The sunset streaked the sky in purple, gold and blushed orange hues. Max lay at Cody's feet and watched each forkful Cody took.

"You're a conniving shit, aren't you?" Cody tapped the dog's mouth with his foot. "If you keep looking at me like that I'll eat inside in future and lock you out."

The dog cocked his head in question. His tail thumped on the timber floorboards.

Cody laughed and put the plate of half-eaten food on the floor for the dog to finish. It was gone in less than a minute. "You're gonna keep me skinny and yourself fat, you bastard." Cody laughed as he wiped his hands on his King Gee work shorts and lifted his guitar.

He was a reasonable player. It was one of the few personal items he had with him. Music had kept him appeased when he was at his darkest. Now, while he lived alone, it gave him hope.

Max cocked his head when Cody's husky tones rang out, and once the words filled the air, the dog laid his head on his paws.

A tear seeped from the corner of Cody's eyes, as he sang about a lingering past that wouldn't let him be the man he wanted to be. He continued into the chorus, the meaning of the words more intense than the rest. Could past sins ever be made right? He didn't think so, but he had to find a way to end the torment that had ripped his life apart.

The lyrics caused an ache in his chest. He fought sorrow, slumped in his chair and looked over at Max. "Man, that song. I should stop playing it." He strummed his guitar strings and said, "Maybe I should give writing another go. Whatcha think, Max?"

The dog lifted his head and pricked his ears at the sound of his name.

"I got the time," Cody said with a shrug. "And I got plenty of sad sack shit to write about."

Max whined.

Cody put the guitar down, rested his head against the chair once more, and ran his hands up his arms to soothe the aches in his muscles. It'd been over a month since he'd had a bout of agitated tingles. The sensation rippled through his body and knotted in his joints. Cody gripped the chair's armrests, chuckled, and rubbed Max's ears. "I've been working hard," he said as he breathed out. "It's to be expected."

The dog cocked his head. Cody laughed again. "Yeah, mate, from one kind of crazy to another. That's me." He shook his head, laughed some more and added, "I need to stop talking to my dog and make some friends."

By the time Cody walked into the bathroom sweat had broken out on his forehead. His hands shook. "Fuck!" He gripped the edge of the sink and stared at his image in the mirror. A chill ran along his spine and sent shards of tremor through his arms and legs.

He closed his eyes and lifted his head towards the ceiling. "Ah... I thought I was over this shit. Fuck off! Just fuck off and leave me alone!"

Beside him, a familiar face stared at him through the mirror. Cody trembled.

"How's life, Cody?"

"You're not real. Piss off. You're not real."

A sinister smile lit the image's face. A trickle of blood seeped from a wound in his forehead. "I was real."

Cody's head tore forward. He fell to his knees and lurched for the bathtub. A gush of vomit propelled from his mouth and hit the laminated panel. Cody sucked air in and out, in rapid succession. Spew slid to rest on the lip of the enamel tub and oozed towards the drain. "You're not real." He gasped back a sob. "Leave me alone, you fucking bastard. You're not real."

The cold chill ran through his spine again. He shivered and fumbled to turn on the tap. "I'm okay. I don't need that shit. It'll go away."

Max whined in the doorway. He came forward and nuzzled his nose against Cody's ribs. Cody turned, fell backwards and leaned against the wall of the tub. "Yeah, mate. I'll be all right. Just give me a minute."

The Labrador sat on his haunches and pricked his ears. Cody groaned. He gripped the sides of his head with his large hands. "I'm gonna be alright. Fuck!" He dragged in a breath. "I'm gonna be alright. Just need some sleep."

Cody's eyelids rippled as his eyes flicked backwards and forwards under their protection. Sweat beads swelled on his face. He groaned and gripped the sheets. Ghosts were back in his head.

"What about the others?"

"Yeah... yeah... I know." Cody stared at the blood on his hands.

"I'm dead."

"We're both dead." Cody dropped to his knees.

A face which looked like his own swam through the dark towards him. "You're not as dead as me."

"I may as well be." Cody stumbled to his feet and then staggered over dry dusty earth. "If you don't leave me alone, I may as well be."

"I'll leave you alone when you leave this shit alone."

"It's because of you I'm in this shit."

"I was well gone to another place before you fucked yourself."

Cody's jaw fell slack. He tumbled backwards and floated, suspended in a blue-black sky. He let his arms drop. They dangled like limbs of a tree. A stream of blood ran from Cody's forehead. It caught in the crease of his nose, spilt over his lip, and into his mouth. He watched his face fade and called after it, "I killed you. I kill myself. I'm sorry... okay..."

He woke in a lather of sweat, murmuring, "I'm sorry..."

Cody stayed in bed for two days and forced himself to feed Max. The bottle of Zoloft stared at him from the buffet. He snapped the seal, unscrewed the lid and threw the shit into the toilet. He hit the flush button and watched each white tablet get sucked away. "I don't need this crap. I'm done, no more of nothing. You hear me. No more..."

He showered and dressed, then headed to the shed and pumped iron for an hour.

The next day he worked on the chicken coop. When he finished, he stood with his arms folded and Max beside him. "Well, do you think I did a good job?"

The dog cocked his head, Cody crouched in front of him and rubbed his ears. "Next time I go to town, I'll buy some feed and stop at that place along the road where they sell chickens. You wanna come?" The dog pricked his ears at the command. Cody laughed. "Yeah, of course, you wanna come." He stood and slapped his thigh. "Come on then, let's go to your favourite waterhole."

The real estate had told Cody there were fish in the creek. He had never been into catching them. He stripped and swam naked. This was what he liked most about living isolated on his own. He could do what he wanted and didn't have to worry about other people.

When Cody went to bed that night, he read a bit of the vampire book. It didn't hold his interest. He wanted to read something raunchier to test the mechanics of his body since he'd felt occasional stirrings. He searched the bookshelf and found a Harold Robbins novel, The Storyteller. "Yeah," he said. "This is more like it, Max, plenty of sex and blow jobs."

After a quarter of the book, Cody tossed it on the ground and looked at Max. "Well, in case you're interested. That book sucks. Maybe it's me. The cheesy sex scenes and plot are boring. It's like a bad porn movie with no storyline." Cody blew out the lamp and slipped under the sheet.

He dreamt of a naked girl with long dark hair. Cody couldn't see her face, just her mouth. She ran her wet tongue over her bright red-painted lips. He looked at her as she knelt before him. "Yes... yes please," he whispered, hoping she understood that he wanted her to take him into her mouth.

Cody didn't care that she was bleeding. He wanted release. She licked the blood from the side of her lip, Cody's breath caught, and his body erupted. The girl disappeared. He gasped for air as he opened his eyes and stared at the dark.

He groaned, ran his hand over his stomach and laughed when his fingers dripped with a sticky mess. He sucked in air and let the euphoria he felt fill his soul. Cody Compton was functional, and all because of a pair of vampire red lips, trashy written sex scenes and a girl whose face he'd never seen.           

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