1. Chapter 1

Settled into his little computer nook, Jason sat in the mere glow of his seventeen-inch monitor.  The world beyond was non-existent to him; only cyber space mattered. His fingers flew across the keyboard, typing commands and messages. Occasionally his right hand would glide to the mouse to select something. His text came in short bursts, separated by quick hard taps of the space button. The keyboard was rather silent. Just a little less audible than his music, which was barely loud enough to hear any where other than right in front of the computer, where he was. The sounds of Metallica echoed weakly from his desktop speakers. "And your thoughts would soon be wanderin'..." the singer belched in his low, hard, course voice. Jason thought of the song, it touched him somewhere deep.  He could hear pain and sorrow; the song added another drop to the bucket.   He then piped it enough to allow the sound to fill the room. It wouldn't be loud enough to wake anyone, even if they slept on the other side of the door. But it was nearly too loud after a near hour of almost complete silence. Jason’s thoughts were of loneliness.  His mind focused in part on the Internet conversations he was having.  But the majority was on the thought that he hadn’t even had a kiss in nearly six months.  He supposed that it was just women didn’t find him attractive, in any way.  All these negative thoughts were causing his stomach to knot.   All though he knew that all the distractions in the world wouldn’t allow his mind to leave the tracks he was on, and he knew the destination. 

He knew it would be less than an hour till he pulled out his pocketknife and began to make incisions.  By the time the sun crested the horizon Jason would be passed out on the couch, laying on his good arm, with the other one over his head.  Deep cuts would run in horizontal bands from his shoulder to his hand on the backside of his arm, and for the next few weeks he would restrict his wardrobe to long sleeved shirts.  Somehow he was able to let his bad thoughts escape with the blood he drew. 

A sudden and unexpected blast of creativity and motivation hit Jason.  These were not usual for him.  When his mind was like this, he was removed, or sullen.  But this was new, it was like his mind learned how to harness these depressing thoughts and used them to drive the wheels of his creativity instead of putting the brakes on them.  He pulled a sticky pad from beside his monitor.  Fetched a pen from across the room.  Clicking the pen open however seemed to release his thoughts and all recognition of what he was going to do was gone.  “Fuck!” he screamed aloud, before he could catch himself.  He put his hands over his mouth as if to force the word back into it, half hoping that his outburst had failed to attract any attention to his sleeping mother, who was the only other soul in the home.   He sat back down in front of the glare of his monitor.  Slightly agitated at his mind for doing such a nasty thing as that. 

His virtual being was present in four MSN conversations, and a different version of himself was apparent in a chat room run by a site called, ‘.’

            Within the MSN conversations, he was himself; nothing was done to alter his personality, looks, location, age, or any other trait that made up who he was. 

            How ever the people in the ‘Singles’ room of ‘’ knew him as ‘Soul_flair’ a deeply disturbed twenty-five-year old woman from Lethbridge Alberta.  In Chat rooms he loved to take on the persona of other people.  It was fun, like playing a part in a play.  Sometimes he would pretend that he was deeply troubled over some trivial thing.  Other times, when he was in fouler moods, he would enter a chat room looking to Cyber-rape a ‘woman’ – cyber-raping was a 21st century word, it meant to use words to paint images of violent sex, some people were, or pretended to be into this – that or Jason would simply pick a fight with anyone who dared to say, “hello” to him.  Though he personally never searched for a philosophical reason for choosing, almost constantly, to become someone else, he had heard theories on the subject.   One stated that most teens and early adults that took part in such activities - changing their personality or pretty much anything about them – did so because they subconsciously hated themselves, and hoped they would become what they projected into the digital world.   But Jason felt this was not that case.  While he knew he wasn’t perfect, he liked certain things about himself.  He personally didn’t overly care about anyone that he had gone to school with or, that he ever worked with.

            Though as far as he knew most people had no problem with him.  But then again, most people avoided him wherever, and when ever possible.  Since graduating, five months ago, no one he used to attend school with had called him.  Except for Jenn who was someone Jason found unimaginably attractive, and had a major crush on for the longest time.  Even so he could not tolerate her company for a long time, because so many urges would strike him.  Some of them were so violent, or so powerful, that they frightened him.  But also partially because he had a reclusive, lone wolf nature of not being able to deal with people for a long time.  Though Jenn was easier to take than most people.  

