First Bitten: Chapter 6

“Alex?”

“Hmm.”

“Wake up.” A strong hand gently shakes my shoulder.

“Go away, Eddie. I’m tired.” I roll away from his hand, stretching my stiff legs out.

“Alex?”

I sigh loudly and roll back over, forcing my sleep-laden eyes open. “Eddie, for God’s sake–” My words catch in my throat because it’s not Eddie my eyes meet with, it’s Nathan. Of course it is. I’m not at home; I don’t have a home anymore. I’m not me any more, and Carrie’s gone, forever.

The present slams back into me with all its ferocity. The relief sleep offered is no more and the loss of Carrie consumes me all over again. Tears insistently spring to my eyes.

Nathan looks down at me curiously, his green eyes almost luminous in the dusk light. “You okay?” he asks.

I manage a nod as I press my lips together and attempt to swallow down my grief. I’ve cried enough in front of him already. I don’t want to cry again.

But it’s not working. My eyes are swollen with the tears, top lip quivering, chin wobbling. I hold my breath. But a stray tear trickles out from the corner of my eye, snaking its way down my cheekbone, and the feel of that one single tear breaks down all my defences and the grief engulfs me, and there’s not a single thing I can do to stop it. The pain is so intense I feel like my chest is being crushed.

I can’t breathe.

Clutching a hand to my chest, panicked, I sit bolt upright and crash straight into Nathan.

“Whoa, take it easy,” he says, taking hold of me by my shoulders, but I can’t focus on him, or anything. My whole body is shaking, tears streaming down my face.

“Alex, you need to calm down.” Nathan takes a firm hold of my chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing me to look at him.

My eyes flicker back to the now, and when they meet with his, I’m surprised by the intensity I find there.

“Take slow, deep breaths,” he says. It’s not a request.

Knowing he’s got my attention, Nathan slides his hand from my face but stays sitting where he is, which is mere inches from me, so close I can smell his aftershave.

I know he’s only trying to help me but his nearness and fixed gaze are making me uncomfortable for reasons I can’t explain.

I break away from our stare and look out through the window behind him. Red is commanding the sky tonight. It disappears under the remaining clouds, drifting into a soft shade of pink. What is it they say: red sky at night shepherds delight? It really is a beautiful sight. I know it is. I just can’t even begin to appreciate it. How can I ever allow myself to appreciate something when I shouldn’t be the one here to see it? There’s a blackness inside me now coating everything. I already had a gaping, hollow place where my heart should have been – my parents dying saw to that – but now Carrie’s gone, well, whatever was left went with her.

I shut my eyes and take a deep calming breath, forcing my frantic mind and body to still. “I’m sorry,” I utter, as my breathing slows to something close to normal.

“Don’t be.” He moves up the bed putting space between us.

I watch him with interest as he pushes his hair off his forehead and lets out a light sigh. “I’m sorry I had to wake you but it’s time you fed. You should have fed earlier but I didn’t think it was wise to suggest it with the state you were in, and I know you’re far from great now, obviously, but it’s been far too long and you need to feed.”

I tilt my head and stare at him confused. “What do you mean, ‘I need to feed?’.”

He frowns for a fleeting moment. “Feed, you know, on blood.”

A chill runs through me, cutting into my bones. I wrap my arms protectively around myself. “Blood? What are you talking about?” The words practically dribble out of my mouth.

Nathan mirrors me, folding his arms across his chest. I see the muscles flex in his forearms. “You’re a Vârcolac now, Alex. You’re part vampire, therefore a blood drinker. I thought you would have realised … ” He peters off, and I’m assuming it’s because of the look of absolute horror on my face.

My mouth forms the words to speak but nothing comes out.

He unfolds his arms and shakes his head. “You didn’t realise?”

My brain is failing. I’m half expecting it to start trickling out of my ears.

“You need blood,” Nathan says in a careful voice. “Well, you’ll crave it. I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long already without feeling any urges. You can still eat food, Alex, but basically blood is your sustenance, for want of a word.”

