Pocket Stories: Blood Source
Prompt: Sure it hurt, it always did. But the louder you screamed the more blood they would take.
My skin burned and itched. My heart beat harder and harder, trying to push precious life force through my failing body. I wanted, more than anything, to push the vile man from my neck, but any movement would rip my veins beyond healing capacity.
A quiet whimper escaped my traitorous mouth and the pull stopped. He let me go and I slid to the floor in a pathetic heap.
His voice rumbled around my head as I started to lose consciousness. "Oh pet, you should have let me know, I would have stopped much sooner."
I knew he wouldn't have, he never did, no matter how much noise I made. His footsteps grew quieter and I heard the heavy door slam shut behind him.
I stumbled over to my head, hitting my shin on the bed frame. I groped for the nightstand, grabbing for the handkerchiefs I stashed there for just this purpose. Finally the soft fabric met my fingertips and I snatched it up, pressing it hard to the puncture wounds in my neck that still dripped sluggishly. My vision began to blur so I sat heavily, the flimsy mattress making a breath whoosh as air escaped through the various holes.
The next thing I knew I was waking up, half sitting half lying on the bed, my lower back aching from the awkward position. My vision was more clear but I still felt slow and dimwitted.
That cup wasn't on my nightstand before, but then again, it never is. I downed the potion and breathed slowly while it did its work. My slow heartbeat picked up its pace until it reached it normal speed. My head cleared from the fog that was coating my world.
His feeding was rather minor this time, but his wasn't the only feeding I'd been subjected to today. I made my way to the bathing room to check on the damage. The mirror told me more than I wanted to know.
Laying on the bed made the blood soak into my long hair, one side was coated and crusty, the other knotted from the manhandling. My neck wasn't too bad. The blood from the puncture marks was smeared across my pale skin, but the puncture marks were already starting to heal closed. I wouldn't even end up with a scar.
I slowly pulled up the bottom of my blouse. It's dark color chosen specifically to hide blood stains. The blood from my face drained as I took in the sight of my mangled side. This feeder was new and could barely control his bloodlust. My screams and flailing had only fueled his attempts and the evidence lay in the shredded skin that was attempting to heal. His feeding only ceased when I had gone limp and silent, praying for the end of my miserable life.He had no access to the potions, so I'd simply suffered until now. The pain was much less now, the potion doing its work in a spectacular fashion. This would leave a scar though, one more to add to the pale, raised lines crisscrossing my body.
I waited on the edge of the tub until the healing process had finished. The light from my arrow slit window showed that dusk was fast approaching. I turned the faucet handle and breathed in the delicious smell of clean water. Most of the other Sources put oils in their bath water to hide the smell of the feeders, but I wanted nothing coating my body. The oils felt too much like blood smears.
Removing my clothes I sat gingerly into the depths of the tub, steam rising in clouds to cling to the surface of the brick walls of the bathing room. Clean, all I needed was to be clean.
The sun had well and truly set by the time I reached my standard of cleanliness. I'd emptied and refilled the tub at least three times before no more blood stained the clear water.
Drying myself off I grabbed a set of clothes from the drying rack, dark blouse and breeches, and dressed before leaving the confines of the bathing room. My hair would take longer to dry, probably all night, but a simple three-strand braid would keep it out of the way for now.
My life was pathetic. Every day it was the same thing. Wake up, eat the provided meal high in protein and iron, wait around until he came for his daily feeding and pray no one else took advantage of his lapses in attention. Then I'd drink the potion and get clean and sleep until the new day arrived. But no more. I refused to spend one more day being sucked dry by the monsters that tried to pass as men. Either they would kill me for my insubordination, I'd actually escape, or they would serve me the ultimate punishment and make me join them.
I was praying for death.
My skin burned and itched. My heart beat harder and harder, trying to push precious life force through my failing body. I wanted, more than anything, to push the vile man from my neck, but any movement would rip my veins beyond healing capacity.
A quiet whimper escaped my traitorous mouth and the pull stopped. He let me go and I slid to the floor in a pathetic heap.
His voice rumbled around my head as I started to lose consciousness. "Oh pet, you should have let me know, I would have stopped much sooner."
I knew he wouldn't have, he never did, no matter how much noise I made. His footsteps grew quieter and I heard the heavy door slam shut behind him.
I stumbled over to my head, hitting my shin on the bed frame. I groped for the nightstand, grabbing for the handkerchiefs I stashed there for just this purpose. Finally the soft fabric met my fingertips and I snatched it up, pressing it hard to the puncture wounds in my neck that still dripped sluggishly. My vision began to blur so I sat heavily, the flimsy mattress making a breath whoosh as air escaped through the various holes.
The next thing I knew I was waking up, half sitting half lying on the bed, my lower back aching from the awkward position. My vision was more clear but I still felt slow and dimwitted.
That cup wasn't on my nightstand before, but then again, it never is. I downed the potion and breathed slowly while it did its work. My slow heartbeat picked up its pace until it reached it normal speed. My head cleared from the fog that was coating my world.
His feeding was rather minor this time, but his wasn't the only feeding I'd been subjected to today. I made my way to the bathing room to check on the damage. The mirror told me more than I wanted to know.
Laying on the bed made the blood soak into my long hair, one side was coated and crusty, the other knotted from the manhandling. My neck wasn't too bad. The blood from the puncture marks was smeared across my pale skin, but the puncture marks were already starting to heal closed. I wouldn't even end up with a scar.
I slowly pulled up the bottom of my blouse. It's dark color chosen specifically to hide blood stains. The blood from my face drained as I took in the sight of my mangled side. This feeder was new and could barely control his bloodlust. My screams and flailing had only fueled his attempts and the evidence lay in the shredded skin that was attempting to heal. His feeding only ceased when I had gone limp and silent, praying for the end of my miserable life.He had no access to the potions, so I'd simply suffered until now. The pain was much less now, the potion doing its work in a spectacular fashion. This would leave a scar though, one more to add to the pale, raised lines crisscrossing my body.
I waited on the edge of the tub until the healing process had finished. The light from my arrow slit window showed that dusk was fast approaching. I turned the faucet handle and breathed in the delicious smell of clean water. Most of the other Sources put oils in their bath water to hide the smell of the feeders, but I wanted nothing coating my body. The oils felt too much like blood smears.
Removing my clothes I sat gingerly into the depths of the tub, steam rising in clouds to cling to the surface of the brick walls of the bathing room. Clean, all I needed was to be clean.
The sun had well and truly set by the time I reached my standard of cleanliness. I'd emptied and refilled the tub at least three times before no more blood stained the clear water.
Drying myself off I grabbed a set of clothes from the drying rack, dark blouse and breeches, and dressed before leaving the confines of the bathing room. My hair would take longer to dry, probably all night, but a simple three-strand braid would keep it out of the way for now.
My life was pathetic. Every day it was the same thing. Wake up, eat the provided meal high in protein and iron, wait around until he came for his daily feeding and pray no one else took advantage of his lapses in attention. Then I'd drink the potion and get clean and sleep until the new day arrived. But no more. I refused to spend one more day being sucked dry by the monsters that tried to pass as men. Either they would kill me for my insubordination, I'd actually escape, or they would serve me the ultimate punishment and make me join them.
I was praying for death.
Comments
Post a Comment