The Human

  My captor moved his hand to my wrist and led me around the nearest corner to a waiting car. “I forgot to lock the door.”

  That answers that.

  His eyes stayed on me the entire silent ride. The tension was suffocating. If he knew where I was all this time, why wait to come get me? And if he didn’t, how did he find me? Someone wouldn’t go to this effort if there wasn’t a lot of money on the line, but who’s paying? And why? I looked ahead or out of my window to avoid his gaze.

  The trip ended at an unfamiliar driveway and his renewed grip on my arm ensured I got out of the car with him. Is he going to keep me somewhere else, now? He switched back to holding my hand as we walked away from the house and around the corner. Same place – his apartment complex was about a block down the road from where we were dropped off.

  He didn’t let go of me until his front door locked behind us. “Do whatever you need to do in the bathroom. It’s gonna be a while ‘til you can go again.”

  This is going to be bad. But, how bad? While in the bathroom, I heard him searching his cabinets, and several drawers opening and closing before the noise stopped. I wasn’t in a hurry to find out what he had in store for me, but I knew I also didn’t have the luxury of stalling.

  When I came back out, he’d already hung a rope over a low beam in the center of the living room.

  “Come here.”

  The fuck is he going to do with that? Why would he bring me all the way back here just to hang me? I slowly approached him and he pulled me to him in the last steps, my back to his chest.

  He took his time frisking me. After he checked my pockets, he swept his hand down the front of my clothes. His hands paused over my crotch and he gripped my dick through my jeans. “Hiding something in there?”

  I winced and gritted my teeth; I didn’t like when he touched me anywhere, but that was the last place I ever wanted his hands to be.

  He unzipped the hoodie and tossed it in the chair. My shirt, shoes, and socks went next, then he tied my wrists together with one end of the rope. He used the rope to lift me until I had to stand on my toes to reduce the tension it put on my arms, then tied it to keep me there.

  So, not a private hanging. Yet, at least.

  He checked my back pockets before he removed my pants. His thumbs hooked into the band of my briefs next. “These, too.”

  I was naked in the middle of his living room. I closed my eyes while I prepared for the hours ahead. It was around midnight now, at the latest. When does the sun come up these days?

  The sound of wood dragging across the tile floor got my attention; the man pulled over one of the side tables and a white box now sat on top. The label on the side said ‘HYPODERMIC DISPOSABLE NEEDLES.’ I hoped something else was in there, but was disappointed; he pulled a needle from the box and uncapped it while he circled me. Fuck.

  “I couldn’t exactly put up flyers, but I put a lot of effort into finding you.” His aggression filled the little space he kept between us.

  I flinched as something touched my lower back, then realized it wasn’t the needle but plastic – either the cap or the other side of the needle. He quickly followed it with a stick in the upper back, this time the needle’s tip. Once removed, my warm blood hit the cooler air and trickled down my skin.

  He licked it off, like you would with an ice-cream cone as it started to melt. This vampire, if that’s what he was – or what he wanted to be, was drinking my blood. Again.

  He quickly found another place to stick. After a few more smaller pricks, he stopped in front of me. The tip of the needle pressed against my left cheek and his eyes locked on mine, almost warning me of what was to come. He slowly pushed the sharp through the layers of skin, still popping through the other side with enough force that it sunk into the side of my tongue.

  I gasped and his hand moved to my right cheek, rubbing it as though he was trying to distract me. With his other hand, he grabbed the next needle from the box. How many more are in there?

  He found another place to stick. “I’ll stop when you beg.”

  I’m not giving you the satisfaction. It would have to be a long night for both of us.

  My legs trembled. I stood flat for as long as my arms could take being pulled by the ropes, then returned to my toes. Back and forth. Hours had passed and he’d stuck me almost everywhere at least once.

  His tongue always followed to intercept the trail of blood that rolled down my skin. Dozens of the needles were left in me from my cheek to my feet. He was talking to me but his voice seemed so far away. Every few breaths I shifted my weight for just a moment of less discomfort. Counting those breaths became the loudest voice in my head.

  “Mm, last one.” His tone shift caught my attention and he inserted a needle near my ribs.

  I looked up at him as he stepped back. Is this finally over? I closed my eyes again but could hear him shuffling around nearby.

  He cleaned the floor that surrounded me and dragged the table fully out of my reach. The sink in the bathroom ran for a long minute. He returned to stand in front of me, his body pushing against some of the needles.

  I drew a sharp breath and I opened my eyes, his inches from mine.

  “I can take all of these out now if you want.”

  This. This is what I expected during the first week I spent here. He would be offering relief in exchange for my cooperation.

  “And you can sleep on the couch.”

  The couch, how tempting. I won’t give you a fucking thing.

  “Did you tell anyone about me?” His eyes were fixed on mine again.

  I angrily stared back. That’s what you’re concerned about? That I might’ve talked?

  “Did you tell law enforcement?”

  I almost laughed at the thought of involving the police in anything.

  “Are you law enforcement?”

  And that was even funnier.

  “Did you tell them what I am?”

  Do you mean, did I tell them you think you’re a fucking vampire? Would they believe me?

  “Did you tell them where you were or how to get here?”

  I told Charles what he needed to know. For my team’s sake, not yours.

  “Anything you want to say?”

  Go fuck yourself.

  “See ya tonight, then.”

  Before he went to bed, he loosened the rope enough that I could stand flat on my feet; I was still confined to the same spot, unable to do much more than shift my weight or carefully jump in place. Every time I moved, I put pressure on one or more of the needles.