Jenn was a darker girl, she had her hair dyed black, and cut short. Her clothes consisted almost entirely of black cargo jeans, and black t-shirts. While she was only slightly gothic, it was enough to make most people air on the side of caution. Though it wasn't usually the dark clothing or even the trench coat that gave the impression; her sunglasses which she wore seemingly 24/7 weren’t the usual cause either. It was for the most part her personality. If you watched closely you noticed that the way that she walked was, unnatural. Her voice carried an interesting impression of power and wisdom. Her eyes seemed to hold a secret so deep that it made their ocean blue surface extend into a trench deeper than any found on earth. Always with her was her portable CD player. Always in it was some new hard trance mixture.  She hardly listened to rock, or any other genre of music - Jason often felt that she should expand her borders, to which she would say, ‘I’ve been to the furthest reach of human creativity, and back, and this is the stuff that gets me the closest to the stars’ her words and sentences were comprised better than any poetry Jason had ever read - The beats she listened to weren't what most people would like, or could even tolerate; indeed she had created the majority herself, and thus was pretty much the only person capable of listening to them. But Jason had always found her music to fill him with strength. 

Every time he listened to those beats he found something in them made his heart beat a little faster. His muscles seemed to clench a little tighter. The melodies dropped his body into a mood where he wanted to move; whether it was dancing, fighting, or just moving. His right hand moved to the mouse and switched his applications to his music program; he was fluid with the mouse, pausing only briefly to familiarize himself with the music program again. He quickly asked his 200-plus songs to be sorted by artist and searched for his own trance songs. Integrated among all of his rock, and pop artists, almost scattered without care were his random trance DJ's. He double clicked on the song "alone in the crowd" it was one of Jenn's favorites, though one of the few she had not done herself. There was a woman sung in the background later, the beats and mood of the song stayed uplifting despite her sullen voice. Jason knew that if he listened to what she had to say it might depress him. The intro beats set the mood before the singer’s entry.  Extreme energy flowed at the core of the song, then the singer hit her entry point, and the mood dropped slightly,  "One ‘o’ clock in the mornin', and you left me by myself, so I search the clubs to find you, and find you holdin' someone else." Jason felt strangely like singing along. His mind could not leave Jenn, and he was suddenly able to see her dancing alone in this massive flowing group of jumping people his own age. Jason could envision her getting pushed - but pushing back harder - in the mosh pit. This would be the particular song playing deafeningly loud from massive speakers.   Though he had never been to a rave, he had figured what they looked like from movies and books he had read.

A knock came at his basement window so suddenly he almost fell off his chair, and his heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t see out it – last winter he had learned to clog it with insulation; it got cold in the basement if he didn’t - Cautiously Jason turned his music down. He heard the crunching of snow outside; the steps were heavy and labored.  Jason could see a sluggish zombie limping in his minds eye. He shifted his eyes back to the computer, glanced at the time: 2:14 am was proudly displayed. “I wonder,” He murmured aloud, he was unsure how words were unable to escape the locked cage of fear around his heart, and how loud they came out. Carefully he slid his hand around the grip of the wooden baseball bat next to his computer. He half dragged it across the carpet to him. Then hoisted it off the ground and firmly into both hands. He opened the door with his foot and proceeded upstairs. Fear still casting an iron shadow on him, and cautiously with his back turned to the inside wall. He shuffled across the landing, and up the second flight of stairs. A light rap came from the front door. His senses barely caught it. Jason hoped that who ever it was that had come to his house in this early hour of the morning did not make too much noise. His mother was upstairs; far enough back in the house to barely hear anyone that came knocking, but there was a speaker box for the doorbell in her room.  If this person got impatient and pressed the doorbell in a split second she would be awake and be putting her house coat on. Jason knew she would stomp down here, much like he imagined her entering a courtroom on a bad day. 

