Round One - Sloth

Original Sin

It's a little hard to talk about something that's part of your personality. They call laziness a sin, but what about those of us who are born lazy? Oh trust me, it's possible, and it's not as cushy as it sounds. In fact it's outright draining – imagine feeling ready to sleep half-way through the day? It's even worse when you're naturally bothered by mess too. Conflict of interests? You bet. In fact that's partly why I asked Gino's Mum to bite me – up all night without feeling lethargic? Yes please! Okay, so I can't get out during the day, but I couldn't do that much before. I was either at work or curled up on the couch, when I wasn't forcing myself to go round the house on a cleaning spree anyway.

Work? Oh yes. I went to University for a reason; even as a child the idea of smart suits and office work really appealed to me, and I decided to go for a business degree. I ended up sharing with both my twin sister Diana and a girl I met at school, who I knew as Gina. Both very active girls – up bright and early, rush rush rush... they made me dizzy. Likewise I must have driven them mad with my lack of activity, but I didn't care. Diana is just as clean as me, so the house never needed my attention all the time we were there, which by this point suited me just fine. I was never a morning person, and all those early classes soon took their toll.

All I'd hear during my stay was that I'd “better get used to it” if I wanted office work later on. That did occur to me on several occasions, with the hours being nine to five... all I could think was “ouch.” Still, it was a dream I had, and the reply I came up with was “it'll mean I earn my lie-ins over the weekend,” wearing my trademark cheeky grin as they walked away in annoyance. Even then, I managed to get out of the early working hours when I graduated... it was at our sending-off I got bitten. By a massive stroke of luck the people who would be my employers recognised that vampires were just as capable of giving a good service and offered night shifts. I got out of early mornings after all!

How Gina and I ended up together baffled those around us at first, but then she's been my rock since our school days... which leads me to a different spin on this so-called sin. Sloth isn't just about laziness, believe it or not. I was surprised myself on looking up the meaning; when it first came about it was defined also as joylessness, sadness, apathy... That actually sounds very unfair, but going by that definition I could probably be one of the most slothful people alive.

It started when I was about five years old. An age where you naturally get curious about the facts of life, but out of the children who ask “how did we get here?”, how many parents in reply tell them they got taken by aliens? How many of those would be serious about it too? If I was pink instead of green maybe I would have laughed. Instead however, as Mum showed me a photo the alien in question had given him to show me, I cried.

My head continued to spin as I got older, wondering all sorts of things about my father – how much did I take after him? Did he ever care about us, or were we just experiments to him? Especially when it transpired that, to Mum at least – we called him Mum since he was the guy who carried us inside him – Diana and I weren't even meant to be here. He confessed that he'd merely missed the therapeutic hobby of gazing up at the stars with a telescope designed to the task, and it had been a while since any alien being had picked up on its use. This particular time they did, and going by the first discussion about it, Mum even tried to bargain with this guy, saying he'd “had enough”. That cut me like a knife – how do you deal with something like that? It was during my childhood my sensitive nature first reared its ugly head; ironically it was that part of me that drew Gina to me in the first place and made me so popular with the people around me, saying how nice a person I am, but it's a double-edged blade. It also makes you more receptive to pain, and in my case it didn't even have to be directed at me for me to feel it. Being naturally so serious with it caused me to chew over the various issues I faced too, which only served to intensify that pain. My long-term plans formed mainly to serve as a distraction from what was happening around me, but even that only helped to a degree. It was probably my own origins that caused me to react so badly to the antics of one of my older half-sisters; she'd got herself pregnant through a one night stand, and I'd met the result of that during my school days.

That gnawed at me all the time I progressed through adolescence, and often affected my concentration, to the point where I wondered if it was worth carrying on. I did of course, mainly because that's when I saw Gina the most and she was someone to talk to. I had that so much more then, and I found it easier to release my inner misgivings. It did much to lighten the load and make it possible for me to remain at school and have a chance of extending my studies. Although at the time there was something else dragging me down, which at first was only hinted by my outburst when I finally met the half-sister mentioned before. She meant it as a joke, at least I thought she did when she said I should be a father someday. It wasn't until Sarah – Mum's wife and the woman who later would bite me – fell pregnant with my youngest twin half-siblings that it became apparent just how much fatherhood was meaning to me, even at the age of sixteen. There was no time to get her to hospital so I ended up delivering little Evan and Amy... and just holding the girl in my arms was stirring a paternal feeling so deeply buried I didn't even know it was there. Suddenly there was a conflict of interests – what did I want with my life, work and money or family and love?