My body’s gone numb. I dig my nails into the skin on my arms, just to try and feel something. Taking in a big gulp of air, I attempt to still my erratic heart. My mouth’s gone dry, and the words are gloopy as they leave my mouth. “You’re saying I need to drink blood to stay alive?”

He nods. And I feel sick.

“That can’t be right,” I stammer, holding back the fast rising bile. “You must be wrong. You’ve gotta be wrong.”

As I clutch at straws, Nathan shakes his head empathetically. “For your sake I wish I was, but I’m not.”

Something inside me clicks and then I know what’s happened here. I get it. I almost laugh out loud with relief. I’ve finally cracked and have had a nervous breakdown. With everything I’ve been through over the years it makes sense. I’ve stepped out of reality and into a dream world that I’ve created. That’s it. I’m currently in a dream world, just like Alice in Wonderland, except I’m not in Wonderland, I’m in Horrorland. Actually it’s more like I’m trapped in a Freddie Kruger film. Now all I need to do is find a way to get myself out of this never-ending horror story and back to normal.

“If you don’t feed,” Nathans continues, snapping me back to the now, “it’ll make you do things you wouldn’t normally do to satisfy your hunger.”

The sound of his continuing voice against my ears is abrasive. I feel like nails are been driven into my skull.

This isn’t real. I don’t want him here. I don’t want to be here anymore. I want him to stop talking. I don’t want to hear any of this anymore.

I cover my eyes with my hands, thumbs pressing over my ears, blocking out the sound of his voice.

This isn’t real. This isn’t real.

It’s just a figment of my over-active imagination. I’ve always had wild thoughts, usually ideas of grandeur, not sick and twisted scenarios like this but …

Nathan grabs hold of my arm, yanking my hand away from my face, polluting my ears with his words again. “Have you been listening to a fucking a word I’ve said to you?”

Anger quickly takes me over. I peel my other hand away from my face. “I heard enough.” I scowl at him.

“You haven’t heard the fucking half of it,” he chastises me. “You think I’m telling you this for my health? I’m trying to help you, Alex, and you need to pay attention to every single fucking thing I tell you from now on because I’m telling you these things for your own good, to give you a fighting chance of staying as near to human as you possibly fucking can.”

“You swear too much,” I observe, coolly.

A smile ghosts his face. “Yeah, and you’re impossible to talk to.”

I look down at my hands. Deep down I know this is real and what he’s saying is true, and not just that I’m impossible to talk to, but that he’s only trying to help me.

Also, knowing I have no way out of this horror that is now my life, I tilt my chin up and force myself to ask, “What will I happen if I don’t have … blood?”

“You’ll turn on people to feed. You’ll kill, without meaning too.”

My stomach drops through the bed. “And … how long before that would happen?” The words shiver out of me.

“Not would, . It’ll be about another day max. Soon the hunger will start to take over and you’ll turn into someone you would never wish to meet, worse than the fucker that did this to you because it’ll be your first feed and you’ll be hungry. You’ll be like a junkie searching for a fix who will do anything to sate that need. But unlike the average junkie, you’ll be stronger, quicker, sharper and driven purely by the hunger. In the end you’ll be out of control, unrecognisable. And that’s when I’ll put you down.” He links his fingers around his knee and leans in close to me. His hot breath scorches over my skin. “It’s something I’d rather not do, Alex, so it’ll be easier all round if you just listen to what I’m telling you and drink this.” He reaches down, retrieves a flask from the floor beside him, and holds it out for me to take.

Ignoring him, I close my eyes and start to massage my temples in a rhythmic motion.

I don’t want to do this. I feel trapped. I hate feeling trapped. I’m in this whole other world now, a world I have no comprehension of, a world I don’t want to have comprehension of. But what other choice do I have?

I open my eyes. Nathan still has the flask in his hand but now it’s resting against his knee.

I reach out and take it from him. “What’s in here?” I ask, nerves apparent.

He sighs impatiently. “Blood.”

I look at him sharply, tired of the sarcasm that comes naturally with him. “I know it’s blood, I’m not a complete idiot,” I snap. “I meant whose blood?”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Yours?” I cringe.

