Simon's Secret

So, what became of Simon Thompson after Suzanna and Sarah left?

Well, by the time they got home, he was still lying on top of his bike, staring up at the night sky with a hand on his chest as patrons exited the Ogre's Plate. The sting from her slap had subsided, but not gone away, and his heart hadn't stopped beating erratically. These were the only things he could think about.

The feeling of his phone vibrating in his pocket was enough to make him blink. He shook his head and pulled out the phone to see his brother calling.

"Bruce...?"

"Simon, thank goodness," Bruce said, his usual deadpan overlaying genuine urgency, "This is really bad. I need yer help."

Simon quickly got to his feet in alarm, "What?! What is it?"

Silence.

"Bruce, what's wrong?!"

"... We're out o' egg rolls," Bruce said with a deep despondency.

Simon's brows and eyelids fell.

"Simon...?"

He hung up the call and picked up his bike. Several pieces of it fell off, mostly aesthetic; the right handle was bent the wrong way from the landing, and the mirrors were gone. Still, it was enough to get him back to Hogan Hills.

He parked the bike next to all his others in their massive white garage and went inside. He found Bruce in the second living room, curled up on his side, in his pyjamas, on the couch, staring blankly at the silent flatscreen TV.

Simon walked in front of him and looked down in annoyance. Bruce's dead eyes moved to stare back at him. Simon then rolled his and held up a bag, from which emanated the scent of egg rolls, prompting Bruce's hand to reach up and grab it.

Simon watched him scarf them down for a bit before shaking his head and walking towards the stairs.

Bruce let out a satisfied sigh, sat up and asked, "So, ’ow was t’ date?"

Simon stopped and glared, "It wasn't a date."

"Reit..." Bruce said, rolling his own eyes, " 'Ow did it go, though?"

Simon looked away, "It went..." he put a hand over his chest again, "... well."

Bruce squinted, "Wot 'appened, exactly?"

Simon moved the hand to his hip, "I took her out to and then..."

Bruce leaned forward, "Then wot?"

"I took her for a ride... in Crüger..." Simon admitted.

He heard the sound of the bag falling and turned to see Bruce staring at him in shock, "Crüga?"

"Yes...?"

Bruce frowned deeply, "You let her ride Crüga?"

"It was to cheer her up," Simon said, "It worked, because she's-"

Bruce turned away grumbling, "Ya don't even let me ride Crüga... anymore..."

Simon now had both hands on his hips, "You'd have to get out of the house first."

Bruce gave him the side-eye, "Tha's a low blow."

Simon shrugged, "Maybe," then continued towards the staircase, "Good night, little brother."

A loud and angry grunt made him turn back around to see Bruce digging his long nails into his knees, gritting his teeth and louring at him with glowing red eyes.

"You're... older by... a... day!" Bruce snapped, "One. Bloody. Day!"

Simon smirked, "Correct. A day. 24 hours. No, wait..." he tilted his head, his own green eyes also glowing, "24 hours, 3 minutes and 46 glorious seconds all to myself, little brother."

Bruce growled, but ultimately looked away in defeat.

"That's what I thought," Simon said, turning back to the stairs for the final time.

Bruce snatched up his bag of egg rolls, his eyes having returned to their normal shade of brown, "Whatever... virgin."

Simon almost fell face-first onto the stairs. He wanted so badly to go back down and give Bruce what for, but would not give him the satisfaction. He just straightened himself and kept walking.

Bruce continued eating his egg rolls with the faintest of smiles.

Simon entered his expansive bedroom, lined with bookshelves from the door to the farthest window and an emperor-sized bed in the centre. He shut the door and then locked it, then walked toward the mirror that was next to a big white drawer, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it apart to expose his chest and the bright red handprint dead in the centre. Suzanna's handprint.

He could still feel the sting, still feel his heart beating in his chest, but the feeling he was trying to imagine was the impact. He had been hard before, obviously. He'd been chopped in the chest before, obviously.

It didn't even really hurt him all that much.

No, his pain registry had been broken a long time ago...

It was just... different... Like the force she exerted when she held him during the motorcycle ride... Or when she attacked him in her sleep... Or when she shoved him at the tryout...

He closed his eyes and grumbled, "Damn that mouse...", as he continued to undress while going through the bathroom door on the other side of the drawer, "I need a shower."

He'd soon learn that it needed to be a cold one.

It didn't work.

At all.

So he got out, unable to wear his towel. The handprint was gone, but the sting was still there, as was his rapidly beating heart. Putting on pyjamas would be... irritating, so he wasn't going to bother.

Before he slept, though, he needed to get that gi- SLAP out of his mind, and he knew just how to do it. He opened the bottom drawer and pulled out the neatly folded clothes, revealing his deepest secret... and shame. The very reason that he locked the door. For he could not stomach the thought of Bruce finding out this.

Of course, Bruce was fully aware of it, and it made him incredibly sad. He chose to stay quiet about that fact, and so will we, for Simon's sake.

The secret was the entire collection of "My Lady's Castle" by Sam Schein, a series of novels about the misadventures of a young and hubristic vampire hunter, named Aidan Sommers, who goes after a powerful vampiress called Lady Xidimotra or just Lady X, and ends up trapped in her castle to be tormented endlessly.

Each entry details Aidan's futile attempts at either escaping the castle or killing Lady X, all of which end in painful and humiliating failure. Lady X is absurdly powerful to the point that all the old vampire-killing techniques range from inconveniencing to ineffective. She's also 7 feet tall with a violent temper, a snobbish arrogance and a tendency to call anyone she deemed beneath her a dog, including Aidan. And he, Simon, to his own disgust, loved her.

Every single book in this series was terrible. Sadly, Simon found them at too young an age and has been hooked ever since. A part of him always wanted to meet Lady X, but as he got older, and bigger, and taller, the fantasy lost its allure, since they'd be looking each other in the eye. Something, as a wrestler, he'd learn to find unimpressive.

Another reason to curse his lineage...

Still, he always came back, eventually, helped by the first-person narration of Aidan, who is barely 5 feet 7, hence his ego.

So, which one was he looking for, anyway? It was the fourth entry, "My Lady's Hand", in which Aidan attempts an assassination, only to walk in on Lady X while she's changing and is returned to the dungeon with a sore bottom, among other things.

This entry is special as it's the first one to ever describe the Lady's full appearance, as she was always modestly dressed and wore a veil over her face up to this point. It was written in very flowery tones, "...skin like the purest sand, hair like billowing smoke and falling ash, and those eyes. Huge, black coals that burned with a-"

(Wait, hold on a second.)

He re-read that line, over and over and over again, with wider and wider eyes before hurling the book with such force that it cracked the wall.

He pulled on his hair, screaming, "DAMMIT! DAMMIT! DAMMIT! DAMMIT! DAMMIT! DAMMIT! DAMMIT! DAMMIT! DAMMIT! DAMMIT! DAMMIT! DAMMIT! DAMMIT!"

His phone started ringing. He snatched it from the top drawer. It was Bruce again.

"What?"

"Yer makin’ a racket."

Simon ended the call by crushing the phone in his hand.

(That damn mouse. First, she costs me money, then she wrecks my bike and now...)

He kicked the bottom drawer shut.

(... she's ruined Lady X for me...)

He clenched his fists and gritted his now-sharpening teeth.

(I am going to...)

The sting from the slap was starting to fade away, soon to be forgotten. The rush of blood from his still-pumping heart carried with it a strange heat. He started to sweat, his breathing became heavy and ragged, his face reddened, and he felt himself swallowing... something.

(... get her... to hit me again.)