"This is the subject, a male who appears to be somewhere between 22 and 32, we don't know when it was turned, nor how." a man with brown hair and cold and calculating blue eyes informs.
"Dr. Whitmore?" A girl asks.
"hmm." The aforementioned man says as he looks over some files.
The girls bright sky blue eyes stare into the dark cell, searching for a face hidden by the darkness, "What is his name?" She glances at the man.
He looks up from his papers and gives her a curious look, "I don't know, but it doesn't matter. It's not human, Caroline, and doesn't deserve to be treated as such." The man explains.
The girl, Caroline, nods.
Dr. Whitmore sighs, "Okay, so I just need you to observe him, we will move on from there." He starts walk out but the girl stops him.
Caroline bites her lip, thinking for a moment, before speaking, "What exactly am I looking for?"
Dr. Whitmore stops and turns, "Well nothing in particular, we've had the subject for about 9 years now, I'm more worried you'll be afraid of it. So get acquainted, and after I dissect the subject I'll have you observe the healing process." Dr. Whitmore turns and leaves Caroline alone.
Caroline pulls up a little stool and sits in front of the cell, squinting her eyes, as she crosses her legs.
All the while a man engulfed in the darkness watches the scene unfold in front of him. He has shaggy black hair, deep brown eyes, and a naturally tan complexion. He takes the girl in, the girl so full of light, with her hair as bright as the sun and eyes that show the sky he hasn't seen in nine years.
She draws him in, but he keeps his distance, just out of sight. Yet she sits there, despite not knowing where he is, in silence for what feels like hours. He doesn't quite know, he counts the years by the number of new years eve; but the seconds, hours, days, and months run together in endless torture.
He watches as she fiddles with the sleeve of her dress, how her long fingers fiddle with the fabric as her eyes graze the cell. He gets a little bored and heaves himself off the floor, ignoring the searing pain from his abdomen. His fangs ache to drain every drop of blood from her body as he listens to her steady, strong pulse. He takes a few steps forward and stops, just a ghost of his face shows.
He can hear the moment she spots his form, her pulse quickens and breath pauses fractionally. Her wide blue focus on his dark brown ones, and he longs to see the sky once more after catching the piece her eyes show.
She scoots the stool back to stand, lifting a hand to move closer, but he stops her as he lets his fangs elongate, eyes darken, and veins protrude from beneath his eyes.
He senses her fear and watches her eyes close as she steadies her breath, and he immediately regrets letting his face show. He longs for her to open her eyes again, they are unlike Dr. Whitmore's cold blue eyes, they make him envision summer days.
She gains control and opens her eyes once more, he finds them full of awe instead of disgust or fear. He is taken aback a little, but doesn't show it, instead he holds her gaze.
Caroline doesn't break eye contact, and takes a small step forward, far enough that he can't reach her but close enough she can see more. He lets her look, knowing she will see him on the operating table tomorrow.
He hears the approach of Dr. Whitmore long before the door opens, and steps back into the shadows the moment he hears the door handle move. He moves faster then the eye can see and Caroline lets out a breath of awe. But soon her attention is pulled away from him and to Dr. Whitmore.
Dr. Whitmore takes in her and offers a cold smile, "I see that you have caught a glimpse of the subject."
"He's-" Caroline pauses to find the right word, "beautiful."
Dr. Whitmore is taken aback, his eyebrows shoot together, "I think the word your looking for is dangerous."
Caroline quickly hides her thoughts and nods, "Yes sir."
Dr. Whitmore nods, "Now come along, you can see more tomorrow."
Her blue eyes search the cell for a moment, and he takes in the sky before she leaves. Once they are gone he steps out of the shadows and leans against the bars, pressing slightly even though he knows they won't budge.
A/N Sometimes when I write for my other stories I get inspired to start new projects. It's not exactly ideal to start a new story, especially with most of my stories incomplete, but I don't want to lose the idea. Most of my stories don't make it past Document manager, in fear of rejection, but I thought I'd post this to see what comes of it. If even one person thinks it's worth pursuing I will update, but if not then I will delete it or just leave it here. Anyways...please review if you made it this far, and leave your honest opinion!