After graduation Gina and I got a house together, and it was then she finally convinced me to bite her. Like me, she'd found a night time vacancy in her chosen field, sports, and to start with that was our focus; sleep, hunt, work. Mundane but we kept telling ourselves the money would come in handy... and when I decided the time was right to propose, her own news of being pregnant was enough to remind me of that. Money was slipping from my mind at the time though, I was too excited at the prospect of becoming a father.

At first it was wonderful, despite having to eat into our holiday time in order to look after them. As Andy and Chris got older, I began to feel broody again – I don't know how I managed to convince Gina, but I was glad when she did... at first. We both got the shock of our lives on finding out she was expecting no less than four babies, and with little boys to look after too, we needed to find a bigger house, and even retired early so we could give all six of our children the time they needed. Still we coped as best we could, heaving a big sigh of relief when the boys got old enough to look after themselves as they wound up taking a turn in looking after the new arrivals – all girls. Little did we know at the time however, that what the twins were to go through would pale my turbulent teenage years into insignificance, and would test all aspects of my being to the limit; not only patience and parental ability, but also my sanity.

I didn't notice anything amiss at first, even when Andy – the green lad – asked me if they could have a double bed, his reason being Chris was still falling out of his single at night and waking him up - the poor kid was getting sick of it, so I agreed. One thing I fail to understand though, even now, is how parents can say they feel so heartbroken on finding their children to be gay. It happened to us with both of them a little while later, but then the fact both Gina's parents are men and some of my family are gay might have a lot to do with it. Still, even if not I wouldn't have cared... not even vampires can see into the future. If we could I would have felt a lot worse about their revelation, as that led to what would threaten to tear our family apart later on.

I was doing some cleaning one night, and was walking past their room on the way to the bathroom – well, one of them. Only vampires have sensitive hearing; if I was mortal I probably would have been none the wiser and gone on my way, but I'm not. I heard something filtering through their door and backed away a little to check I wasn't hearing things. Still not convinced I beckoned Gina over to join me, but the look on her face told me it wasn't just me. We had to scurry over to our room and lock ourselves in so we could vent in peace; Gina looked about to be sick while I just slumped onto the bed, my mind reeling from the shock of what we'd heard and all sorts of questions racing through my head. Why? What were they thinking, if they were at all? Everything was going so well, all the pain I'd suffered before, no matter how much my nature had brought onto myself, had subsided enough for me to enjoy my life. Now this. That sinking feeling I'd experienced many a time during my younger years returned threefold at least as I pondered everything else I'd gone through before. Hadn't I suffered enough? Things like my sister at least weren't anything to do with me – she didn't live with me, she was a law unto herself. Thinking about it now, I don't know why I let her get to me so much when this was now going on under our noses, and was much more serious. If it was just a case of one of them having a boyfriend over I could understand it, but... I can't go into too much detail, but let's just say we had strong words with them about it the following night.

They knew exactly why we were so angry, although Andy decided to test the waters first. Gina nearly lost it then, to the point where I had to send her up to her punch bag. I felt like doing the same, but I know explosions do more harm than good so I managed to contain myself as I spoke to them both, my more logical mindset allowing me to calm down enough to delve into the reasons why. I don't know why my anger melted away as we spoke, but I could only wish it didn't as a stronger, more destructive emotion replaced it, that of overwhelming sadness and pain as I felt the things I'd worked so hard for beginning to crumble away. To make matters worse, my over-sensitive nature and tendency to think too much about the absorbed pain had been inherited by Chris. Despite everything his big concern was that he'd hurt me. As much as I couldn't bear to tell him, my tears gave it away and we ended up sobbing into each other's arms. I wished so much that he'd taken more after his Mum with her care-free nature like his brother had, but even Andy was badly shaken by my state of mind. They weren't expecting for this to end in tears and neither was I, although maybe I should have. I can't stay angry at anyone for long, let alone my own flesh and blood. I can't vent my anger or frustration the way Gina can, my only outlet was through my eyes, but like me Chris is too receptive to pain. Anger he may have just about been able to deal with, especially when it was him and Andy at the root of it.

