
He shakes his head and jumps off his seat, helping his friend out the door to avoid the embarrassment.
I chuckle dryly. It feels weird; it’s like my favorite toys decided to grow legs and bail on me. For the first time in a long while, I feel good about being a strigoi again.
When I initially learned about Dan's deceased mate, I felt horrible for a split second. Soon after, a foul, bitter taste invaded my mouth, and horrifying thoughts started to haunt me.
Is he clinging to me because he knows I won't die on him so easily? I mean, I'm a formidable strigoi. I'm not afraid to brag. But how would I ever be able to replace his fated mate?
Besides, I was never looking to go steady. I love it when it’s all fun and games. Somehow, I end up mad at myself every time I think about Dan. I should have grown bored of him by now. But I somehow end up falling for him anew, time after time.
Apparently, I can get greedy and jealous too. All those ugly emotions that come with affection. And it's even worse when my envy is directed toward a deceased person.
It's as if Dan and I are the protagonists in one of those mediocre romance novels that Laura forced me to read. It's clear how these stories end. I'm not interested in finishing this one. But I can't put the book down.
I burst into laughter, and everyone around me stares at the crazy, frail girl. We—Laura and I—are hilarious. Who would have guessed that strigois were thirsty for love rather than blood? Oh, right, me. I knew this since the moment I’d read that book about vampires. And yet, I still had to learn the hard way.
Ugh! I need a new toy to take my mind off these things. Therefore, I shout, “Who wants to try me at arm wrestling? I’m barely warming up.”
“I do.”
The familiar voice comes from behind me, and I lean down my head, pressing my forehead onto the table. It’s Dan. Fuck!