  My mouth was dry and I was getting hungry again. Maybe I should have begged him to stop. Those questions could’ve been answered without anyone being put at risk, but what precedent would that set?

  Exhaustion eventually won. I don’t know how or when, but I fell– and stayed– asleep until that evening.

  I woke up while he was removing the needles; he licked the marks they created as though applying a liquid bandage. My legs were still trembling and they buckled under me as soon as he gave the rope slack; he held me against him while he freed my arms.

  My limbs tingled numbly then flooded with painful static as full circulation returned to them. I bit my lip hard and breathed deeply through the pain; my body betrayed my efforts to hold myself together as the shaking spread.

  He lifted and carried me like I weighed nothing; I didn’t want him to touch me but I couldn’t find the energy to be angry. He left me on the toilet and I sat there for several minutes with my eyes closed. It sounded like he was making something in the kitchen, soon confirmed by familiar smells.

  He came back for me when he was ready and carried me to the stool at the corner. A fried egg sandwich was placed in front of me and it actually looked delicious. He handed me the meds and drink.

  These again. What is he giving me? I should’ve looked them up while I had access to a computer.

  “You can rest after you finish everything.”

  I stared at the drink reluctantly but took a sip. The punch-flavored water was ice cold and felt nice going down. I popped the meds in my mouth and quickly finished the drink. While I was thirsty, I didn’t remember it tasting this good before I left.

  He refilled the cup with water while I started on the sandwich.

  I didn’t feel that undefined thirst or hunger still gnawing at me as I finished eating. This stupid drink is what I’ve been craving the entire week.

  When I finished, he brought me to the bed.

  I was so sore. It was daylight and his arms and legs were wrapped around me like I was a body pillow. I still had nothing on and he felt naked this time, too. Ugh, I’d take another day with the rope over this.

  I moved my body as far from him as I could in the little space he gave me and tried to get comfortable; that movement was enough to wake him up and he pulled me close again.

  We both eventually went back to sleep.

  It was night when I woke up, alone. I made my way to the kitchen and the drink and meds were waiting for me, as was routine. The past two weeks might as well have been a dream, I was back in the same waking nightmare. I checked the front door: locked. I knew it was stupid to think he’d slip up again so soon.

  The knife block still sat on the island. I pulled them out to examine them one-by-one; they were nice and well kept for someone I’d never actually seen eat. Why would he leave these out after what I did to him? After everything he’s done to me? I imagined myself sinking every blade there into some part of him, but went with the boning knife.

  I took the meds and drank the drink. Nothing in the refrigerator seemed particularly exciting. I grabbed a package of lunch meat and cheese and ate slices of each until I was almost full, then finished my ‘breakfast’ with a banana.

  I stood in front of the bathroom mirror while I waited for the water to get hot. Spots of dried blood painted my skin like freckles but the needle punctures were imperceptible. My legs were already shaking from standing so I cleaned up quickly.

  There wasn’t a clock or watch in the apartment so I could only estimate the time. It was probably two or three in the morning when he returned. I quickly hid the knife under the cushion of the chair and straightened in my seat as he stumbled through the door. His shirt was torn and a mix of blood, glitter, and other colorful substances were streaked across his face, chest, and clothes. He made his way over to the couch and flopped on it face down.

  “Are you drunk… or-?” Shit, don’t draw attention to yourself.

  He was clearly some combination of drunk and high, and was rubbing his face and body on the couch. “All of the above,” he caroled, drawing out the vowels.

  He rolled onto his side so I was in view. I sat on one of the chairs and instantly disliked the roguish way he looked at me. He liked eye contact – I didn’t – and always spoke to me as though he expected I’d immediately do as he said, and seemed briefly surprised, if not frustrated, when I didn’t.

  “Come here.”

  I don’t want any part of this. “I’m good right here.” I knew I shouldn’t say something that might provoke him into acting on whatever thoughts were going through his head.

  He adjusted himself so he was sitting. “You’re ‘good’ where I tell you to be,” His semi-playful tone became flat and direct; his body language adjusted to match.

  We both got to our feet at the same time. I didn’t have time to grab the knife and I had nowhere to go, but I certainly wasn’t going to step toward him. He drunkenly staggered over to get me before he teetered back to the couch; the only relief I had was that he didn’t drop me or fall on the way. He laid me down on the couch and climbed on top of me. His hair brushed my neck and chin while he rubbed his cheeks on my chest, and he eventually settled with a sigh. I could deal with it if this was all he wanted, but I was doubtful.

  “You spent the first night and day here on this couch.” It had been wonderfully silent for a few minutes before he spoke. “We were laying just like this for a while.”

  We. This one-sided arrangement was a game to him and I was confined within it. I couldn't play by his rules; they weren't shared with me and he kept changing them. But, I could reasonably assume he was baiting me with his choice of words and that made it a little easier not to bite. It was tempting, but he’d want to make me regret it; it was better that I didn't respond at all.

  “I almost killed you again the next night.” He seemed intent to keep going until he got a reaction, and reacting to him in any way rewarded his use of this method. I hated this game and I hated him. “We weren’t sure how injured you were, so I thought I’d spare myself the inconvenience of you surviving permanent injuries,” His words, his emphasis on these words, all intended to provoke me.

  And, there’s the ‘we’ again. A different kind of we, this time. Did I have it wrong when I told Charles he wasn’t working for anyone? It didn’t make sense; if he was under orders to keep me specifically, I wasn’t being leveraged for money. I wasn’t being asked for or about anything sensitive, even indirectly. His questions last night had nothing to do with anything but his own security. I was just stuck here. With him. Like a pet.

