Vampires will never hurt you, chapter 3
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Six
As I woke, my stomach lurched. My fangs were still there, rubbing on the inside of my lip. As I opened my eyes, I was strangely comfortable. Warm, and relaxed. But all I could see was darkness. Complete. Pitch. Black.
After a few minutes of staring into the dark, my eyes began to adjust to the light. I looked right, and I saw a square of orangey streetlamp light, like I was lying on the floor in an alleyway. Frowning, I pushed myself up, and took a few nervous steps towards the light. I started walking faster, until my boot scuffed against what turned out to be a dumpster. It rang out with a deafening metallic clang.
Then a bright white light abruptly flicked on above me. A dog began to bark and growl, from the same apartment that the light had come from. I froze, and looked back. I felt as If I had been punched in the stomach, dizzy and nauseous. It seemed I had been sleeping in a murder scene. A body of a young girl was propped up against the dirty brick wall. Pale and bloody. I could see from where I was standing, two gaping holes in her neck. A icy wind whipped through down the alley and brushed hair from my shocked face.
I gasped and brought my hands up to cover my mouth in shock. My mouth was sticky, and cold. My mouth and chin was covered in some thick substance. Slowly, I brought my shaking hands away from my face, and held them out in front of me. They were covered in spatters of blood up to my elbow. I could now feel the clotted spatters on my face, and I could see it glistening on my black jacket and on my boots.
I felt like throwing up, horrified with what I had done. The blood that I drank from that little girl was what made me feel 'comfortable' and 'warm'. Most of the blood, I had obviously not managed to drink, as it surrounded the body like a huge scarlet rug. The owner of the dog above me was attempting to open her window to look out at what all the commotion was. I couldn't be seen. I simply turned and ran. Fast and hard.
I was terrified with myself about what I did that evening. I knew that I could no longer trust myself in the presence of human beings. But there was a small, hidden part of me, which felt proud, like I had achieved something. I had achieved my first kill, and I fed. What's not to be proud of there?
As I woke, my stomach lurched. My fangs were still there, rubbing on the inside of my lip. As I opened my eyes, I was strangely comfortable. Warm, and relaxed. But all I could see was darkness. Complete. Pitch. Black.
After a few minutes of staring into the dark, my eyes began to adjust to the light. I looked right, and I saw a square of orangey streetlamp light, like I was lying on the floor in an alleyway. Frowning, I pushed myself up, and took a few nervous steps towards the light. I started walking faster, until my boot scuffed against what turned out to be a dumpster. It rang out with a deafening metallic clang.
Then a bright white light abruptly flicked on above me. A dog began to bark and growl, from the same apartment that the light had come from. I froze, and looked back. I felt as If I had been punched in the stomach, dizzy and nauseous. It seemed I had been sleeping in a murder scene. A body of a young girl was propped up against the dirty brick wall. Pale and bloody. I could see from where I was standing, two gaping holes in her neck. A icy wind whipped through down the alley and brushed hair from my shocked face.
I gasped and brought my hands up to cover my mouth in shock. My mouth was sticky, and cold. My mouth and chin was covered in some thick substance. Slowly, I brought my shaking hands away from my face, and held them out in front of me. They were covered in spatters of blood up to my elbow. I could now feel the clotted spatters on my face, and I could see it glistening on my black jacket and on my boots.
I felt like throwing up, horrified with what I had done. The blood that I drank from that little girl was what made me feel 'comfortable' and 'warm'. Most of the blood, I had obviously not managed to drink, as it surrounded the body like a huge scarlet rug. The owner of the dog above me was attempting to open her window to look out at what all the commotion was. I couldn't be seen. I simply turned and ran. Fast and hard.
I was terrified with myself about what I did that evening. I knew that I could no longer trust myself in the presence of human beings. But there was a small, hidden part of me, which felt proud, like I had achieved something. I had achieved my first kill, and I fed. What's not to be proud of there?
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