My First
By Prismaa
I sat on the ground in the parking lot in front of my father's store. My two new friends were holding some guy in between them while smiling at me, encouraging me to do better than them.
The cool wet asphalt felt soft beneath my bare legs, clad only in a pair of black shorts. I could feel the material turn damp wherever it touched the ground, but I could care less. The cold had no hold on me anymore, weird as it may seem.
I stared at the guy in front of me and concentrated on his beating heart. The lush sound of blood pumping was making me feel sort of light headed, but in a familiar way, as if this is how it was supposed to feel all along. The red haze was literally starting to cloud my judgment, it was not instant, and if I wanted to I could push it away. But why would I want that?
I could feel the heat spreading. If I still had a beating heart and someone to do it with I would compare it to when you are starting to get really riled up with someone you are attracted to, the heat sent a tingling feeling down my spine but focused in my chest and throat. I felt flushed. The red haze was not overpowering yet though, I still had full control over my actions, and this surprised me since everyone had always told me that the thirst was supposed to make you a monster. Sitting here, right next to fresh, living, pumping blood, I felt as much in control as I did just a few days ago, before the fire took a hold of me.
One of my new friends, I really should ask for her name, probably got tired of watching me only stare at the guy as she quickly dragged a small knife over his right wrist. The blood started trickling down his hand to his fingertips as I sat and watched fascinated. I should be out of it by now, but all I could feel was intrigued.
The red haze expanded inside me to the point where I could see it in the corners of my eyes, my whole vision was tainted red and I could only imagine what my eyes looked like now. Probably gleaming with mirth and bloodlust as that was exactly how I felt at the moment.
I took the wrist in my hands and brought it up to my mouth, my tongue darting out to lick up what hadn't already hit the ground. I noticed that the wound did not produce much blood anymore; it was really more of a scratch than a knife wound. I ran my tongue around the edges of the scratch and then dragged my new and improved teeth over it a few times. Marveling over the increased blood flow I did it again, but I probably miscalculated my strength or the sharpness of my teeth since the blood started to pump into my mouth.
The blood pressure was a bit much though, and I could not fit it all as it gushed out of the wound. I tried to clamp my mouth shut around it but somehow is still managed to squirt out now and then, coloring my white blouse beyond recognition.
The red haze made everything feel warm, the ground felt like laying on the sand on a warm summers day in Phoenix, the probably cool wrist in my hands felt positively scorching hot and the blood, ah, the blood. As it flowed down my throat I could only feel euphoria, there was no emotion strong enough to describe what I was feeling at the time. All the lust and happiness in the world could simply not compare.
As the blood began to thin out and then a few seconds later stop flowing altogether I removed my mouth from the source and stood up. I felt the haze retreat and the nothingness overtook me again, I felt neither hot nor cold, not hated but not loved either.
As I glanced around the parking lot I could not help but think about what my father would find the next morning when he came here to open his shop. Or maybe someone out early to walk their dog would get the surprise? I could care less who found it really.
And as we started to walk away towards the forest, the only emotion strong enough to break through the nothingness was pride.
I did that.