There’s no pain any more. Strange that. I can feel the gaping hole in my neck, hear the wind whistling through ruined pipes, but it doesn’t hurt. That’s a blessing I suppose. Oh God, the blood, so much, how can so much blood come from one person. My arms, gore gauntleted, lie by my sides. I’m propped up against the sofa in our tiny lounge, its floral gold and green now scarlet and mauve. Eastenders is on the telly. I don’t watch soaps normally but I can’t feel my fingers to change the channel.
Jen’ll be home soon. I feel a tear roll down my cheek. She shouldn’t see me like this. We loved each other so much and now she’s going to lose me. My tears are for her loss not my own death. I can feel it numbing me and almost welcome it. I should have fought harder, you always think you won’t go without a fight but I did. But they were so strong and so fast and now I’m bleeding to death with Dot bloody Cotton. I’d laugh but I get the feeling that my breath is precious.
This is Manchester for Christ’s sake not the fucking twilight zone, this shouldn’t be happening. I’ve got to hold on. Jen’ll be able to help me when she gets back. Just have to hold on. Stay awake. Keep breathing. In and out and in and…..
Shit. I passed out, how long? Can’t really focus on the screen but I can still hear Dot’s cigarette rasp.
So fast, how can they be so fast and strong? I recognised one of them from the pub. He’d stood out from the usual crowd, he dressed well, proper designer stuff no gaudy labels we’d chatted about things. He was funny, and at some point I’d said he should come over for a game of FIFA one night, I guess he took that as an invitation because suddenly there he was in my front room, switching my telly on. Flicking through my cd’s.
I open my mouth to say something but before I even inhale I feel myself lifted and thrown to the floor from my repose on the couch, my book flies from my hand, a ‘rough guide to anatomy’ spinning in slow motion. Through the shock of sudden motion and impact with the floor I look up and see the girl, she’s tiny, flame red hair, vintage leather jacket and dead eyes. I’m flying again and feel my shoulder loosen from its socket at the wrench, until now I’ve made no sound except for the percussion of back on floor. With the dislocation comes the first intimation of pain and I scream but my mouth is already covered by her alabaster hand and I’m slammed back down. Something snaps, a bone or a floorboard, either way pain flashes up my spine. Then she’s astride me and for a crazy moment I think she’s going to kiss me but as she bends in I see her teeth and my only thought is ‘Vampire’ and I know I’m dead.
It’s only her that feeds on me; I guess that’s what vampires do, feed. All the while he just sat there head to foot in Armani, watching, and crazily, with her teeth in me and hand on my mouth, I’m getting turned on. Even as I can feel my life pumping into her, I want her.
In a blur of movement he’s over us, ripping her from me, a half grin from him, a low moan from her and they’re gone. So fast. Less than five minutes to shatter my life and leave me to try and stem the flow.
No strength left to hang on. Just want to sleep, I’m barely breathing, vision fading. I hear her come through the open door. My name catches in her throat when she sees me. She cries out and runs to me, her uniform staining red with the last of my blood and from the way she cradles me I know there’s nothing that she can do. Her nurses training tells her what mine told me minutes before. I try to tell her I love her and it’s ok but don’t have the breath.
I stop breathing, my vision flashes bright with my last heartbeat and everything is beautiful, the colour of blood and tears, my fiancé’s skin and the smell of her, a glimpse of Armani and a half smile behind her and I realise something.
I’m hungry.
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