He throws his head back and laughs, a slow, dry laugh. “No. I should have said it’s animal. Even though human blood is your natural craving, you can survive on animal’s blood, it’s just not as good for your needs. You’ll require to feed more often than you would with human blood.”

My body goes rigid with anger. “Should have mentioned!” I shriek. “Are you having a fucking laugh?! I think it’s a pretty important thing to tell me!”

He leans back on the bed, levelling our eyes. “You swear too much.” A pirate smile lurks around the corners of his mouth.

I hunt for a smart reply but take too long and lose my chance. I’m caught somewhere between hot and cold, with no comeback. I can feel the anger reddening my face.

Biting on the inside of my cheek, I look down at the flask in my hand. Knowing there’s animal blood inside has calmed me a bit. Don’t get me wrong, the thought of drinking animal blood is disgusting, but not as disgusting as the thought of drinking blood that has come from another human being.

“So … this is animal blood?” I lift the flask up.

“Pigs.”

I cringe. The poor pig.

“You’re lucky we live on a farm,” he adds. Getting up, he goes over and switches the light on, flooding the room with brightness. “You’ll have an endless supply of it for the duration of your stay.”

“I’m on a farm?” I ask, my eyes following him as he sits down in the only chair in the room.

Oddly, I hadn’t even thought about exactly where I am, but then. I have had other things on my mind.

Nathan’s eyes roam my face curiously. “You couldn’t tell from the smell?”

I shake my head.

He scratches his temple. “Have you noticed any differences in yourself at all?”

I know it’s a loaded question but still I have to ask, “Differences?”

“Increased sense of smell, better hearing, sharper eyesight, an increase in your strength,” he ticks off.

I shake my head again and bring my knees up to my chest, hugging them.

“Try now,” he says, leaning forward in his seat.

“Try what?”

“Your sense of smell. Inhale and tell me what you get.”

I give him a look.

“Just humour me,” he pushes.

So I do. I close my eyes and take a deep breath in through my nose.

I can smell his aftershave again. I focus harder, trying to smell more, then suddenly it hits me and I can smell everything on him just as clearly as if he were sat here on the bed pressed up against me. I can smell the natural earthy smell of him, his aftershave – cedar wood and ginger, the water on his skin from his recent shower, the subtle scent of the soap he washed with. I can even smell the remnant trace of the foam he used to shave with. He shaved. I hadn’t noticed.

I open my eyes to find his already on me. I let my eyes drift down to his smooth chin. “Stubble suits you better,” I say without thinking.

His eyes flicker surprise. He rubs his hand across his chin.

“I could smell the shaving foam on you,” I add, a flush rising up my neck.

“What else?” His eyes hold mine with a surprising amount of depth.

“Cedar wood and ginger from your aftershave, water and soap.”

“Try again,” he urges. “Reach your senses out further.”

I do as I’m told.

Inhaling past his scent, I let my senses roam further. Then I catch the distinct smell of manure, fresh cut grass, and rapeseed. Rapeseed. The smell reminds me of home and I start to ache inside for all things familiar.

“What else you getting?” he asks. His deep voice soothes over my skin almost intimately, taking the aches away.

“Cut grass,” I utter. “Manure and the scent of rapeseed as clear as if I’m standing in the field with it.” I’m desperately trying not to think how off the charts this actually is.

Slowly I open my eyes back up. I find Nathan’s eyes still fixed on me. I swallow down, nervously.

“It’ll probably all be a bit overwhelming for you at first,” he says, “but you’ll soon get used to it.”

That’s it? Gee, thanks for the lesson, Nathan.

Suddenly feeling the need for fresh air, I rest the flask down on the bed, clamber off and, go over to the window and open it up wide. It lets in a welcoming blast of cool night air. But the second it’s open, all I can hear is the sound’s of owls hooting, crickets chirping, mice squeaking, even insects scuttering around the ground. I guess my hearing’s kicked in too. Wonderful. The sound’s are like ticks in my ears. I slam the window back shut, frustrated, and rest my forehead up it.

“Am I still in Hackness?” I ask, my tone grumpy, my breath fogging up the glass.