  He draped an arm over my chest, startling me from my thoughts; he used his arm as a place to rest his chin and forced eye contact with me again. I quickly looked elsewhere.

  His body shook over mine with his silent chuckles. “People typically don’t find me boring.” He was trying his best to sound hurt but his amusement was obvious.

  I’m not bored, I just don’t want to be here.

  He leaned forward until his lips brushed my neck, my body involuntarily tensing in response. His breath tickled my skin as he whispered, “I want you to know I was this close.” He lingered at my neck and I prepared myself for a possible bite.

  After a moment passed with just his breath on my skin, I broke the silence: “What keeps stopping you?”

  He laughed and finally got off of me, getting to his feet. “Don’t be in such a hurry to find out,” he said, heading toward the bathroom.

  Once the door closed, I let out a deep breath that I didn’t know I was holding. The shower started so I assumed he’d be in there for at least the next ten minutes.

  I sat up and leaned against the back of the couch; my body started to tremble again as the tension eased. I closed my eyes and waited for this to pass, still painfully exhausted from his twisted version of a “Welcome Home” party.

  It was still quite dark when I opened my eyes, so I assumed I hadn’t slept for long. His chest made light contact with my back but I otherwise had some space. I didn’t remember leaving the couch but we were in his bed. Did… he carry me? I closed my eyes again and tried to go back to sleep.

  “Morning.”

  Ugh, no. I didn’t want to be in his bed while he was sleeping, and even less when he was awake. I left the warmth of the covers for the bathroom. I planned to take my time; the sun would be coming up soon and he’d want to sleep then.

  Were I to be captured like this, I’d always hoped I’d be killed quickly if there wasn’t a way out. I couldn’t expect him to make another mistake that would let me escape again, or think I could get away forever if I did. I’ll be here until he gets bored or I become too inconvenient. And, when that time comes, he won’t let me go; he’ll dispose of me. Until then, he’ll make me suffer.

  As I took a step toward the sink, my legs wobbled when my weight shifted; the far wall seemed to stretch away from me and the door now appeared as though at the end of a long hall. The air in the room became thick, like a limited amount of oxygen was being vacuumed from the room through the space beneath the door. I need to get the door open before I suffocate; I need the air on the other side.

  The room snapped back to its usual size but the walls now expanded and contracted – like a lung. I faced the mirror and the door was just behind me, it just had to stay there where I could reach it. I’m about to die, like the night he bit me and I passed out in the car. Just let it happen, end it now… The need for air was more powerful and pushed me toward the exit; using the wall and counter as support, I grabbed the knob and swung the door open.

  He was waiting on the other side. The last fucking person I want to see. His arms slipped beneath mine and he pulled me in. A hand rubbed my back and the other held my head against his chest.

  I couldn’t tell if this was helping or making matters worse; my body had started the involuntary trembling that was now common around him, and I was all too aware of how hard my heart was working at the moment. It felt like it was growing in my chest with each beat and stealing the room my lungs needed to expand.

  It’s happening. I was late on my last dose. I’ve been under so much stress, can that affect the medication? I’m going to die just like my parents did.

  He worked my shirt off – I didn’t have it in me to protest. “Do you normally have panic attacks?” he asked, pulling me back in to resume his petting.

  “...no.” I don’t panic. I’m not panicking. “I need to go!” I tried to push my way out of his arms. I don’t want to die like this in front of anyone, especially you.

  He lifted me and held me tighter as he carried me back to the bedroom. “You need to get control of yourself before you get hurt.”

  I was placed on my side, facing him, with the covers draped over me. I continued to try to slip out of his grip and he adjusted around me, tangling his legs with mine. I was suffocating from the inside and now his arms felt like they were constricting around me like a snake. My breaths became short and rapid as I struggled for air.

  He didn’t know I was dying or he’d be trying to prevent it by now, only so he could prolong this torture on his terms. You can’t anymore, it’s too late for me.

  And I was too tired to keep fighting him. So… I stopped. This can finally end.

  As I waited for death, I counted the times his hand went up and down my back. His voice echoed softly over my breaths. He was counting, too. “…. two… three… four, and hold. Two… three… four. Out through your mouth… two… three…”

  I started to match his instructions, unintentionally; the pressure in my chest began to subside and I was able to draw in longer, deeper breaths. Maybe my final moments will be peaceful…

  “Gotta go, I’ll eat you if I stay here any longer.”

  I jolted awake, slowly coming to the disappointing realization that I was still alive. Still trapped in this apartment with you. Fuck…

  He slowly unwrapped the limbs that kept me tightly cocooned in the blanket. The covers became displaced when he started to turn away from me, unsealing my soft chamber and letting the cold air in. The bed shook as he froze in place.

  “Don’t move.” His words were uncomfortably direct.

  Beneath the command was a tone I’d never heard in his voice. Concern, maybe? Is that even something he feels? But I remained quiet and still, waiting for whatever came next. It couldn’t be worse than the last hour, right?

  He slowly finished sitting up, the bed starting to shake as if he were bouncing one of his legs; one of his hands gripped the mattress inches from my knee. “I… hm…”

  Is he struggling for words? That’s a first.

  As another tense moment passed, it seemed more like he was in the middle of an internal battle, fighting himself for control.

  “I should have left earlier,” he finally said.