Jason listened and at first the only sound was his knocking heart, but after a few seconds of listening he could hear someone pacing outside. The crunch of the snow betrayed their impatience. His brow was wet with perspiration. He moved with more caution then ever. The knock came again. Jason stopped dead he waited a few moments. The pacing continued. Jason moved quickly from the top of the stairs across to the door. He put his ear to the door, even though he was sure that he wouldn't hear anything more. Though rather thin, his nineteen-year-old body had hard, long lean muscles, and built more from and for endurance than brute strength, he was lighter than most boys his age, and quieter in footfalls due to his late night nature. Outside the pacing stopped, and he heard what at first he might have considered a growl, but when he thought about it he was compelled to think it to be a sigh, then a stomp, a muffled voice. He couldn't make very much out with any certainty. He stood up, back against the door. And turned the dead bolt slowly. It was new and didn't squeak; it was especially now, that he was glad for it.  He was afraid of a clicking noise when it slid out of the catch and into the door, but no sound issued.  Another sigh/growl from his visitor – he assumed his because they had knocked on his basement window - Some more words were spoken, a little louder, but still he was unable to make them out. Who ever was that was outside walked up to the door and knocked a little louder. One rap, two, but before the third came, he flung the door open. The bat hoisted on the shoulder, ready to do damage to whatever robber, or home invader – or zombie – that might have the misfortune of standing there. But instead he was greeted with Jenn's slightly pale, but still lovely face.

Maybe it was the cold night, but Jenn appeared a little paler than usual. Her eyes were a little more distant, the harsh winter night made her look like the walking dead; her skin looked a little thinner. Her lips were a little less red. Maybe she wasn't wearing makeup, or more than usual. Who knew? Oddly enough the last thing he noticed was the worried look on her face – it was actually the easiest thing to notice about her right now - "You fuckin’ bastard, keep me waitin’ out here, it's colder than my step mom's shoulder," she sounded more worried than pissed, which was neither a relief nor a burden. Jason didn't say anything; in fact he stood with an open door practically facing the freezing weather as well. His mind was still in the process of checking to make sure of what he was seeing. Though she wasn't really dressed for this cold, she was never failing in her black trench coat over top her black t-shirt, and black cargo jeans - Jason had seen different pairs of pants, some tighter, some looser, some with the pockets sown differently, but all were the same baggy cargo style - and it was now that he could most strongly envision her claim about being a little different from the average girl - even though Jenn walked in the day she claimed to be Vampire of sorts, though reminded people to not confuse what she was with a movie vampire - Currently her black hair was damp from falling snow, and her shoes were white from walking in it. A light dusting remained on her shoulders and in various nooks in her jacket. "Can I come in?" she asked sarcastically.  Her voice was a little weak, and Jason now recognized her long face to represent her fatigue rather than her worry or dismay.