“No. You’re in Wykeham. It’s only about ten miles away from … ”

“I know where Wykeham is,” I cut him off shortly.

An unexpected thought pops into my mind. I turn around and lean up against the window ledge. “What were you doing out in the woods the night you saved me?”

“I was out running,” he responds without hesitation, his expression instantly blank.

His answer’s too quick. He’s hiding something.

“Pretty late to be out running,” I observe.

“I like the night.”

“Why Hackness woods?”

“Why not?”

“Surely there are places around here to go running?”

“There is,” he answers unblinking, “but I like Hackness, its quiet.”

That’s bullshit if ever I’ve heard it; everywhere in this region is quiet.

I keep my steady eyes on him as I curl my fingers around the edge of the window ledge. “How do you know all this stuff about Vârcolacs again?” I hedge my bets.

“I never told you the first time.” His smile is all fox. “Drink the blood and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.” He nods in the direction of the flask on the bed.

I give him a long look and walk over and pick the flask up off the bed. I take it back over to the window with me and rest up against the ledge again. My fingertips edge around the cool metal. I look down at it. There’s blood inside here. Pig’s blood. And I’m going to attempt to drink it. Yes, I know just how insane this is.

With a resigned sigh, I pull the outside cap off the flask and place it down on the window ledge. Then I take a deep breath and very slowly unscrew the lid. At the exact moment of release, the smell floods my nostrils. Sweet and sickly, like honey, it swims into my mind and body, coating my insides.

A sudden, new and unexplainable hunger consumes me. Saliva floods my mouth. I feel an ache there too and another ache deep within me, a need – no, a want – from a part of me I didn’t even know existed. My heart’s beating faster, my pulse is quickening. My veins feel like they’re pressing up against the thin veil of my skin. Every orifice of me is crying out for this and then suddenly nothing else matters. I’m consumed. I’m moving the flask toward my mouth. The cool silver touches my lips. My tongue tingles in anticipation. I tilt the flask upwards but it clangs awkwardly against my teeth. Confused, I put a finger up to my mouth. My finger catches on my tooth, my incisor. It’s longer. It feels sharp. I touch the other one. It’s the same. Oh God, are they … fangs?

Panicked, I look over at Nathan. “Have I got fangs?” I can’t say the words without feeling sick. Oh God, they’re catching on my lip as I speak. I cover my mouth up with my hand.

He nods. “It’s a natural reaction for you when you’re around blood,” he says mildly.

I feel anything but mild.

“I can’t do this,” I blurt out, panicked. I hold the flask out away from me like it’s a bomb that’s about to go off any second.

Nathan comes over to me. “Yes, you can.” He holds my eyes as he pushes the flask back toward me. “You have to.”

I look from his face to the flask, and back up at him again.

“The fangs will retract once you’ve fed.” He gives me a firm look of encouragement.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes.

I pinch my nose and throw back the contents.

It tastes exactly as it smells, sweet. And I feel good. Eased. Better than I’ve felt in a long time. It’s kind of like foregoing the sex and just heading straight for the orgasm.

But now it’s done and the lust has gone, and I’m just left feeling dirty.

Then realisation hits. I start gagging. I thrust the flask into Nathan’s hand. Pushing past him, I head straight for the bin. Leaning over it, gripping the edge of the desk for support, I start retching. I retch until my throat starts to burn but nothing comes up. It’s almost as if my body doesn’t want to part with the blood. And that thought only manages to make me feel worse.

“You okay?” Nathan places a glass of water on the desk beside me. I didn’t even realise he’d left the room.

I nod and wipe my hand over my mouth. Nathan’s right, the fangs have retracted. I didn’t even feel them go. Too busy trying to throw up, I guess.

I pick the glass of water up, rest wearily against the desk and drink it down in one go.

“Why don’t you get a shower, clean yourself up,” Nathan suggests, gesturing to the chest of drawers over to the right of him.

I see sitting on top of the drawers a towel, wash bag and some clothes, which oddly I’m only just noticing for the first time. I wonder when he put those there.

I nod my agreement. “Where’s the bathroom?” I ask.

