Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 112849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Least I think I am.
How long have I been here?
“Mom?” I say but my voice sounds foreign to me. I don’t see her anywhere. I turn my head to see her coming toward me with a bag of blood in her hands, the fridge door open showcasing a row of blood bags and my brother’s beer.
“Hey sweetie,” she says. “It’s time for your first sip.”
I swallow, suddenly painfully thirsty, my throat as dry as a desert. My stomach gnaws at itself like I’ve got a ravenous beast inside me, eating me from the middle.
She stops beside me. “There you are,” she says brightly as she smiles down at me.
“What happened?” I ask, looking around the room, though my attention is brought right back to the blood in her hands.
“You went through your first stage. You know. The lusty one. We thought you would have broken through the restraints already and gone for the blood but you haven’t yet. That’s okay. That’s a good sign. Means you didn’t get a chance to trash the room. Your hunger is more civilized.”
I stare at the blood in the bag, the rich crimson.
She holds out a pill. “Open your mouth.”
I do so and she places the pill on my tongue.
“Chew.”
I chew. It tastes like fake cherry, a taste I used to tolerate but now it makes me want to vomit. But if I don’t have it then I won’t be nourished by the blood and since it will be my first feeding, it’s extra important.
“Good girl,” she says. “Now I’m going to untie you and give you the blood and leave you be. There’s more in the fridge there if you need it.” She leans over and kisses my forehead while undoing the leather straps around my wrists. “I am so proud of you.”
Then she leaves the room rather quickly.
I slowly sit up. I feel like I have the world’s worst hangover and I ache between my legs. I know that I was restrained, so I hadn’t done anything to myself and this is just a leftover from days of being in the lust stage. Thank god I don’t remember any of it.
As for the rest of me, I do feel different. My skin is extra sensitive, my eyes, my senses feel like they’re working overtime. But I couldn’t say I feel like a vampire.
I eye the bag of blood beside me.
No, this is what will bring that feeling on.
I take a deep breath and then pick up the bag.
I raise it up above my head.
Weeks ago I would have looked at the blood in disgust.
Now I see it as a gift from God.
I open the valve, put it to my lips and drink.
It hits my tongue and my entire world changes.
I was expecting the usual taste of blood, the metallic pennies in your mouth thing. And maybe it does still taste like that, but suddenly having a mouthful of pennies is the most delicious thing I have ever tasted. It’s all I ever want, for the rest of my life.
I drink and I drink and I drink, the blood flowing down my throat, filling me but not filling me, and I’ve almost drained the bag when suddenly my head explodes in a flurry of stars and pain.
I scream. “Fuck!”
Drop the bag and grab my head, my fingers digging into my scalp.
Is this part of it?
Is this—
But my own thought ends in my brain because suddenly I’m flooded with a million different images, all of them awful, all of them bringing me pain.
I see myself on the ground, staring at a crowd of soldiers holding back someone I know is my lover, while my father brings a sword down on my neck.
I see myself lying in bed with a big belly and covered in blood, staring into the dark eyes of the man I love.
I see myself in that same man’s grip, his face contorted in rage as he drains the life out of me.
I see all my deaths.
The deaths of Mina.
Lucy.
Dahlia.
I remember everything.