Contemplating
Disclaimer: I, sadly, do not own Edward Dalton and other characters from the radical movie, Daybreakers. Though I wish I did. I make no profit from writing this whatsoever.
Golden eyes peered into the mug. Pale, slim fingers held the handle rather shakily. His lips curled in a combination of mild disdain and sheer hunger. Elognated canines were a shade of pearly white. If he so willed it, they could easily be tainted by the crimson liquid in the cup. His body shivered from the lack of nourishment. I need it...What had he done to deserve this? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Shame filled his vampiric orbs. Edward Dalton couldn't starve himself forever. He couldn't deprive himself of the one thing that kept them all alive. With a sigh of plausible anguish, he greedily gulped down the substance.
A hoarse groan escaped his painted lips. Had it been his first feeding? No. It had been the fourth, however. Edward felt as if he could never get used to it. He didn't want this. He was quite content living as a human. Until his brother, Frankie, converted him. It took him by complete surprise. The hematologist shook his head. The events of that night, not too long ago, remained foggy within his mind. He rubbed his hands over his arms as if he were making an attempt to get the circulation back into his system. It was to no avail. After all, he was dead. As dead as a doornail. Or rather undead. The older Dalton thought to himself with a twinge of sarcasm.
Edward combed his hands through his brown hair, peering into the empty cup. Neither half empty nor half full. Drained. It'll be drained just as our blood supply soon enough.... It's just a matter of years before we all starve. Out of his own thought and contemplations, he spoke aloud; "Then, were will we end up? We won't die. We can't die." His voice became altered by an octave thanks to that reminder, "I can only begin to wonder if we'll lose the last threshold of our humanity and finally become the monsters worthy of our books and movies."
It was a bitter thought, but he firmly believed it. It made him a bit of a cynic, you could say. Edward rose from the kitchen chair, filling the cup with water, letting it mingle with the small traces of blood. As a result, a pinkish hue was produced. He dug through his pockets, searching for a cigarette. He casually smoked as he threw on his overcoat. The chief hematologist stepped out the door, giving his 'home' a last glance over.
And Edward couldn't help but to continue contemplating.
Where did our humanity go?