“Door straight across the hall.” He jerks his head in the appropriate direction. “Come downstairs when you’re done.”

Nathan turns to leave and lifts his arm, rubbing the back of his neck, and that’s when I see the lump in the back waist band of his jeans. My eyes close in on it, and don’t ask how I know, but I just instantly know what it is.

Fear clouds my judgement and I can’t hold my tongue even if I wanted too. “That meant for me?” There’s a clear edge to my voice.

Nathan pauses and turns half back, glancing across at me. He reaches behind him and pulls the gun out of his jeans, holding it up in front of him.

My body goes rigid with nerves.

“I didn’t know how you were gonna be when you woke up,” he says in an even tone. “I didn’t know how you would react to the blood when I gave it to you. So, yeah, it was meant for you.” He lowers the black shiny gun. “But only if you made it the case.”

The temperature in the room suddenly chills and the hairs on the nape of my neck stand on end. He fixes his eyes to mine, pinning me to the spot. There’s a darkness there that sends a shiver hurtling down my spine. “And I’ll use it in the future without a second thought if you ever force me to.” He tucks the gun back in the waistband of his jeans and, without another word, disappears out the room.

I exhale, realising I’ve been holding my breath the entire time. My whole body starts to tremble.

Collecting myself, I slowly walk over to the chest of drawers on unsteady legs. I see there is a pair of dark blue skinny jeans and a T-shirt. The T-shirt is white with a picture of a black bow on the front. There’s also a pair of Converse trainers. I never wear trainers. And there’s also a matching white bra and knicker set. All of this stuff is new. It still has the tags on. Nathan has bought me underwear. I don’t know how I feel about that. I check the size on the bra – 32D. My size. How did he know exactly what size bra to get me? Then I know exactly how I feel about it as a deep eerie shudder runs through me.

I gather all the clothes up, leaving the trainers behind, grab the wash bag and head straight for the bathroom.

It’s not until I’m safely locked in the bathroom when I realise Nathan never answered my question about how he knows about Vârcolacs. I feel a flash of annoyance.

To be honest, I really could do with a shower. It’s apparently been days since I last had one and I’m starting to smell like a builder’s armpit. And I need to brush my teeth, and my tongue. Well basically scrub clean the whole inside of my mouth.

I locate the light switch and turn it on. Seeing the window is open, I cross the bathroom, the tiles cold and unwelcoming beneath my bare feet, and close it.

Dropping my stuff onto the floor, I look around the bathroom. It’s generic: a white toilet, sink and bath, with a shower over it. The tiles on the floor are black. The walls are painted a light green. There’s a white shower curtain hanging over the railing and a green bath mat hung over the side of the bath. There are a couple of different bottles of men’s shower gels and shampoos sitting on the corner of the bath alongside a blue sponge.

In the toothbrush holder there are three toothbrushes, which I take to mean Nathan doesn’t live here alone. Everything in here looks like men’s stuff, not a womanly product in site, which also means if there are other people living here, they aren’t female. Not that it would matter either way.

Maybe Nathan lives with his dad and brother. He did say they were with him looking after me after the attack, and that they were the ones who got rid of the Vârcolac that attacked me and Ca …

A sharp pain stabs me in my chest taking my breath with it. I lean up against the wall. A clotted sigh escapes me as a tear rolls down my cheek, followed in quick succession by another and another. I roughly wipe my face. The silence echoes all around me. It’s haunting.

I walk over to the sink and run the cold water tap. Cupping the water into my hands, I press it to my face, washing my tears away. I grab my towel from off the floor and wipe my face dry.

Everything’s gone. In the blink of an eye I’ve lost everything I cared about. And I’ve only got myself to blame.

I just drank blood. I have fangs. I’ve been turned into a freak, a complete and utter freak. I feel all wrong; dirty and violated.

I don’t want to be like this. I want to be normal again. I gulp back my tears.

Moving away from the mirror I go and turn the shower on, turning it up hot. Steam quickly rises, cocooning me. I pull the T-shirt off, ignoring the scar that brands me, climb under the water, and attempt to scrub the ‘hideous’ from off me.