me, but I have no complaints. Two major train stations are only a few minutes away, and the highway is a stone’s throw away from my front door. If I wanted to, if I
needed
to, escape is only a moment away. When I reach the apartment, I scan the alley before the door out of habit. There’s nothing there except for the dumpster and a few stray beer bottles.
My apartment is warm, immediate waves of comfort as soon I step foot into the living room. I bolt up the three deadlocks behind me and slam the door. I’m not taking any chances, even in the calm light of day. It’s been over twelve hours since my last dose and my body is starting to ask for it. The whispers are almost real, as if a dozen ghosts were blowing kisses from inside the walls. I shake them off for a moment and walk into the bedroom. I push the bed a full foot towards the wall and lift up the crimson rug from the wooden floor. It wasn’t an easy device to install, but a hidden dorm-sized refrigerator is the only place to store my stash. I plug in the combination and two floating rivers of cool mist escape from the hinges. I thumb through the clear plastic packages. The top layer of blood is all O-positive. The dozen or so packs below it are what I need: AB-positive.
The first conversation I had after I was infected was with Cale in the back of The December Club, a place I’d soon enough call my second home. One of the few fantastic traits is that you cansniff out other similar souls, and Cale did just that while downing whiskey sours at the club’s colorful bar. He was my mentor, my guide to this new world, this new life. One of the first things he told me was that just blood wasn’t enough to sustain our life; the only blood that would satisfy the hunger deep within our bodies was that of the same grouping system when we were human. Since my blood was of the AB-positive variety, the only blood I could drink with any effect on my system was AB-positive blood. Although any type of blood could quiet the virus for an hour, one of us couldn’t live alone on blood that wasn’t within our grouping system. As Cale would say, “It’s just like a fucking appetizer.”
If there was one thing that made me clamor for my previous life, it would be the fact that only 4% of the general population could provide me with the proper nourishment. This proved extremely difficult for an abnormal soul like me. I couldn’t walk into the streets in the middle of the night with a 50/50 shot of fully feeding the virus. The ones that ignored this crucial element of their existence are the ones that are weak. They’re the ones that are constantly hungry. This is why I learned to keep a deep stash buried in my safe. This is why I developed the trait of hording blood in my apartment. I could never take the risk of running low.
I toss a packet of the O-positive to the side and sigh. I take a moment to think of Abel, his infectious laugh, his soulful eyes. We would droop our legs over the sides of the Tobin Bridge when the rest of the world was sleeping. We’d share beers and stories, words that calmed the hunger of contact deep below the surface of my skin. Some would say I could live forever and never know what love could be. Abel was my brother, a soul that would pour you a drink and relieve the tension in your bones with just a smile.
I fish out a packet of AB-negative and waste no time. I don’t need a cup; I just pinch a hole in the corner of the bag and drink.When the blood rushes through my body the whispers turn into silence, every pore of my body dripping with the sweat of satisfaction. I sit back against the wall and let the blood soothe my insides, full nourishment the only thing that a vampire craves more than sex. Sunlight drips into the bedroom window and for a moment I’m alive again, in my head my heart is beating and I’m back with my family. I’m normal again.
It’s only when that initial jolt passes that reality kicks in once again. The voices in my
needed
to, escape is only a moment away. When I reach the apartment, I scan the alley before the door out of habit. There’s nothing there except for the dumpster and a few stray beer bottles.
My apartment is warm, immediate waves of comfort as soon I step foot into the living room. I bolt up the three deadlocks behind me and slam the door. I’m not taking any chances, even in the calm light of day. It’s been over twelve hours since my last dose and my body is starting to ask for it. The whispers are almost real, as if a dozen ghosts were blowing kisses from inside the walls. I shake them off for a moment and walk into the bedroom. I push the bed a full foot towards the wall and lift up the crimson rug from the wooden floor. It wasn’t an easy device to install, but a hidden dorm-sized refrigerator is the only place to store my stash. I plug in the combination and two floating rivers of cool mist escape from the hinges. I thumb through the clear plastic packages. The top layer of blood is all O-positive. The dozen or so packs below it are what I need: AB-positive.
The first conversation I had after I was infected was with Cale in the back of The December Club, a place I’d soon enough call my second home. One of the few fantastic traits is that you cansniff out other similar souls, and Cale did just that while downing whiskey sours at the club’s colorful bar. He was my mentor, my guide to this new world, this new life. One of the first things he told me was that just blood wasn’t enough to sustain our life; the only blood that would satisfy the hunger deep within our bodies was that of the same grouping system when we were human. Since my blood was of the AB-positive variety, the only blood I could drink with any effect on my system was AB-positive blood. Although any type of blood could quiet the virus for an hour, one of us couldn’t live alone on blood that wasn’t within our grouping system. As Cale would say, “It’s just like a fucking appetizer.”
If there was one thing that made me clamor for my previous life, it would be the fact that only 4% of the general population could provide me with the proper nourishment. This proved extremely difficult for an abnormal soul like me. I couldn’t walk into the streets in the middle of the night with a 50/50 shot of fully feeding the virus. The ones that ignored this crucial element of their existence are the ones that are weak. They’re the ones that are constantly hungry. This is why I learned to keep a deep stash buried in my safe. This is why I developed the trait of hording blood in my apartment. I could never take the risk of running low.
I toss a packet of the O-positive to the side and sigh. I take a moment to think of Abel, his infectious laugh, his soulful eyes. We would droop our legs over the sides of the Tobin Bridge when the rest of the world was sleeping. We’d share beers and stories, words that calmed the hunger of contact deep below the surface of my skin. Some would say I could live forever and never know what love could be. Abel was my brother, a soul that would pour you a drink and relieve the tension in your bones with just a smile.
I fish out a packet of AB-negative and waste no time. I don’t need a cup; I just pinch a hole in the corner of the bag and drink.When the blood rushes through my body the whispers turn into silence, every pore of my body dripping with the sweat of satisfaction. I sit back against the wall and let the blood soothe my insides, full nourishment the only thing that a vampire craves more than sex. Sunlight drips into the bedroom window and for a moment I’m alive again, in my head my heart is beating and I’m back with my family. I’m normal again.
It’s only when that initial jolt passes that reality kicks in once again. The voices in my
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