“You don’t have a clue what’s happened to you, do you?”
There was something cold and menacing about his voice, as if there was some underlying threat in what he asked, something I did not want to know. I didn’t answer; just continued to watch him warily, feeling the loud beat of my heart filling my head with a rush of noise that made me think of the bright red timer of a bomb, ticking away to zero. Only what happened when the bomb got to zero, I had no idea but the prospect of the explosion, scared the hell out of me.
“Do you know what I am?” he asked.
“N-no. Y-yes. I don’t know,” I stammered, trying to concentrate on breathing in and out deeply.
“You do know. You just don’t want to say it.”
“I know what you did to me.”
“And what was that exactly?” That smug look again. That same infuriating, gut-churning smug look.
“You…you bit me.” The thought of it, of feeling his teeth pierce my skin, spilling my blood, made me want to vomit and yet thrilled me at the same time.
“Yes. Yes I did. And why would I do that? What am I?” He leaned forward and placed both hands on the floor, rising onto his knees and he began to slowly, carefully, crawl across the floor towards me. His movements were fluid, considered and there was something very animalistic about them.
“Stop,” I pleaded, my chest racked with laboured breaths. “D-don’t come any closer.”
“Then answer the question. What am I?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know. Please.” I edged along the wall, closer and closer to the hole. Throwing myself into the blackness seemed more tolerable than this.
“It’s not a difficult question. I bit you. I drank from you.”
Blood. My blood. Seeping out onto my skin and he was lapping it up, revelling in the taste on his lips.
The thirst was ripping into me again. Such terrible thirst.
No, not now. Please. Not now.
“So. What am I?”
I clutched at my stomach and clawed at my throat. I edged backwards until I was right on the edge. Maybe some great hellish tentacle would reach out and drag me into the abyss. I hoped it would.
Harper stalked closer still; his eyes glistening with pure malevolent blackness.
“You tasted so damn good.”
The pains twisted and consumed me. I licked my lips. I was burning up again.
“Stop,” I hissed. “Just stop.”
He was almost upon me now. If I reached out, I could fall upon him. Attack him.
He smiled. I saw his teeth again. Elongated and so very sharp.
Burning, burning, burning. With anger. With thirst. With want.
“All you have to do is say it.”
I groaned. Something between pain and desire.
He was right there. In front of me. I felt his fingers touch my bare toes and I wanted to recoil at his touch and wrap myself around him all at the same time.
“I know what you are,” I whispered. “You’re a demon. You’re a monster.
His eyes flashed and he moved his face dangerously close to mine. I felt his breath on my skin. Reaching out, he ran his thumb down my cheek softly, igniting the fuse and sending sparks exploding through me.
“No, Megan. You’re the monster.”
I stared at him, wide-eyed and breathless. And I knew. I knew.
Copyright (c) Lindsey Clarke 2013