Another Try

[Jesse Fforde]

Because I will try anything. Everything. Maybe if I keep a record, maybe it will help.

Maybe someone'll find it after I die and then they can understand. Or maybe they'll think it's all just ********.

It's been three months and one week, and I can feel the darkness creeping up on me.

It's hard, when no one listens. And when I can't punish them because it'll only push them away. And I need them.

I hate that I need them. Because maybe they were right - I give. I give everything. And when I stop giving, I get complaints. I get no respect. Or I get nothing - they just disappear, without a word. I have done what they wanted. I haven't sired. I've tried to keep in touch. It's a two way street, in the end.

I feel like I'm walking through fog. And I know the edge of the cliff is somewhere there, up ahead. Still a while away. But I can't stop walking. And I'm just waiting to fall over the edge.

[Jesse Fforde]

The fog comes and goes.

Closer to four months now, than three.

I considered it. Ursula was talking about her brother. A fourteen-year-old, for ****'s sake. And I considered it. A boy whose voice wouldn't have broken yet. Boys develop later than girls, they say. He definitely is still a child, and I thought about it. The possibility of turning him. I wanted to, for those few moments, until reason kicked in.

I'm not going to turn a ******* fourteen-year-old.

Felicity has come back, or so she says. I'm happy to have her around, even if it's only fleeting. I didn't tell her everything that she's missed. I know she wants to know what I'm thinking, and what I'm going through, but I'm not going to tell her. I'm not going to give her reason to feel guilty if she has to leave again. I'm not going to tell her that if she does, I might not be here when she comes back.

Cosette has been around, too. Ursula is being more vocal, obviously. When they come around, the fog thins. When they leave, it gets thicker. I need to stop being so ******* angry all the time.

I thought Clover had left the city. She wasn't returning my texts. But she's home again. Maybe she was home the entire time. I should have gone over. I should have just knocked on the ******* door. But I was giving her the space I assumed she wanted. Now I kind of wish I hadn't. Maybe it would have changed nothing either way.

I talked to Esperanza, too. The decisions I make in future will affect her, indirectly. I needed to talk to her because I thought it would help me make the decisions I need to make. But I think I've already made them. I made them as soon as I failed to act. It just took me a while to realise it. I've changed. Things change. Priorities shift. I can't have two main priorities, especially when they conflict.

I think I know how to proceed.

I need to talk to Rhett.

[Jesse Fforde]

I talked to Esperanza.

Thankfully she seems more worried about the fact that Kaelyn has a boyfriend when she doesn't. Though she wasn't really very forthcoming with her feelings, otherwise.

I think I know what my stipulations are going to be. It's going to be rough. Maybe. Maybe it won't be. I have to talk to Victor and get him on board before I continue. He probably won't be happy. Maybe he'll continue to not leave the house. But how's that any different to things as they are now? Still.

Six more days and I've reached four months. Someone should design me a ******* token. Something to work toward. Maybe I'll make one of my own. The moods come and go. When I start to feel sorry for myself I force myself to think about something else. To tell myself it's all in my head.

Don't be a ******* pussy, Jesse Fforde. Just get on with it.

[Jesse Fforde]

Four months.

I'm not sure how much longer I can last - but the longer I go, the more I feel like I have achieved something. Which kind of helps. But kind of doesn't.

I'm waiting for that text or a phonecall from those that used to care. But maybe they wouldn't call or text - maybe they'd just come and put me down without looking back. But by resisting one urge I'm giving in to the rest of them.

I drain so many humans that I feel like I could throw up. But I can't stop. I get shot by the cops - they know who I am. Do they have any idea the amount of death that I am responsible for?

I started a bonfire in the middle of Thornside park the other night. No one seemed to notice, or care. I was tempted to burn the whole ******* suburb down. Sometimes I wonder if it's what I want, or whether it's Mandy getting into my head. The Salamander is constantly with me, these days. He's with me right now. I'm throwing things in the fire to keep him happy. Clothes. Books. Old sketches. I have too much crap. Maybe I'll burn it all.

Rhett still isn't back.

There was supposed to be a Halloween party, but Kaelyn postponed it. Several times. I want to be optimistic, for her sake. But we'll see how it goes.

[Jesse Fforde]

Mickey is dead.

Not coming back dead.

That’s all I was going to say. But then I remembered why I’m keeping this thing. Why I’m writing things down. It’s not just a record of events. It’s a record of me.

Clover tried to tell me it wasn’t my fault. They tried to tell me that whether they lived or died was their own choice, and I had no right to take that away from them. But I took that right away from them when I killed them. I killed them without asking, and I keep saying it, don’t I? They didn’t ask to be here. They didn’t ask for any of it.

