Bitten

My lungs dug deep for air, as the unendurably sharp pain jumped to and fro each nerve in my body, feeling almost like a lightning bolt as my muscles tensed. My neck burned like fire, my veins pumped strongly, andmy heartbeat pulsed in my head. My hands, then, shook gently as shock overtook me. The whole of my body tingled and ached, as the firm grasp of cold hands clutched my shoulder and neck, holding me in place, making any attempt at escape futile.
   I felt my very lifeblood flow from the two, small ruptures of my neck.
   Cold lips were pressed against my pulsing wound, drafting my strength from me. My eyes lost their focus, the world around me blurring to no end, growing weaker by the moment. The grasp of the cold hands was the only thing keeping me upright. Suddenly as my breaths came as jagged as glass, and cold invaded the deep of my dulled senses, I felt a falling sensation. I grew weightless to the world for a moment, before the harsh reality of gravity struck me down, the cold lips parting from my exhausted veins, leaving me there, alone. I felt a cold not of this world, not of this existence, lay it’s ice-cold hands on me, willing me and pulling me to cross over. I lay on my elbows, staring down at the wet asphalt, trying to recollect myself. My heart ached, and labored at pumping what wasn’t there anymore. The scenario of what had just happened evaded me, my mind thought that my senses were lying. I was so confused. Chaos. My mind screamed to me to keep going, to keep going and get away, but I was too weak to carry on. My elbows gave beneath me, letting me down to the cold, soothing ground, making my lips form a small sneer as I could feel the cold soothing my locked muscles. I couldn’t move, I could hardly breathe, or think.
Amidst the sounds of the night, I heard the light boot steps of someone
approaching me. Only one who was so close to death could have heard the echoes, as I could. My eyes stung as if fire, as I turned them up to
see who was approaching. Who, or what. I only saw two blurs of black,
too faded and unfocused to let my eyes perceive any detail. My body
became limp. I had either passed out, or fallen asleep. I couldn’t
decide which.
When I woke, my body burned. My skin felt aflame, my muscles felt as if they had laid dormant for centuries, and had atrophied. My throat felt
unbearably dry. It hurt to breathe. I felt horrible. My eyes wouldn’t
focus, but I could see that I was in a small room, staring at the
lamp-lit ceiling. It was either night, or the shades were very thick.
Slowly, my vision returned to me, but I had no will to look. I felt as
if I had died and come back, wielding the scorching fires of hell
itself.
I saw a shadow move from the doorway to my right, and reveal the
profile of a man. He wore a black-leather trench coat, reaching down
just above his ankles, a pair of black jeans, black boots, and some
kind of swat vest beneath it, that I couldn’t focus on. The man,
himself, seemed like a character from someone's cliche imagination. He had long brown hair, and a smooth, rather generic face. He watched me out of the corner of his eye. I had no reason, nor will to move, but I could feel the gentle tingling of my hand as the circulation was cut from my wrist. On my hand, a pair of handcuffs restrained me, one cuff on my wrist, the other on the bedpost. I tried to move, but instantly stopped, as my body became stone. I couldn’t move, my muscles had locked.
“Whh...” I groaned, my sickly dry breath rushing through my mouth.
“Shh.” He said, quieting me. “Don’t talk. Don’t move. You need to
recuperate. Go back to sleep.”
“Wh... what hap... happened?” I growled out my voice, trying to talk.
“... I’ll explain later.” He said. He strode to the table opposite of
me, and picked up a small syringe, filled it with a cobalt blue liquid,
then approached me, with a serious expression on his face. “Don’t
worry. This will make you feel much better.” He said. With that note,
he took my hand with the handcuff, held my wrist, and dug the needle
into the first vein he saw, then slowly let the contents spill into my
blood.
The sensation that came first was heat. It made me almost sweat. It
slowly grew hotter, like a spice in your mouth that grows worse, the
more you eat. I groaned quietly, then louder, as it started to sting,
and burn. My veins felt aflame. I whimpered in pain, as my skin felt as
if thousands upon thousands of needles were jabbing into me, at random, again and again. Finally, after the short torture, my body loosened, the pins stopped, and cold invaded my veins. The drowsy, relaxing feeling made me sigh lazily. The coolness of the drug made me start to fall asleep. It was too much to resist. My eyelids became heavier and heavier, and finally closed, but I remained awake.