"Um, yea, here" Jason said stepping back from the door. She took a shaky first step; it was audible and visibly weak.  Jason’s mind was so far removed –dreaming of possibilities about her arrival here – he didn’t notice she had fainted till she fell into his view range.  She was far from hitting the ground, Jason moved - did he ever move, like a lighting bolt - putting his hands in her armpits. He was only able to provide a sort of controlled fall. Some how she had managed to turn 180 degrees before falling. But Jason placed her on the ground several times lighter than if she had simply fallen. He was nowhere near strong enough to hoist her up from this position. But he found he could drag her back with little trouble, as he towed her away from the door, so he could close it, and his mind went into overdrive. He wondered about calling an ambulance, but quickly dismissed the thought.  Though he didn't know why; usually he was a rational person.   It was just right now, something told him that it wouldn’t work if he did, plus he felt that it wasn't the right thing to do. He closed the door, and heard the furnace click on. Heat came pouring through several vents on the main floor.  The difference was made in a few moments.  During that time he stood perfectly still, checking the house for signs of his mother being awake.  He scanned Jenn, as she lay unconscious on the floor. There was only a ghost of the winter moonlight now, just what was filtered through the windows, and blinds. He bent down and undid her boots. The Sorrels, were more like work boots than winter boots. They took some wiggling and tugging, but eventually came free. The deep tread lines were full with snow. He set them aside with his boots, as to make it seem like she came over previous to quarter after two in the morning. He moved so that he was kneeling next to her chest.  In a crouch his steps were quiet and quick. Her chest moved slowly up and down with her breath. He’d subconsciously noticed it before now, but hadn't taken full notice of how deep her breaths were coming.  Getting her downstairs without making too much noise was the first obstacle, but he was on the verge of a complete panic melt down, and thus such was having an extraordinarily hard time thinking – He couldn’t wake his mom up, nor could he leave Jenn here; either would cause a lot of problems - Finally his mind stumbled across a solution; literally it was like tripping in the dark. Jason grabbed the arm furthest from him; she rolled over without resistance, had she not been breathing, he would have thought her dead for her muscles held no resistance. He maneuvered her into a sitting position. Next he put both arms under her, much like the way he lowered her to the floor, but his body was much closer to her now than it had been then. He had more leverage, and the certain brand of adrenaline he tasted now gave him added strength. He hoisted her up, so she was leaning against the closet doors. He then got in front of her and let her fall across his shoulders. Possibly because of the panic in his skull or the adrenaline in his veins, she felt light, lighter than he would have expected someone of her size to be - not that she was over weight, in fact she was quite the opposite, almost too thin, almost too frail looking. - He put his left arm around her neck, and his right around one leg. He headed for the stairs; his steps were audibly heavy trodden. Even before the landing he could feel the burn in his thighs, and calves.  His shoulders ached dully, but the ache was increasing and starting to throb else where in his body.  Worried he would have to put her down before he could make it into the basement room he picked up the pace slightly.  When he turned the corner and started down the second set of steps, he began to hear his computer again. The music he left running, and messages popping up in his IM and chat. A faint yellowish light cast from the downstairs rec. room. Jason stumbled into the room faster than he would have usually, but still not overly fast. He half dropped Jenn onto the couch.  And it felt like a great emotional weight was lifted from him, also he knew she wouldn't be hurt in the impact, for the couch was soft. She landed with a rustle as her jacket was folded under her weight, some jingling as her chains collapsed and unnamable metallic objects collided in her pockets. She moaned slightly, giving an illusion that she was merely asleep.  Jason knelt over and shook her slightly via his hand on her stomach, which was slightly exposed. 

Her belly appeared to be rather toned, and muscular, yet distinctly feminine and sexy – even if it was rather white - She moaned again from the vibrations. He grabbed her with both hands, firmly and on the t-shirt, his mind firmly set on waking her up, his palms stayed clasped on the balls of her shoulder. He shook her violently. She moaned, no louder than the other two times. "Useless!" he screamed before his mind caught his mouth. He practically bounced her off the couch before letting go.  He stood up, planning to go onto the computer again, but he looked at his hands before even nearing the keyboard, his thumb was almost dripping with blood that had transferred onto him from her.  Which meant that some how – whether it was from a wound on her or something else – there was a lot of blood on her shoulder.  Just like flipping a light switch, his mind went back into overdrive and the adrenaline came flooding back. He sped out of the room, and upstairs to the bathroom. He grabbed a couple of white towels, which were the only ones in there. Half jumping, half running down the stairs again, he attempted to wipe the blood off his hand – whilst keeping semi-quiet – he only succeeded in getting the blood on the towel and his other hand. Had this been some other time, with some other person, he would have done things completely different. But he felt as if now she was letting him in a secret. That he was sworn to secrecy as well, he had only to figure out what it was he was being told. He came running into the room, chucked the towels at Jenn, half expecting her to sit up and catch them, but she didn’t even moan, actually he was in such a rush he would not have noticed, and like the legendary comic book hero, flash; he doubled back out of that room, and down the hall to the laundry room with a lightning speed. He fished a clean ice-cream pail from under the sink and filled it with warm water, his heart rate slowed as the water poured into the bucket. He rushed with the water, keeping one hand on the bottom as he moved back into the room. He pulled the coffee table close to the couch and set the water on it. He grabbed her arms and pulled them from her jacket, he didn't bother taking it from underneath her. Once she was on top of that he reached for the scissors in the tin that was nestled into the corner next to the couch. He made one swift pass down the middle of her shirt. And then cut the shoulders free, an effective way of removing her t-shirt. She wore a lacy black bra, but he paid almost no attention, he was focused on something else for once. He exposed the bloody area. He grabbed one of the towels, dipped it in the water till it was slightly more than damp and started swabbing the wound. After several passes at it he got rid of the blood, and found what looked like a bite mark. Though it was weird. He got a chill from touching it.  The canine teeth had sunken deep into her, then there were two smaller points slightly in from that, and two in another row below that.  6 points of impact all together, and already it was bruising from the force used to penetrate the skin that deep. By this time the water in the pail was a dull pink

