Infinite Dreams - Monika's home / The Wayward

The night was initially kind to Monika. She had spent much of the evening combining chemicals and holy water, her face fully covered by a gas mask that would at least give her the time to run away and toss it aside should it get splashed with the vicious acid she was creating. She lowered the bloody sack in with care, not bothering to take the heads out. She'd sealed the tank, pressurized it, and finally she'd gone back upstairs where she could allow herself to remove the mask, relishing the fresh air on her clammy face. A shower and a short meditation later, exhaustion set in, and she'd been asleep the moment she laid down.

And deep and dreamless the night was, without a trace of errant consciousness. But an irritant in the early hours of the morning stirred her soul, and the seed bloomed into a confusing and distressing landscape. She was in the hospital by her mother's side. Her mother tried to speak, but her mouth was covered by an eggshell. "What do I do?!" Monika asked desperately. Mother handed her a spoon. Monika tapped the eggshell, and it broke apart, revealing a terrible, bloody gash, a wound that would never close, and it grew and it spread and her mother cried out and Monika tried to get a nurse but the nurses wouldn't come and her mother was turning inside out and Monika could only scream and-

It was her own scream that woke her up. She sat up and tried to get out of bed so fast that her legs tangled in the sheets and she fell hard on the wooden floor. She felt the first wave of sickness course through her body and knew she only had seconds to go. She kicked away the blanket, hurled herself into the bathroom and was only just in time to vomit in the toilet.

A few minutes later, she dragged herself into the hallway and stared blearily at the red numbers glowing on her alarm clock. 5:30. She grunted, walked through the living room into the pantry, pulled the stopper from a half-full bottle of gin and took a swig. "Fugging nighmares," she mumbled, closing the bottle and putting it on the wrong shelf. There was a lump in her throat that was now on fire with the combination of stomach acid and strong alcohol. She walked over to the fridge, pulled out a gallon of milk, and took a few large gulps from that. This soothed a little, and the bleariness began to leave her. So did the feeling of horror the dream had left her with.

"Well," she said aloud in the silent kitchen, to fill the void if nothing else, "let's see whether we got vampire soup yet."

____

She was one of the first in the Wayward that day, which wasn't unusual. Now a few hours into her day, she was alert as ever, especially as the bottom of the large mug of coffee came into view. As such, Genevive's efforts in setting up the menu did not escape her. She smiled wryly as the young woman displayed better penmanship than most Hunters had ever seen, let alone practiced. The nun had barely sat herself down proper when Monika's shadow fell over her. "Rugaru, huh? Tricky business. Fast fuckers, too. I might be able to help you out, though. Wayward courtesy. And..." she looked over to the board. Alec had just come in and was inspecting the neat handwriting on the bottom. "Looks like you got your first customer already. Hey Alec! Over here!"