I must have laid there for what felt like an eternity, staring at my
closed eyelids, not thinking one single, solitary thought. The pain I
had known was now but a dim memory. I felt perfectly all right, save
for a little cold. My wrist was still restrained, but now much looser,
not stopping the flow of blood to my hand. After the drowsiness left
me, I slowly sat up as best I could, trying to adjust my vision of the
world. My eyes revealed images to me, slightly blurry, but I could
still see. A few blinks allowed my sight to focus. I was in the same room, still. I pulled gently at the handcuffs, but it
didn’t come loose. On my chest lay a note, with rather sloppy
penmanship. It read, “Morning. Try not to open the shades. B.” B? I
wondered what this letter stood for. I flipped the note over, and saw
more script. This read, “Left a present for you in the bag. Enjoy.” My
eyes slid up from the note, to see a small black duffel bag sitting on
the table, across from my bed. My imagination started running,
inventing things that may be in the bag. Maybe it was a bomb, maybe it
was clothes, or a gun. It could be anything. It was sealed from here,
and I couldn’t reach it. I would have to find a way to free myself. I
tried to slide my hand free from the cuffs, but my hand was too large
around to fit through. Crushing my thumb and pinkie together, then
tugging hard slipped it through, but left a rather nasty cut on my
thumb. I put my other hand on it, to keep it from bleeding, but a
sharp, metallic scent came to my nose. My senses and attention perked
at the smell, and I could only wonder what it was. I didn’t know.
I sniffed once, then again, trying to find the source of the smell, the
intoxicating scent. Shortly, I discovered that it was coming from my
own hand. I uncovered my shallow wound, then sniffed it. A shock of
pleasing, sharp scent forced its way into the deepest parts of my
senses, sending a rush of want, and needs through my mind. I looked
down at my wound, then covered it up, wondering what had happened
to me, for I smelled blood. Blood was a scent too weak for any normal man to perceive, yet I could smell it, pungent as much to cause me almost to choke. My stomach ached as I took in this scent, not from nausea, but of… I dare not think it.
I stood on shaky legs, using the bed as a support as I let myself
recuperate, and allow me to stand on my own. I slowly strode to the
duffel bag, and stared at the black zipper. I grabbed it, slowly, then
pulled it along its metal track, revealing the contents of the bag.
Inside, alone, was a small bottle, unmarked. It was a dark glass wine
bottle, with a cork in the top, and a corkscrew resting beside it. The
only thing else was a note that instructed me to look into the mirror.
I looked to the bathroom door, with a questioned look. The man that
had helped me must have been leaving these notes, and the bottle. My
imagination yet again ran, inventing and teasing what kind of purpose
looking into the mirror would hold.
I took the bottle, then slowly opened the door to the dark bathroom. I
flicked on the light, shielding my eyes from the unnaturally bright
lamp, then walked into the bathroom as my eyes adjusted to it. I looked to my right, and there was but a wall. To my left was the mirror, but something was freakishly strange, and unsettling about it. I had set
the bottle down on the counter before I had seen the mirror, and I
could see the bottle clearly in the reflection. The only thing missing
was... me. As I stare into the mirror, no one stare back. No image, not
even a hint of a shape. Anything behind me, I could see well through
the mirror, but I had no reflection. Just a trick. I thought. I picked
up the bottle, then waved it around, and surely enough, the bottle
moved, as its reflection did, flawlessly. It was no trick. No image of
me did the mirror reveal. Not a ghost’s shadow of me. Deep in the pit
of my stomach, this frightened me. I put my hand against the mirror,
my mind racing at this horrid fact.
I ran the water in the sink, and cupped some in my hands. My eyes stared down into it, and yet again, no eyes, no nose, no face. There
was the reflection of light, from the overhead lamp, but not me. I
dipped my face into the water, then pushed it all over my face, then
leaned against the sink, staring at the swirling water. I turned off
the faucet, then wiped my face clean with a washcloth. I grabbed the bottle, then pulled the cork out as I walked into the main room. Apparently I was in some kind of motel room. Again, the pungent smell attacked my senses, but aroused them at the same time.