  Whether this statement was to himself or to or me was unclear. But I finally get it, I think. He found me again the second night when I looked entirely different, and at The Diner despite it being disconnected from any of my identities, by my scent. He’s not a hired goon that saw me following Tannenbaum, or a PI of sorts looking into affairs at The Diner. He’s actually a vampire, not just someone living that sort of lifestyle. He hunts humans because he needs our blood and he hunted me down until he found me again at The Diner.

  A fox couldn’t keep a rabbit as a pet without eventually eating it, and a rabbit in distress would trigger the fox’s prey drive. He wasn’t trying to prevent me from hurting myself earlier. I was the rabbit in distress. He wanted me to calm down before he hurt me and was actively trying to stop himself from killing me now.

  But I was never going to get away from him, and I didn’t want to wait for the next stressor to actually kill me. “Do-”

  “Quiet,” he cut me off.

  “Do it.”

  This violently snapped whatever flimsy mental strap he was using to hold himself back and he was quickly at my neck. This bite was just as painful as his first, and equally as precise. This is my way out. He’ll finish the job this time, surely.

  The room was deathly quiet; just my breaths, my heart, him swallowing my blood. His beard tickled my skin in a way that wasn’t unpleasant. He still smelled like fresh earth, and something sweet, like a wild berry. Every place our skin made contact started to tingle. Did it feel like this the first time he bit me? Maybe I was too focused on trying to survive to notice. Doesn’t matter.

  Time seemed to be passing so slowly but I could finally feel that heaviness settling over me…

  I woke with knuckles pressed against my chest, rubbing aggressively; my eyes opened and met his in the mostly dark room. “Ah, good.” He spoke unceremoniously, like someone who finally spotted their car in a packed parking lot.

  No… No, no, no…

  He handed me a plate, a drink, and meds. “Eat fast, we need to leave for a bit.”

  I can’t keep doing this. Just let me fucking die.

  The Vampire

  The door closed behind us and I scanned the street. My phone would vibrate when our ride was parked. I grabbed Marcus’s arm and kept them close.

  “I forgot to lock the door.” I make mistakes, I’ll acknowledge that. This was a mistake I won’t repeat. I hope.

  We started around the corner and my phone vibrated as a car pulled to a stop. I confirmed it was ours and we got in the backseat. Marcus moved over to the other door and I gave them their space for now.

  It was truly impressive how calm they were under the circumstances. To most they must seem so boring and plain but their indifference to others, to themself, was fascinating. How much could they handle before they broke? I wanted to make them feel anything.

  Then everything.

  The car stopped around the corner from the apartment and I held Marcus's hand hostage the rest of the way back. They were always so warm. They didn’t fight me, they knew better. I was angry, that wasn’t a secret. Angry at myself for getting attached, for forgetting to double-lock the door. Angry at them for leaving, which I knew was irrational. But, I didn’t tell them they could go. You’re mine. And back with me, now, where you belong.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Do whatever you need to do in the bathroom. It’s gonna be a while ‘til you can go again.”

  I used this time to look through what I had on hand in the apartment. I found a large rope in the back of a lower cabinet. A good start. The rope’s weight was helpful when throwing it over the thickest ceiling beam.

  The bathroom door slowly opened and they cautiously stood in the doorway.

  What are you waiting for? “Come here.”

  I grabbed their arm once they were within reach and impatiently helped them close the gap. I started with a quick pat-down their front and made a point to ensure they weren’t concealing anything in their groin. “Hiding something in there?” Another knife to stab me with, maybe? Nope, just their cock.

  I took my time working them out of their tops so I could gather their arms behind them and secure their wrists together with the rope. I didn’t want Marcus to have too much freedom so I pulled the rope tight from the other end. I gave the rope an extra tug and they shifted their weight to their toes. Too tight? We’ll see.

  I slipped my hands in their back pockets and found them just as empty as the others. No wallet, no phone. How were you gonna pay for your meal tonight, naughty? I know what I liked to do with dine-and-dashers at my restaurant – track them down, do a little dine-and-dashing of my own. I closed my eyes briefly while I imagined using this rope to tie Marcus to their dining room table. I’d sit at that table, like a guest. Open their femoral artery… Not now. But, I was sure to revisit this tonight.

  I tugged their jeans down their legs; Marcus was down to their underwear and I had a good look at their body. They seemed slightly heavier than when they left, but it didn’t look bad on them. A thought came to mind, and for that I’d need to… “These too.” I slid their briefs off.

  I hurried to our bedroom and removed a box from under our bed. It was full of various medical supplies The Doctor left with me while Marcus was unconscious, including a nearly full box of 14-gauge needles. I only needed a few of these but once they saw the whole box they’d know I was serious.

  What a sight when I re-emerged from the room: the rope supported them like an easel would a canvas. Their body had many light scars and my bite was the latest in their collection. Tonight I was a painter and these needles were my brushes. I’m ready to make art.

  I thought, just as I had the first night, that they may have slipped through my fingers forever. Unlike the first night, I wasn’t gonna give up this time. “I couldn’t exactly put up flyers, but I put a lot of effort into finding you.”

  They didn’t care.

  I dragged one of the tables closer to Marcus and placed the box down. I just needed one needle, for now. I paced as I thought. Where should I start? How far will I go? I wasn’t sure how they would react to the needle so I tried the cap first. I lightly touched their back and the muscle reflexively twitched. In my other hand, I took the needle and pressed the tip in a little higher, then removed it; Marcus’s blood created a large bead that started rolling down their skin once it got too heavy. I caught it with my tongue and followed its path back up to the mark I made. I wanted to feel their blood filling my mouth, to really taste them, but I’d go too far if I bit them tonight. My saliva healed the first spot so it was time to find another.

