"Leftovers" Telfer Background Piece

[Clairice-Sarah]

Title: Leftovers
Characters: Telfer
Rating: NC-17/R for language, alcohol/tobacco use and abuse, gore, sexual implications



Some of you know I've been working on the relationship between Telfer and Angeline for a while, and on both of their histories.

I must warn you now.


THOSE OF YOU WHO ARE SENSITIVE TO THE ABOVE MENTIONED THEMES, SHOULD NOT READ THIS. Those of you who think that authors who write such things are mad serial killers and will stop at nothing to see that I receive some sort of counseling need to a) go back to school and b) press the back button...right now. I don't condone abuse (or rape, if you choose to read it that way) or murder, obviously.

But this is Bridgeport and there's not nearly enough terror going on here. So if you are especially queasy or easily horrified I suggest you keep your horror restricted to Twilight. If you choose to continue past this point, after I have clearly marked this post as not intended to be read by anyone under 17...I take no responsibility for your reaction to it.

I shouldn't have to make this disclaimer but unfortunately this is the internet and people overreact.

While the world is not mine, the characters, powers, story, and development are in fact, copyrighted to me. Sharing this story, reproducing it, or stealing anything from it will result in some sort of consequence. Previous encounters with plagiarism have turned me into a bitchy cynic, so do the morally correct thing and don't try your luck.

Now that that's all been said...enjoy.

“F-ck.”

Telfer lifted himself slowly, feeling the dried blood crack on his lips and cheeks. He spit, hard, trying to get the skin and muscle tissue out from between his teeth. His stomach churned as he realized what he had just eaten.

“F-ck...f-ck...” He kept repeating it as he rolled off of the corpse. “Sh-t.” The expletives kept coming in a low whisper as he regarded her. Brunette, short hair, five and a half feet? Tan skin. Red now. Her throat and stomach, split open, glistened. A pretty black top lay in a pile of threads next to her. Telfer inched back on his hands and knees, half expecting the girl to jump up and attack. His face, hands, the front of his shirt, and his jeans stained red and brown from the drying blood. He passed out eating?

He rubbed his forearm across his mouth, stumbling to his feet. His mouth tasted of iron – blood – and he licked his lips. “F-ck you, Kerri...” his hissed as he checked for all his personal effects. He fumbled a flashlight out of his pocket, glanced around once more. Nothing to trace to him? Swallowing, Telfer took off. He pulled his hair down into his eyes, trying to cover as much of his face as he could. His legs shook and he faltered more than once.

“...’m f-ckin’ drunk,” he realized out loud. From that black alley he found the main drag, somewhere. Bridgeport didn’t have a street he didn’t know, but home had to be close. Maybe.

What pub was I at...?

People laughed nearby, smoking. Telfer walked off in the other direction. His eyes followed the small blue light in front of him. He managed to trip his way up to his apartment, two more blackouts and a headfirst-crash into a wall later.

“Yo Telf—hell, man, what are you covered in!?”

His roommate needed to be shot. Telfer slurred a few sentences before putting his thoughts together. “Kid threw up’n me...get outta m’way...”

“Yeah man, for sure.” The roommate moved back to the couch without a second glance, and shoved his fist into a bowl of popcorn. Telfer flicked on the hallway light and fell into the bathroom, slammed the door shut and held himself over the toilet. He heaved. His roommate knocked on the door and Telfer grunted in response.

“Do you want some water, man?”

“F-ck! Off!” No more questions came after that. A mixture of blood and shiny chunks of chewed body floated in front of him. Brown, red, yellow, and white. Fizz of beer and bile. Telfer flushed and sat back against the bathtub.

“Disgusting...” He forced himself back onto his feet. People tasted awful the second time around. Telfer grasped the laces of his work boots with as much coherence as he could, and worked them off. Stripping next. He turned the cold water on full blast in the sink and threw his jeans down first. If he ever saw her again...

“I’ll kill you, you b-tch.” He grabbed a soap bar from beneath the counter. The stain washed out¬, thank god...he must not have been passed out for too long...he scrubbed as rough as he could, trying to sober himself. He left his clothes in a ball in the sink and sunk into the shower, sitting in the tub as hot water sprayed from above.

“F-ck.” This brought his kill-count to four.




He rolled out of bed with a hangover at two, stopping in the bathroom to check his snakebite. Seeing no bits of the brunette, he shuffled out to the kitchen. Eric sat munching through a bowl of fruit loops, eyes glued on the television.

“Whatcha watching?” Telfer asked, though uninterested.

“Red Wings.”

“Hn.” He poured cold coffee into a mug. “About...last night,” Telfer muttered, putting the mug in the microwave. He slumped over the countertop.

“No worries.” His roommate didn’t turn. “It happens. Did you really walk home from the bar without a coat, though?”

“Wasn’t that cold...” Telfer closed his eyes. “If it was, didn’t feel a thing.”

“Bet you’re feeling it now, man. You sound like sh-t.”

“Nngh...” Telfer took the coffee from the microwave and made his way to the couch. He sat on the opposite end.

“Thinking of having a party tonight. You’ll be up for it by then?”

“F-ck, you think one hangover could keep me down? Who’s coming?”

“My sister, some of her friends. The usual. Dee says her friend’s really into you.”

“Yeah. Wouldn’t mind a good lay, is she hot?”

“I think it’s the girl with the labret she hangs around.”

Telfer shrugged, sipped at his coffee. The face came to mind – admittedly, he couldn’t think of the name. Smaller girl. Telfer liked long legs and long hair but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Surely in his well-lit apartment he could pull it off.

“So I was watching the news this morning,” Eric continued, as the game paused for commercial. “Cops found some girl ripped apart in a back-end alley downtown. Buddy o’ mine started joking about a Neo-Jack the Ripper...that’s the third girl they found, eh?”

Telfer nodded, poker face. “Huh. Glad I’m not a chick.”

“I’m glad you made it home instead of running into the psycho that did it.”

“Me too.”

“Somethin’ the matter?”

“...hangover. Need a smoke.” He left the coffee on the table and walked out to the balcony, in his socks and sweats. He cupped his hand around the flame of his lighter, balancing the cigarette between his teeth. Now for the waiting. Like the last three – the two girls and the mugger – within the month they’d announce no leads, no evidence, nothing. He stared down at his hands, the faint blackish lines beneath his nails...

As long as he avoided connection to it. He didn’t credit his roommate with the ability put the pieces together. Guilt? Telfer couldn’t be responsible. This all belonged to Kerri. All over cheating. How many cheaters were there in the world that were still going, getting away with it, hurting people more than he did Kerri, a demon? She could have killed him, if she wanted!

He looked down at his hands against, moving his fingers to view the matching spade tattoos. Since that night, he hadn’t seen Kerri once. Lucky her. He flicked the ash from his cigarette and brought the filter to his lips once more. There were rapists and child molesters and serial killers who deserved this kind of punishment...

You are a serial killer Telfer, he reminded himself with a snort. Three girls. One mugger. Tore open the stomach of a teenager. Beat the living hell out of someone else. Never mind all the cats, dogs, and animals the city would never see again.

“Yeah...whatever.” He flicked the ash again. “They can arrest that dumb b-tch for turning me into this. I’m the victim here.” Telfer took one last drag before squishing the butt in his ashtray. “I haven’t gotten laid in two years, can’t go out after dark...it’s like being thirteen again.” Stopping to stare at Bridgeport’s grey skies and humidity-stained streets, he put his hand on the sliding door.

Telfer dared the city to read between the lines of the following obscenity, huffed, and slammed the door shut behind him.