That’s assuming it was Mickey’s choice. I don’t know what happened to him. I don’t know why, or how. I have to tell myself not to think about it. Clover might be right. It might not have been my fault. Technically. But Mickey didn’t want to be a vampire. But I did it to him anyway. If I hadn’t? He’d probably still be alive.

I keep asking myself why I care. I kill people nightly. Several people nightly. Why do I care?

Ursula and Kaelyn nearly got the whole show tonight. I think Ursula might have let me slaughter the whole city if she thought it would help. I tried to get away, I tried to get them to leave me alone. But they didn’t. Not until later. They tried to stop me. They managed to stop me from getting them involved.

I’m sitting in the basement of an abandoned house. It might be the same one where I met Ishaq. I can’t go home. I can’t trust that I wasn’t seen – that I don’t have tails.

The night started off so well, too. I just wanted to see them. To be with them. But then Mickey. And then I opened my ******* mouth when I shouldn’t have. I got angry. Again. It was like a domino effect. Like I infected them all with it.

And then there was the blood and I had to go. It’s the first time, tonight, that I realised I’ve lost control.

It wasn’t about me. It shouldn’t have been. But they followed me. I have to remember that.

Clover didn’t, though. I texted her. I haven’t heard back. The one person who … I think might know what

It doesn’t matter.

Mickey's dead. I don't know how to mourn him.

[Jesse Fforde]

I said some things that I felt guilty about. I got jealous when I shouldn’t have. I got angry about something that shouldn’t have even mattered.

I felt like I was cheating when I didn’t do anything.

Autumn is more than halfway gone and she’s still just my fiancé. With no plans to change it. I thought I’d leave it up to her – she didn’t like it when I kept bringing it up.

Maybe it’s for the best.

Maybe I expect too much.

But I don’t think so. I know that I wouldn’t do it. I wouldn’t just sit back and watch her self-destruct without trying to do something about it. Did she not recognise the symptoms? Is she trying to punish me because I didn’t tell her that I needed her? Needed someone?

But maybe I was wrong in that, too. Maybe I shouldn’t have pushed her to fix her problems before she was ready. Maybe I broke everything and it is my fault, and I expect too much. But I don’t expect her to fix me. But is it too much to expect a little more than her just sitting at home and waiting for me to come to her, damaged and already broken?

This is my fault because I didn’t say anything. I didn’t warn her that I could lose control. I didn’t stop while I was in a frenzy to text her and tell her what was going on. The point is worthless. She said she knew. She knew something was wrong. Why do I have to stop and tell her when she already knew?

It doesn’t matter. I’m not leaving this room. They all have their instructions – the ones who have paid attention, anyway. Basic instructions. I don’t know how long it will last.

All I know is that the other night was a glitch. An overreaction to bad news. Things are only going to go downhill from here.

But I have more people on my side, this time. I can do this. I will do this. Even if it ******* kills me.

[Jesse Fforde]

I don't know what I'm doing.

My head is a mess and so is my heart. I don't know what's wrong anymore. I don't know what's right. But I keep thinking - did I ever care? Once upon a time I didn't give a **** about morality. Did I? And there, I just made myself laugh.

No. I am not a moral person. I kill on a whim because it makes me feel better. I sometimes feel like I'm burning from the inside out, and one day I'll explode. And I'll take the whole city with me. But since then I've discovered that there's such a thing as care. Is it because of my addiction? My obsession? I feel so right when I am with my family. I don't know how to explain it. I'm better with paint than I am with words. I'm all mixed up. I can't focus on any one thing to figure it out. I can't fix anything.

I know I should talk to Grey. But every time I pick up the phone, all I can see is the last conversation we had. Even if it wasn't me, in the end. It was all true. And Grey just walked away. She ******* walked away. She made out like I was divided, like I struggled because I had to look after the family, and her as well. As if she herself weren't a part of that family. As if she herself could never dream of actually helping me.

I keep re-reading it. Over and over. I can't stand it. The way she twisted it. Was she waiting for me to get down on my knees and tell her, again, about all the things she's not? Maybe it is partly my fault for not ... but no. She said she knew. She knew there was something wrong. But there's no point getting into that. There's no point. Regardless of where the fault might lie, she still walked away and I'm not going to chase her. I need my family and if she doesn't consider herself a part of it, what can I do about that?

I do lay awake worrying about her. Will she feed herself? Will she take care of herself? Will she disappear, like smoke in the wind? I told her it was best she didn't come and see me because I was afraid of what I might do. And she didn't fight me. I didn't fight myself.