  I repeated my previous steps to their shoulder, their hip, their neck. They were largely unphased so I made sure my next target would matter. I held the needle against their cheek and looked into their eyes; they briefly widened as I’d seen them do before, so quickly I’d have missed it if I blinked. They knew they wouldn’t like what I was about to do. We maintained eye contact as I shoved the needle through their cheek. Their sharp inhale let me know this one hurt.

  I wanted to hear them make that sound again. To be the reason they made that sound. I rubbed their other cheek – should I give it a matching piercing? What other sounds will they make for me tonight? Just for me; I’ll kill anyone that hurts them.

  I made a show of getting the next needle, loudly wiggling my fingers in the box before I picked one. I gave a shallow poke just below their collarbone, my eyes returning to theirs as their blood welled at the surface. “I’ll stop when you beg,” I offered, but Marcus withheld.

  I let myself get carried away by their refusal to tap out. How long would they let me go? All night, it turned out. Their body looked like a push-pin travel map. It wasn’t inaccurate, I’d been to all of those places tonight. They became less and less reactive to the needle in even their more sensitive areas. Early in our encounters, I remembered thinking they’d taken self-defense. Maybe their training was more specialized than I thought.

  I tried to keep their attention by telling them about some of my adventures while they were gone. I didn’t want Marcus to know everything I knew, but I wanted them to expect that I’d find out. They were getting tired; even the most stubborn of people still had a limit.

  “Mm…” One needle left, better make it count. I looked them over and found a place that seemed a bit lacking, and immediately sank the needle in. “Last one.”

  That got their attention. Their green eyes met mine and I looked back into them, still unable to grip their subconscious. This would be so much easier for you if you’d just be compliant. Either way, I was having a good time. I gave them some time to be with just their thoughts while I cleaned up.

  The full picture was remarkable: they’d become a human pincushion, covered in drips and splatters of their own blood. I was careful enough with the placements that I didn’t hit anything major, but their blood still filled and dripped out of a few of the hubs. I want to save this image in my mind forever.

  I approached them and leaned in. “I can take all of these out now if you want, and you can sleep on the couch.” I hoped they’d take the offer. Cooperate.

  Their eyes stayed on mine. I knew they were at least listening, and so my questions began.

  “Did you tell anyone about me?”

  Marcus stared at me. Their heart beat a little faster; it wasn't a no.

  “Did you tell law enforcement?”

  The corner of their mouth twitched, as if they were trying to suppress a smile. What part of this question amuses them? This could be a yes – they could be expecting someone to come get them this time. Or…

  “Are you law enforcement?”

  Their scoff, and the slight way their whole body seemed to relax, told me the last two questions were in the wrong direction. If he told anyone about me, it wasn’t an official report. Good.

  “Did you tell them what I am?”

  No change.

  “Did you tell them where you were or how to get here?”

  Nothing. Either they found a way to suppress their reactions or they kept their yap shut.

  “Anything you want to say?” Ask me to take you down. Say something to me.

  They remained silent. If I didn’t follow through, my words were meaningless. I made a few adjustments to the rope that would get them through the night, but they otherwise had to live with this choice.

  “See ya tonight, then.”

  I headed back to our bedroom and undressed.

  They wouldn’t be in here with me so I stripped down to nothing. The scent of their blood was heavy in the air, the taste still on my tongue. Underneath that was their own floral scent, and I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it. Missed them.

  I hurriedly dressed and checked on Marcus; they were out. Out out. It was impressive that they found a way to sleep at all. The needles needed to be removed before I could safely take them down, so that’s where I started.

  The punctures were quick to bleed as the tip of each needle came out, and I was just as fast with my tongue. Their weight shifted when they woke up and disrupted the balance of their current pose. I worked a little faster to remove the remaining needles then loosened the rope, already prepared to catch them as their legs were too fatigued to hold their weight.

  I held them close while I undid the knots that bound their wrists together; they wouldn’t be able to walk yet, so I picked them up once they were free. They seemed at least ten pounds heavier than I remembered. Was this their normal? Had I let them starve when they were here last? Marcus’s body shook as I carried them; their heart beat quickly and they took short breaths. Not fear; not once have they been afraid of me. They were in a lot of pain. I dropped them off in the bathroom to give them the privacy to take care of whatever they needed while I fixed them something to eat.

  All of the vegetables and most of the fruit had gone bad in their absence and I tossed those in the trash. I grabbed an unopened package of sliced cheese, two eggs, bread, and butter. I picked off a few spots of mold that started growing on the best looking slices and threw out the rest of the loaf. The finished sandwich was set on the island next to today’s dose of their meds.

  The Doctor said they’d need to stay on these while they were with me; had going off them when they got free caused them harm? I made their drink, adding as much of my blood as I was giving them when they left, then a little more. I added some mayo to the bread and mixed in a few more drops before I spread it.

  I helped them off the toilet and transported them to the stool in the kitchen. “These first.” I placed their meds in their hand and pushed the drink over. “You can rest after you finish everything.”

  I cleaned up while they ate and took them to our bed when we were both done. They fell asleep immediately.

  I had a few things I wanted to take care of tonight.

  I swung by the complex on Meadowbrook. A car was missing from the lot but everything otherwise seemed intact. My bike was still in the apartment I’d stashed it in, untouched.