About one, two months down the line the atmosphere was still strained. I tried my best to carry on, although deep inside my mind was still reeling from the shock. Gina was still angry, and those two picked up on it; Chris became more and more withdrawn as time went by, while Andy merely simmered. He didn't show it often, but it was in his eyes. I tried to make him see things from our point of view but the shutters went up; he thought I was going the same way as his Mum. To be honest I wish I did; it's a lot healthier to feel angry than it is to feel hurt or upset. Yet all I could ask of whoever would listen was “What did I do to deserve this?!” With everything else and now this, I felt as though I was being punished.

That sentence I'd been given for whatever crime I'd committed got no lighter. About a week or so later, my daytime slumber got disturbed by a heavy rapping on the lid of my coffin, and I woke to find Andy pacing anxiously about the room.
“Dad!” he greeted me, “I'm worried about Chris; he's been in the bathroom ages, and he's not answering when I knock.”
“Which one?” I asked expectantly with a frown. Given his mood lately I didn't know whether to be worried or not. As Andy led me to the door however, what began as an innocent knocking quickly took a sinister turn when a familiar scent wafted through the gaps between the door and frame.
“What the...?” I remarked to myself, taking in another deep breath through my nose.
Is that what I think it is?
My in-built predatory senses kicked in as I started to sniff at the gaps, and my stomach turned as the scent of blood now detected was overpowering. Remembering who was inside was enough to pull me out of predator mode and back into parent mode as I broke the lock on the door, opened it to investigate... and screamed.

It took every ounce of the will I had left to pull me into action. It was too late to call an ambulance; he'd be dead by the time it got here. He was nearly there already... we don't make a habit of biting kids, and my youngest half-brother was enough to remind me of why (he's another story), but we were faced with no other option. It was Gina who did the honours as she was nearer, but while she tended the near-fatal wound in his wrist something caught my eye.
“What's that?” I asked.
She frowned before looking down at the back of his wrist, and my heart sank at the sight of lacerations on his arm in various states of repair.
“Oh Chris,” I heard Andy mutter as she continued her work. I would have said similar if I hadn't felt robbed of my ability to speak. Instead I bit softly on my lip in a bid to still my quaking jaw, tears flowing down my cheeks as I began to wonder how long he'd been doing this to himself, and more importantly, why? Blaming yourself for something is the worst thing anyone can do, I know that, but by this point I couldn't help it. All I could think was, if it wasn't for me being the way I was, it wouldn't have got passed down to him, and he'd have been less likely to feel driven to end his life. To say nothing of the shock and grief naturally felt by a father seeing his son lying in pools of blood he'd spilled by his own hands.

That day – and night when Chris joined us on our hunt – was the last time I'd felt able to let my emotions go in the only way I knew how. Andy bought him a cure the next day, not wanting for his sake to see him stay a fifteen year old forever. Thankfully he took it and began to get back to normal, although I couldn't help but notice how the pair of them seemed to be down with some kind of stomach bug. At first we put it down to their immune systems being low after all that'd happened, but this carried on for over a month. We both told them to get themselves checked out, but they seemed to prefer playing the waiting game. In the meantime my afore-mentioned younger half-brother was getting married, and he'd asked me to be his best man. Another whose antics had gotten under my skin – no point in going too much into his affairs, but this happened some time ago. Even then I was letting other people's problems affect me too much, but at least then my own family life was stable. It's almost as though something in me feeds on pain – why else would I bring on so much?

