What Does it Taste Like, Sam Winchester?
Lady Jezebelle
It's like drinking fire. When it hits my mouth, it explodes. The pressure increases rapidly until my eyes water and my lips struggle to close. I am convinced l might spew, but I am surprised when it tears down my clenched throat. The journey down is anything but painless; it burns and claws, leaving my throat blackened and smoldering in its wake.
It sets fire to my stomach, transforming it into a churning, seething mess. Deep down, I feel my body warring with itself, debating whether or not to reject the foreign substance. It feels as though something is alive and trying to punch it's way out of my stomach, and the pain literally tosses my body back and forth on the bed.
I practically welcome the cold sweat that comes to combat my inner fire as soon as it enters my bloodstream. My blood freezes to ice; it becomes too cold for me to decide if it's helping or hindering my case. Shivers wrack my body as I loose myself in the icy waters that rush from my head to my toes.
Soon, the raging wildfire inside me dies down after consuming my entire being. I lay back on the bed, exhausted. Ruby lies beside me and whispers soothing words that I can't hear because of the blood rushing in my ears. Softly, she strokes my hair, but I don't feel it. How could I after experiencing such intense and mind-shattering feeling. If this emptiness was normal, then isn't it better not to feel at all?
This reasoning was the only incentive I needed to pick up the knife and drink again.