The same smell that had emanated from my hand, flowed freely from the bottle’s mouth, almost luring me in. I gently put the bottle to my
lips, then tilted my head back, taking a small sip of a sample. The
taste, so indescribable. Sharp, and metallic. It slid across my tongue
like a liquid feast. Something deep in my mind screamed aloud when the beautiful taste hit my tongue.
It was cold, and smooth, like thick water. My head tilted more and more
back, as my body quickly started aching for it. I kept drafting the
liquid from the bottle as if it were life itself. Suddenly, the bottle
no longer spurted the liquid my body so ravenously desired. I let the
last few drops drip into my mouth, breathing fast as the fire in my
belly made me shake, and ache for more. In a fit of instantaneous rage, I threw the bottle against the wall, with a loud shatter. The last few remnants of the liquid splattered on the wall, and dripped down. The dark red of the liquid shot through my mind. It was Blood, I craved. It was blood my body needed, and wanted. I felt as a puppet, a servant of this thirst. I was being ordered to find more.
As my tongue traveled across my lips, to get the last of the exquisite
taste, it slid across something incredibly changed. My teeth. My canine
teeth were now almost uncomfortably large, and sharp. I slid my tongue up and down the length of my fangs, then slowly slid my eyes to my left, to look to the door. My body voraciously ached for blood, for the feast of life, and I was no one to restrain it. I slowly strode to the door, then slid my hand onto the cold doorknob, and turned the handle as I pulled it open. A rush of heat, blinding white hit me at an instant, forcing my eyes shut, and my head to turn away. I slammed the door shut, leaning my weight against it as I bit my lip to contain the unmerciful anguish upon my flesh. Eventually, the pain of it dissapeared. I kept my back to the door, as I thought to myself, quietly. He wasn’t kidding. I thought. I shouldn’t have opened the door. I knew better. I breathed a quiet breath through grit teeth, staring into the room, then again played my tongue on my new fangs. Vampire. I thought. Sunlight is deadly. I was lucky to be as quick as I was. I hadn’t noticed how undeniably drowsy I felt. Even though the sun was at it’s peak, I felt as if I had stayed up for days. I shuffled, weakened, to the bed, then threw back the covers, took off my shoes, then laid down on it, and pulled the comfortable covers over me, head and all. Almost at an instant, I fell asleep, and dreamt of nothing.
When I awoke, I awoke to the growling and aching of my stomach. I
opened my eyes pushing the blanket off of me and sat up, only to be met with the horrible pain of tightened muscles, as my stomach locked up and made me lurch over, horribly. I growled and winced in pain as I tried to loosen myself, but my abdomen wouldn’t budge. Eventually,
though, it loosened, and I was allowed to breathe again. The thirst was
far worse than I had first imagined. I felt like I was wasting away. I
coughed violently, trying to get up, then finally forced myself to
stand, and maintain. I strode to the door, hoping it was night.
As I opened the door, a rush came to me. Not of heat, but of cold. The
deep cold of midnight wind. The soul-peircing feeling of the wind. The
cold was welcome. I did not feel it in my bones, only upon my skin,
gently caressing it. I opened the door more, then stepped outside,
closing it behind me.As I stand, on the step of this doorway, a smell passed by my nostrils.
A smell that had been engraved in the deep of my vampiric senses. A
long draft of the sweet air brought my senses to sharp attention. A
shudder ran down my spine, a tingle in my stomach. I knew what I
smelled. As I breathe in the enticing aroma, my senses scream to me:
Run... Hunt... Feed.
Were it not for my concentration, they would have overtaken me. My
senses and instinct now had a powerful hold on me. As a human, instinct can sometimes take over, but now if I let my guard down, just a little, I could do something terrible.
I shook my head gently, getting the thought out of my mind, before
looking at my surroundings. I was in the city, on a block I’m not
familiar with. The dark of the night, and the silvery moonlight, shone
through the streets, and asphalt. I knew where the scent was coming from... and I would pounce. I walked along the sidewalk, following the ever-stronger scent, my heart picking up in pace, my breath almost shaking. I was getting closer.
