Josh Breskin

115.08 ~ "I've had nothing yet", Alice replied in an offended tone: "so I ca'n't take more."
"You mean you ca'n't take *less*. It's very easy to take *more* than nothing."
the Mad Hatter's response to Alice (Lewis Carroll)

I never thought I'd say this, but I'm going to have to give up on my dream of becoming an actor. Anyone who knows me knows that I'm not coming to this decision easily. I've wanted nothing but this for as long as I can remember. I went to school to study acting, I worked my ass off to get parts, and then, in one single fucked up night, I lost everything I'd worked for.

That's a fucking joke. It makes it sound as if I actually had something. I didn't. I tried to play it up as if my pathetic bit parts in community theater productions actually meant something, but they didn't. Even that asshole agent of mine never really got me anything. The big, fabulous dream I'm giving up on is a whole lot of nothing and that's all it ever was. In a way, I'm not losing a damn thing. So why does it feel as if my life's over?

Fuck, I can't even be angst ridden without it sounding like a goddamn joke. I'm already dead. My fucking life is over. And I want to kill the bitch responsible for that.

Josh Breskin
Original Character
195 words

I was ten when my parents brought my baby sister home from the hospital. Having been subjected to an older brother and a younger sister already, I wasn't looking forward to the competition. For months, all I'd been hearing about was the new stupid baby that was going to come into the house. Every adult who came to the house was so excited about the coming miracle, while my siblings and I were pretty skeptical that the new addition would be anything but a loud mess that stole all of our parents' time and attention.

Our alliance was quickly divided once Mom called us over to look at the little intruder, though. My other sister Hannah took one look at her and, like the six year old she was, immediately fell in love with the little doll-like thing. David, my brother, grinned his goofy grin and mustered all the eleven year-old smugness he could as the eldest brother of three siblings. When it was my turn to gaze at the face of change, I scowled. Mallory Jean Breskin looked like a drowned rat wrapped up like an egg roll.

For the next few months, I tolerated my baby sister's presence because I had to. I hated the crying, I hated seeing baby toys everywhere, I hated having to sit next to the baby seat in the back seat of the car. Everything about her annoyed the hell out of me. And then the change happened.

Mom was fixing dinner, Dad was working late. David, Hannah and I were in the living room watching TV, and the drooling wonder was in her bassinet near the kitchen so Mom could keep an eye on her (as if a lump could get up to anything). Suddenly, Mallory let out this high pitched, piercing scream. I don't even remember getting off the couch and rushing over to see what was wrong, but before I knew it I had the baby in my arms and was smacking away the bee that had gotten in the house and stung her on her fat little arm. She turned out to be okay (and not allergic, thank god), and everyone was stunned that I'd been the one to rush to her aid. When Mom asked me why I'd done it, I didn't have any other answer than Mallory had sounded an emergency signal and I'd responded. Then Mom gave me one of those "Aww, my sweet boy" looks, hugged me and kissed my cheek (all the mushy crap that embarrasses a ten year-old boy).

After that, I took more of an interest in the lump, and as she grew up, she actually started to idolize me a little bit. We understand each other, and I'm proud to say she's like a little female version of me. Now, the two of us are closer to one another than to either of our other siblings, and we have the best time bugging the shit out of them.

Oh, and one more thing. Mallory Jean Breskin has the best bug collection on the West Coast. She calls it her vendetta against bugdom for her childhood attack. I love that kid.

[private]

The first thing I remember was the hunger when I woke up, a hunger that was tearing me up inside. I wasn't thinking about anything that had happened to me only hours earlier. All I could focus on was this insane need to feed.

Liz was the first person I saw. I didn't remember her as the girl I'd stolen away from a friend at my combination birthday and New Year's Eve party. At that time, I didn't even remember how painful it was when she bit me. The only thing that registered was that I wasn't supposed to hurt her. She spoke to me, and I can't remember exactly what she said, but I knew she was going to help stop the pain.

We were at her place, an abandoned warehouse in downtown L.A. She had me in her room, but I could smell that there was someone else there, someone who smelled like food. I rushed towards the door, flung it open and saw a girl in the other room. She screamed when she saw me, but she was tied to a chair just for me. I was on her before she could scream again, my teeth sinking into her neck, her sweet, hot blood filling my mouth. The thick fluid was heaven to me as it slid down my throat and sated my ravenous hunger. I could taste and smell her fear mingling with her blood, making me stronger.

It was over too quickly, but the searing pain inside me was gone. I pushed the girl's lifeless body away from me, upending the chair and feeling a strange sense of contentment at seeing her topple over with it. Liz joined me then and wished me a happy birthday, and that's when I remembered everything that had led to me being there with her.