  I drove back toward The Diner on 8th to scope out that neighborhood on foot. Marcus had no keys, no phone, no wallet. How did they get there? The bus was an option, but they’d have to have paid exactly enough to take it – they weren’t carrying a pass. They hadn’t paid when I got there, so even if they paid for the bus, they didn’t bring enough to buy food. No ID, either; two weeks was enough time to replace the one they left behind.

  This suggested they lived close; the apartment that I didn’t believe he actually lived in was a walkable distance but they were staying somewhere else. Somewhere else nearby. Again, no cash to pay. Did they work there? I couldn’t imagine they’d be in the kitchen – a server, maybe? I couldn’t go in and ask, but if they did work there, it would already be suspicious enough that he left with me then went radio silent. Was this a brand new job? Or were these older connections that Marcus may have told something about their time with me? I’d wait for someone to clock out and leave; they wouldn’t give me the same trouble I had getting Marcus to open up.

  One of the servers clocked out around ten so I didn’t have to wait long. He exited through the front entrance with a bag over one shoulder. If he drove here, he’d be parked a bit away or in a nearby parking garage, the street parking in front of the business would be reserved for customers.

  I followed him for a minute before I got his attention. “Sir, one of your zippers are open!” I just needed him to turn around.

  He stopped and glanced at me briefly before he checked his bag. He was annoyed when he looked back up and I had him as soon as his eyes met mine. “You want to help me. I have a few questions for you.”

  “Yeah, of course, whatever you need help with.” I don’t remember them from last night but it doesn’t mean they weren’t there.

  “Do you remember me from last night?”

  “No?”

  “I think I met one of your coworkers. Marcus? The person with the long hair, usually braided?”

  “I know who you’re talking about. He doesn’t work there but he’s always there. He was gone for about a week, though.”

  So, a regular. “Doing what?” Did they tell him where they were?

  “I don’t know. Vacation, I think? When he’s there he only talks to Peach and eats a lot of pie.”

  “Who pays for the pie?”

  “I’m sure he does? Peach doesn’t talk about him.”

  “Where were you going just now?”

  “The bus, it picks up around that corner,” he gestured. I locked him in again.

  “This conversation didn’t happen. I stopped you because your bag was unzipped. You fixed it then kept on to the bus stop.”

  “Thanks! If I lost anything for work it’d come out of my next check.”

  I released them. I needed to talk to Peach but I didn’t have the right questions tonight. Were they friends? A couple? Regardless, she spent enough time with Marcus that she’d know everything I said when I picked them up the other night was bullshit.

  Robbie was at Jonestown so I stopped by for updates. We discussed some of the issues that were passed along through text and I ate before I left. I was eager to get home and check on Marcus.

  They were exactly where I’d left them. Did I go too far, or was Marcus especially fragile? I hadn’t spent this much time with any human since I turned, and that was for the best.

  So, why them? I couldn’t influence them – every word they said was their own and any reaction I could squeeze out of them was at least genuine. They knew what I was and that didn’t scare them, didn’t change how they interacted with me. Yet, I want control, want to see their fear. I felt compelled to sabotage the exact qualities I found fascinating; I like that they challenge me and then I punish them for doing it. How fucked up is that?

  I went through the fridge and tossed out anything else that looked or should be bad then ran the trash down. A few hours ‘til daybreak. I pulled my laptop from the safe, connected my phone to it, and did some research.

  There was an abandoned property a few blocks over that I was interested in, though I hadn’t finalized what I wanted to do with it yet. I emailed some price limits and questions to a local realtor I worked with to get that process started, then checked in on other projects that were in the works. There was a lot in motion but I had all the right people on it. When I was done, I returned the laptop and phone to the safe together – the phone connected to a charger within it – then showered.

  I glanced over at Marcus while I sifted through my drawers for something to wear to bed. They still hadn’t moved from the position I placed them in. I abandoned my search; why should I have to wear anything if they’re not?

  I preferred the side of the bed closest to the door but I’d have to move them over if I wanted it. They became used to that side the first week they were here, anyway. I entered from the other end and joined them under the covers. They were on their back; I slowly slid an arm beneath them and carefully turned them to their side while I tucked their body back into mine.

  Moving them almost woke them; I kept still while they stirred but they stayed asleep. They still smelled like their preferred combination of scents – their shampoo, their body wash, their laundry detergent. They smelled like their blood. And their own lavender scent, which came through stronger than did the night before and had started to mix with mine.

  The back of their head was tucked against my neck and I gently rested my cheek on their crown. They were mine and should know it as certainly as I did. I bit my finger like I did when preparing their drinks and smeared my blood on the inside of their bottom lip. I ran my fingers down their throat and they swallowed in their sleep.

  Their tongue met my fingertip after I continued for a few more rounds. Do you want it? I slid my finger down the center of their tongue until it was completely in their mouth, then slowly pulled it back out. I returned with more and they welcomed me back in, sucking the blood from my finger until it healed.

  Ah fuck… I rubbed myself behind them while I fed them more and revisited the fantasy that I started drafting last night: they were tied down to their dining room table and I’d be standing over them, fucking their mough while I fed from their thigh.

  I thrusted my finger in their mouth like I would my cock until I came on their lower back.

  The bed was moving. Bathroom? Getting up to grab a knife? I kept my tired eyes closed until they decided. They were just scooting over for space but I wasn’t ready or willing to let them go. I sucked them back into my grip. Mine.

  I was up at sundown. Forcing myself to get out of bed at the start of the night was getting more and more difficult, but I carefully freed the arm under Marcus and got up. I grabbed a rag from the bathroom and soaked it with warm water to clean Marcus’s back – I’d find a different way to mark them later.