The wound wasn't bleeding too terribly; he knew that she wouldn't bleed to death. But it was no doubt deep.  Jason knew –from first aid training - that he couldn't leave it unattended till it stopped bleeding. He dipped the towel once more once more and swabbed it. The bleeding was stopping, slowly. He figured that most of what had been there was residual. Jason began started to hold the towel on the wound longer. He glanced at his watch, nearly two thirty in the morning. He was completely wired from adrenalin and the three glasses of cola he had drunken before all this had started. He removed the towel, and left the wound for a minute. The blood slowly pooled and began to run. It appeared it wasn't as deep as he thought. He dabbed some more blood. Then quickly dropped the towel in the water and went upstairs to the bathroom. He threw open the medicine cabinet and grabbed the first aid kit. Then back down the stairs, two at a time.  He was quietly rushing, going as fast as he could without making a racket. He burst into the room again. Jenn was still on her back on the couch, nothing had changed. The wound had drizzled a little blood, but it just soaked into her T-shirt and jacket. He grabbed the cloth and wrung it out and threw it on the table, clicked open the latches and found the gauze and pads. He quickly fished a single pad out and pressed it onto the wound, using his free hand he grabbed the roll of gauze and wrapped it around her shoulder to under her armpit. The wound was on one side of her bra strap, next to her neck, but it wasn't on her neck, sort of in the crook between her neck and top of her shoulders. So the pad and everything fit. He was glad to not have to remove her bra to work. Even though he did have to slide on the strap off her shoulder. After he secured the gauze with some tape he pulled her shirt out from under her and threw it into the garbage. In the midst of doing other clean up jobs he grabbed the blanket from his room. When he returned he rolled her off her coat, and placed her back against the back of the couch so that she lay on her side. He then threw the cover over her, and let her rest.  Her head was on the armrest of the couch.  After he was sure that she would neither fall off the couch or slide onto her back, he began putting more things away. He was rather pleased with himself.  After handling a crisis situation both calmly and effectively, but also, he did it without waking his mom. 

Jason couldn't help smiling, a little. There wasn't a big, stupid grin on his face. It was more of a half smile, and he wanted to whistle, but he knew that he was a loud whistler so he refrained. He took the kit upstairs, taking his time to be quiet now. He washed his hands with soap in the bathroom. The blood on his hands had dried and hadn't fallen on anything he’d touched. But it poured off him in such quantities he thought it might stain the sink. He moved downstairs silently, entered the room in a casual way. He snatched her jacket off the floor, and threw it in the washing machine. His movements were fluid and relaxed. He poured the soap in, like some people would pour a glass of milk. He closed the lid quietly and started the washing machine. It hissed and rumbled as he walked back into the room. He glanced at Jenn; she was still in the same position, still breathing deeply. Some instinct told him that she would be all right for the rest of the night. But all the same he turned his computer so he could see if she stirred. He was impressed with his ability to stay so calm.

He resumed typing online – still feeling rather pleased with himself, he avoided a catastrophe, without waking his mom - breathing not a word of the events that had taken him nearly an hour, he didn't whisper a syllable of the secret she told him. Even though he had not the knowledge to make the connections between the blood, her fainting, and his compulsions to do things against his nature. He felt that they were all linked in some mysterious way. Somewhere between where three AM ended, and four AM began, Jason dozed off at his computer. His music still played softly in the background, and people still attempted to chat with him, asking him where he lived, and how old he was. Their only answer was the slight snoring and occasional murmuring that he did in his sleep.  But they couldn’t hear that.