I don't regret anything that I've done. I hope that when all is said and done, that I remain. When the storm is over and the dust is cleared - if I'm still alive to feel much of anything - I hope that I haven't acted out of a desperate need for company and comfort. I am a selfish ******* ********. I have always been a selfish ******* ********. But I hope this isn't a result of my own insecurities and ineptitude. I may as well kill myself now if I have taken advantage of a woman who sincerely cares. Who has given so much to keep me afloat.

I'll have failed her if I fail to get through this. But if I fail it won't matter either way.

[Jesse Fforde]

Gresse's.

Such a stupid ******* name anyway, right? Every reason I had for putting that place together is now fucked. Moot. Gone. Who gives a ****. Every hope that I had for it died before it was even born.

Now it's ashes. And I enjoyed watching it burn.

[Jesse Fforde]

I have another couple of adjectives to add to my list.

Not only am I weak and pathetic, but I am stubborn, a pain-in-the-***, and I'm selfish. The last one we knew already. But apparently I make it so the whole world has to revolve around me. It's all some kind of game I'm playing, see, and everyone's sick of it.

Now they want to start a schedule. A ******* schedule. Obligatory spend-time-with-Jesse time. Not because they want to but because they have to.

They should just lock me up in a room. Tie me to a bed. No wait! That last one was suggested. Brilliant idea. Then they can do what they want and they don't have to worry about me. That'd be far preferable. I don't want to be the selfish **** that everyone's forced to spend time with. I don't want to be that guy. I've brought it on myself though, haven't I? I should have kept my ******* mouth shut. As per usual.

[Jesse Fforde]

Maybe I should have laid down the rules a little more harshly.

IE: No matter how violent or upset I am, DO NOT let me leave the ******* lair.

Maybe it's a stupid ******* rule anyway. I don't know. Three dead bodies isn't too many when compared to past incidents, and I'm alive. Unharmed. Kaelyn walked away in a huff because she wanted people to have fun and thought she'd failed. I told her I wanted some alone time. A few hours, just for me. But I just needed to get away. Who am I kidding? I've never been the kind of person who wants to sit around at home doing nothing all the time, but I've put myself under house arrest. Was I ******* stupid?

There was Victor, talking about how bored he was. There was Kaelyn, talking about how she'd cancelled a trip, a holiday that she had planned but had given up on because of me. I want to feel flattered but I just feel ******* guilty. And Clover, always tapping away on her phone like she'd prefer to be somewhere else. She left to find Paige, who never showed up. I haven't heard from Rhett - he said he'd try come back a few days early, but maybe he couldn't manage it.

I went to the sewers. I have a place there - where I used to keep the hydroponics. No one knows about it. It's not secret on purpose, I just didn't think anyone would care. No one else needs it. I figured I'd go there. I'd disappear. I'd get out of everyone's hair and they can go about their lives - they don't want to be hanging around keeping company with a ******* Debbie Downer. I wasn't kidding. I wanted to rip out his ******* tongue and slice off his fingers because I'm sick of it. I'm so ******* sick of it.

I was going to do as Rhett said. I was going to chain myself up in that sewer dwelling and throw the key down the drain. Except - Clover.

Maybe my communication skills suck. I wanted her to summon me to get me out, away from Kaelyn and Victor. When she didn't, when I was stuck there, when she started texting about something else, I assumed she was over it, too. Sick of being around me. Isn't that what Victor said? He referred to the family, when he said he was over it. Over the game, as I'm acting the way I am on purpose. As if it's something I can just flick off with a switch. The things that he said? It was like talking to Velveteen and Micah all over again, the last time. Being called weak and pathetic. The words keep replaying in my head and I can't stop them.

He wanted to take me for a ride. Out to the edge of the city.

When Clover did finally summon me, she told me she was terrified. She told me she hadn't summoned me because Victor had told her she was smothering me. All along, I didn't want to be alone. I wanted to be alone with Clover. Ever since the night of the party, we haven't had a chance to be alone together. There was always someone else around. I wanted it to be just Clover and me.

I told her I wanted to build a bonfire because I wanted to walk into it.

I told her I wished I'd kept my mouth shut so Kaelyn and Victor would fall asleep - I'd have dragged them inside and gone back out, to lay there and wait for the sun to come up. Every day I'm thinking of new and glorious ways to harm myself, though none are drastic enough for death. She has a reason to be terrified. She is not smothering me. She is not being dramatic.

I should stay cooped up. For my own safety. But I also need the fresh air. It's a Catch 22. I guess she's it. She's the only one who's stuck around this far - I haven't managed to push her away. Yet. I dread the day that I do. I dread the day that she loses sight of who I once was, and gives up on me like all the rest.