  The stores would only be open for a little longer, so that needed to be my first stop. It was a quick trip, I was back in about thirty minutes with a week’s worth of groceries. I stayed long enough to put everything away and left again.

  A club a little further north of the tourist side of the city was having an event tonight and I wanted to check it out. Know your competition, as they say.

  I hoofed it there, needed to work out some of the excitement built up over the past few days. The night was perfect and I enjoyed the quiet that preceded the busier streets. I also enjoyed melding into a loud, crowded room. I turned off my hearing in these places, but I didn’t need it. It was easy to spot those who were severely under the influence and they let me get close and I could often, not always, feed from them without alarm.

  Many of the ravers were simply enjoying life, lost in the beat and the atmosphere; the rest were drug cocktails on legs. I had a high tolerance, but so did some of them and I was starting to get sloppy. I called it a night before I made a mistake too large to fix in my current state and hired a car for the trip home.

  “We’re here.” The driver turned around to look at me.

  We were here, but we’d also just left. Maybe I was more fucked up than I thought. I thanked them and got out of the car, then hurried upstairs.

  Marcus was finally up and sat in one of the chairs. Good, that couch is all mine. I stretched out and rubbed against the fabric. My skin tingled where it made contact and the friction felt great.

  ““Are you drunk… or-?” I’m something.

  “All of the above.” I repositioned myself and examined Marcus. They were in the clothes I sat out for them earlier but I liked them better in nothing. And backed against me, also in nothing. I’d like them on this couch, for now. “Come here.”

  “I’m good right here.”

  Feeling better already, Marcus? I sat up; if they didn’t come over I’d go get them. “You’re good where I tell you to be.”

  We stood together but they didn’t try to get away. I swooped them up and carried them back to the couch. I became Marcus’s blanket, but I couldn’t stop myself from rubbing my still-numb face on their shirt – the friction still pleasantly tingled.

  I needed to clean myself up soon but I would stay here until then. It was a reminder of when I first brought them home. There was so much uncertainty about their fate but I knew then that I wanted more. “You spent the first night and day here on this couch. We were laying just like this for a while.”

  I glanced up at them and their attention was elsewhere. Really? I could throw them so hard they bounced. Fold their body like a lawn chair. Tear their limbs off one by one. Rip their throat out with my teeth. Hold them down and fuck them. In whichever order. They at least had an idea of what I was capable of and, while I was resting inches from their neck, they were, at most, annoyed with my company.

  My eyes landed on the nearly faded scar from my bite then traveled to the other side. “I almost killed you the next night. We weren’t sure how injured you were, so I thought I’d spare myself the inconvenience of you surviving permanent injuries.” I could still mark that side. Would. Tonight? Mm, maybe. I sat up more and they briefly met my eyes before they looked away again.

  I couldn’t help but laugh at the contrast of their indifference and my violent cravings. “People typically don’t find me boring.” Mark it now? “I want you to know I was this close.” I’m still this close. I’ll always be this close.

  Their body heat rose in the little space between their neck and my lips. Their heart beat a little faster – once again, not out of fear. “What keeps stopping you?”

  Oh, Marcus, you’re flirting with danger. A tease. It’s not about what stops me, it’s about getting stopped once I’ve started, and you make it very hard. I couldn’t help but laugh, but I needed to get up before I acted on my thoughts. “Don’t be in such a hurry to find out.”

  I was already fairly sober by the time I got in the shower. I’d caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror – a mess – and worked to scrub the club off of my skin. My body was quick to metabolize the drugs. The cost: I’d be hungrier tomorrow night.

  Marcus was asleep on the couch when I left the bathroom. Their ability to sleep so well around me was both a marvel and a relief. They would eventually discover at least one of my weaknesses and their future would be determined by what they’d do with that knowledge.

  I gave their shoulder a gentle shake. “Bedtime.”

  They slowly stood and trudged the short distance to the bedroom, already asleep when I joined them a few minutes later. My preferred spot was open this time and their scent was still trapped in the sheets from the night before. I spread some of my blood on Marcus’s lips and waited eagerly for them to lick it off.

  I woke up first, as usual. I wasn’t as hungry as I expected I’d be, though I’d indulged quite a bit at the event. Were they sleeping so much because they were bored? To avoid me? Were they that tired all the time that they needed this much sleep?

  I played with their braid; I wanted to undo it, to see what it looked like when it was left down. Marcus stirred and I paused. Awake? Hmmm.

  “Morning.” I’d see if they responded.

  They sighed and got out of bed. Definitely awake. I had a little time before I needed to head out, after all. I’d make their drink before I left, at least. I opened my ‘Things I’ll Make Marcus Wear’ drawer and looked for today’s option.

  The apartment was silent. There was no nearby traffic outside, no TV or music, minimal electronics and appliances. A human with even half-decent hearing could hear Marcus take a piss in the other room. I had the misfortune of hearing a lot more, not that their sounds were any more or less vulgar than most.

  But, just as the sound of a ceiling fan fades into the background until it wobbles, or the hum of electricity in the house isn’t noticed until the power goes out, I could filter most of it out. I’d go crazy if I was simultaneously processing everyone’s breath, heartbeat, bowels, footsteps, conversations, background noises, etc., at any given moment. So, I didn’t hear their heart beat all the time, but I could when I thought to listen and I’d notice changes.

  And, I noticed a big change. Adrenaline was in the air and their heart was racing. Their feet moved over the bathroom tile with uncertain stumbles, like a wounded animal. Shit.