Still, it meant I could invite my own guests. When Chris and Andy were still in nappies, the alien being who fathered me decided to come down to Earth in a bid to finally meet his children, and the first he met was me. We hit it off instantly, and I'd managed to bond so well with him I decided to invite him to the wedding. It never occurred to me at the time that I'd be so grateful that he turned up, but that's just what happened, especially with news of my two boys spreading through the families. They were looking groggy even while we were waiting to start, and by now the craziest of theories was running through my head. I was out of other options, and besides they were showing other, very familiar symptoms that I'd seen before in my wife. I decided to corner Dad when I got the chance and run it by him – if anyone could put me right, or take me seriously if need be, it was him.

“Oh it's possible,” he said casually, “In fact that's why we instinctively went for the men here at first, we just assumed...” He trailed off as I shook my head, not the wisest of things to do considering how much it was now spinning.
“No, no,” I groaned, “That's not the answer I was hoping for...!”
“Why, what's wrong?”
I looked at him with pleading eyes. “It's Chris and Andy,” I whimpered, “I really hoped they were down with a persistent stomach bug...”
Knowing what so many of our folks know about those two, I didn't need to elaborate. His face fell as he stared back at me with apologetic eyes.
“Oh good Lord,” he muttered.
“Thanks anyway,” I said, about to leave but not before accepting Dad's offer of a hug.

Just the possibility was enough to leave me teetering on the edge, my being consumed now by dread as I prayed to anyone that would listen that surely, this would be the last of the trauma. I tried valiantly to retain control as I approached them when we got home, and practically ordered them to get themselves tested. I didn't need to tell them twice either, but the results that came back were the last straw.

Gina went postal. It's a miracle I didn't go the same way, but as always it was down to me to diffuse the situation and send her away. Both boys were in distress, but after the initial shock Chris slumped into the sofa like a frightened little boy.
“I'm scared,” he whimpered, “I hope I haven't damaged the baby...”
Despite myself I melted. Chris broke down into tears and was inconsolable, and the thoughts I picked up from them both were plain as day. The big question for them wasn't “Do we keep them?”, but “How are we going to cope?” Forcing them to terminate would be a big mistake, and I made sure that was the first thing I told Gina when I next saw her. In the meantime, weary from the moment of truth and containing my feelings on the situation we were now faced with, I locked myself in a bathroom and sat on the toilet, my head in my hands as I tried to process this latest state of affairs. For some reason however, although knowing I needed a release, the tears wouldn't come. Maybe it was from having to exercise so much self-control for everyone else's sake it became second nature, but as I sat there I felt, for the first time in my life, completely frozen. All sense of feeling had gone, I'd become numb to the sensation of pain. I couldn't even think practically anymore... I couldn't think at all. Except perhaps to wonder if I was experiencing what was known as a breakdown, but then I'd always pictured it being different, a complete loss of control. For me the opposite was true – there was so much control I could no longer release my emotions. Everything had gone inwards, and I had to keep it there if I was to be there for my family. I kept telling myself too many people needed me sane.

That's certainly true now, because Gina has changed. She's not as receptive to them as she was, and it's not to do with them both being pregnant as much as how the babies got there. The fact they didn't know it was even possible doesn't matter, just that they'd gone beyond the law in the first place, thus making it likely at all. Whatever feelings she harbours inside – she won't even tell me anymore for fear of hurting my own – she channels by throwing extra effort into bringing up our daughters, leaving me with two expecting teenagers, one of whom has already shown signs of ante-natal depression and risks going there again. It's not fair on his brother to support him when he needs it himself, but I'm running out of strength to lend them. I still can't show my feelings; with so many vulnerable people in the house now I daren't let them go, yet I long so much for enough time to myself to revitalise or at least release my pain somehow. Instead I solider on, showing strength on the outside but slowly crumbling inside – depression breeds apathy, I know that and that's just how I've been feeling lately. I've never been so glad for not having to worry about work as I couldn't bring myself to go – I wouldn't be able to concentrate, I can't even focus on TV or a book. I can barely muster the will to go on the cleaning sprees I used to, but Andy inherited that part of me so he's taken over, leaving me to fester outside on a bench as I drink in the tranquillity of the night, so much so I often need reminding to eat. I walk around in a daze, I've become a shell, and I'm even realising why Chris tried to take the easy way out as the idea of watching the sunrise often crosses my mind. I know better than to do that for real, but I really don't know how much longer I can carry on.