I crept into the dark of the alleyway between the buildings. The scent
was quickly growing stronger to my nostrils, filling them, taunting me
and teasing me to no end. My instincts started to animalize, and to my
dissapointment, materialize. They were tightening their grip on me. In
the dark of the alley I saw something, someone. A woman. She had long, straight blonde hair, wearing a black jacket, and blue jeans.
I felt my instincts finally overthrow my logic as I stare at her, my
feet slowly moving one in front of the other, creeping ever closer to
her. My footsteps were silent on the ground, as I approached. I could
smell her scent on the air. A sweet, clean smell. My eyes focused, then
refocused as I approached. She didn’t seem to be moving. She had
headphones on, but was merely standing there. My lips parted a little,
allowing more breath as I crept closer, my need, the insatiable thirst
coming stronger with the promise of reward. My fangs were bared; My
body, tensed. A bead of sweat could have shattered the prescious
tension of the moment.
I slowly reached my hand out to grab her shoulder, but just as I had
started, she turned! She turned a complete half-turn, to face directly
at me, catching me off guard. She stare at me, as I quickly recoiled,
wrapping my lips around my protruding fangs. I stare at her still, my
heart thumping powerfully in my chest. Adrenaline was flowing through
me, freely.
She stare at me as if she knew me, somehow. I knew her. She was an old friend of mine. A long-ago friend. She smiled as she recognized me.
“...What are you doing here?” she asked, oblivious to my previously
animalistic acts. She hadn’t known how I crept up on her, nor did she
notice the oversized weapons of my innate curse. I stare at her
strongly, yet blankly at the same time. In my mind, I contemplated what it was I should do. Should I strike? Should I speak?
The thoughts overflowed and overwhelmed my mind, causing me to pause, and stare still. Her expression changed from one of happiness, to confusion. She was confused with my silence.
“... are you alright?” she asked.
Her voice snapped me out of my pause, and caused an automated response in my synapses. “Yes.” I said, bluntly. I watched as her eyes widened at my exposed teeth, when I spoke. She had almost screamed, before I acted.
With speed, yet grace and carefulness, I swept beside her, and behind
her, wrapping my hand onto her mouth, the other on her wrist, keeping
her quietly, my prisoner. My jaw shook gently as I was so close to her.
The scent was powerful, my instinct and thirst overthrowing my
thoughts. The woman protested loudly through my hand, and moved harshly trying to escape my grasp. Finally, the synapse struck. My muscles locked, and my mouth opened. My teeth, fully bared, readied for thier warm reward. My neck forced the weight of my head forward powerfully, driving my fangs into her neck like two sharp nails, my gums feeling the warm rush of metallic beauty coming from the wounds. I retracted my fangs from the wound, then wrapped my lips around it, drafting and swallowing her lifeblood, as she shrieked, kicked, and fought more, screaming into my hand.
Time became nothing. All that existed was the thirst. My eyes slid
heavily shut as I drafted more and more from her wound, her quickly
becoming quiet and finally, limp. Her body fell limp in my hands, as I
still drew what my body infinitely wanted. I went to my knees, lying
her down, still locked onto her generous veins.
Finally, as her veins pumped nearly empty, I let go of her for a
breath. A powerful, clean, sweet breath rushed into my lungs as I
turned my head to the sky, an instant alleviation from the burning of
my thirst. I felt a few drops of blood travel from the corners of my
mouth, down my chin and neck, but I didn’t care. I let my head fall
forward, then looked down at her, as her eyes were closed, and her lips
were partway open. I gently laid her down, then stare.
I had done the unthinkable, the unimaginable, the despicable. I had
caused harm to a woman. Worse yet, I had forever forsaken my god-given humanity. I had given in to the beast. Sorrow, now, overtook me. I felt incredibly sorry for the sin I had just committed. I wiped my chin and neck clean of the weakness, then bent slowly over, and gently touched her lips with mine, then looked at her face, again. She was a beautiful woman. She was such a beautiful woman, but now, I had soiled her pristine life, by giving her my sickness, my curse; sharing with her my weakness, my horrible thirst, to which there was only one remedy. Only one.