  The bathroom door opened as I approached it and I helped steady them. I should’ve fucking left but now I couldn’t leave them like this. And, I couldn’t influence their current mood like I could with someone else so we’d have to ride it out.

  Heat radiated off their body and I removed their shirt to help cool them. I attempted to distract them while I considered how the next several minutes might play out. “Do you normally have panic attacks?” That would be the easiest solution in the short term. I didn’t want to prevent them from using a method that helped them come back down.

  “...No.” Marcus seemed as lost as I did, and their panic was getting worse. They tried to escape me but I held tighter. “I need to go!”

  “You need to get control of yourself before you get hurt.” Before I hurt you.

  The Hunger, as expected, was slowly making its presence known. I carried them back to bed where I could restrain them without accidentally causing harm. I hope. They continued to fight my efforts while I wrapped them in the comforter; I normally liked when they struggled, liked to playfully restrict their movements, liked to let them know how futile their efforts were in the end. I need you to stop.

  I was excited from the squirming. The blanket put a barrier between us but would it be enough? What’s to stop me from pulling the blanket back off? Ripping through it to get to them? The seconds seemed to drag by. Their panic was still thick in the air and the scent would stick around for a while; the porous covers only dulled what was fresh from the source. Even on a good day, and especially when we were alone, I would crave them.

  I knew it was risky but I worked one of my arms under the covers to make direct contact. “Breathe in through your nose. One…two… three… four, and hold. Two… three… four.” I attempted to keep myself calm, as well. “Out through your mouth… two… three… four, and hold. In through your nose… two… three… four, and hold…” It was a challenge not to pull the cover’s back even after Marcus stopped resisting my restraint; I’d been victorious in our ‘battle,’ and I wanted to claim my prize.

  With all of the events of the past few weeks, why would they have a panic attack now? Was it delayed shock? Building stress? Or… Oh, fuck. My blood… I’ve given them so much more of it over the past few days. It was purely selfish – I liked making them consume it. Hiding the drops in the drink, watching them lick my blood from their lips, the way they invited me in their mouth and sucked it from my fingers because they wanted it..

  They gained weight while they were gone because I’d given them a hunger. One they didn’t know how to feed. Their body craved it, like an addict. My blood. Me. Instead of restarting them on a lower amount I gave them as much as they were getting before they left, then added more. It was like an overdose; their body was struggling to handle starting back on so much at once. And, I was struggling not to end their life over a situation I created.

  I need to get out of here. “Gotta go.” I should be fine if I just leave them in the blanket for now; I can sort out the rest when I get back. I untangled myself from Marcus and sat up. “I’ll eat you if I stay here any longer.”

  I was half out of bed when the urge hit me and it took every bit of my centuries of self-discipline not to sink my teeth into their closest artery. “Don’t move,” I warned them through gritted teeth.

  The scent that had me so worked up was more concentrated under the blanket and I just released it. How do I keep making this worse? I’m not thinking clearly. I know better. I should have expected this. I cautiously finished sitting up. I had to make it through the bedroom door. Then I needed to make it through the front door. Lock it, so they don’t leave home again. Find someone, literally anyone, else to eat.

  I wanted to stay here. With Marcus. “I… hm…” How can they save themself? “I should have left earlier.” Way to point out the fucking obvious.

  I wanted them to test me. Run from me so I could chase them. Barricade themself behind a door so I could break it down. I wanted to back them in a corner. I wanted them to fight me with everything they had and know it wasn’t enough.

  “Do-”

  “Quiet.” Fuck. I’m not going to be able to stop myself from biting them, and I don’t think I can stop before I-

  “Do it.”

  Impulse, instinct, however you want to look at it, their words were enough; I buried my teeth in their neck. Why continue to delay the inevitable? I loved the taste of their blood because it belonged to them. They are mine and I crave them. The small drops I consumed when I used the needles were a small treat; this was an intimate indulgence and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop now that I let myself have them again. Not after being worked up to this point.

  I don’t want to stop. They saw me in a moment of weakness and knew what I was struggling to prevent. They told me to bite them anyway. Why would they take that risk for me after what I’ve done? Knowing I could kill them? Knowing that I want to kill them?

  Their taste still heavily favored their sweet tooth. But instead of the hint of anger I picked up the last time I bit them, it was an abundance of relief. Marcus remained still beneath me as I fed – did they want this?

  They lost consciousness but they weren’t fading like the first time; I took a lot from them for the short period of time that had passed since my last bite, but I was able to pull myself away before it became life-threatening. I wanted more, I'd always want more, but my hunger was satisfied.

  I treated the bite with my tongue until they stopped bleeding.

  I opened the bedroom door and let them rest while I cleaned myself up and got dressed. The apartment, the bedroom especially, needed a deep clean and; unless I secured them somewhere, it wasn’t a good night for me to do that myself.

  I grabbed my phone from the safe and sent a text; getting someone here on such short notice would hurt the wallet but it was necessary to keep Marcus safe from me. Maybe safe from themself.

  I brought them a folded slice of bread with a thick amount of peanut butter inside, as well as their meds and the electrolytes. I tried gentle methods to wake them at first – I shook their shoulder, lifted and dropped their leg against the bed – but they were out of it. I rubbed my knuckles against their sternum and applied more pressure until they groaned.

  They seemed so disappointed when they looked up at me and already seemed sore – providing them any sort of relief right now risked making things worse. “Ah, good.” I handed them the plate. “Eat fast, we need to leave for a bit.”