Joe's P.O.V
Nick's weird "craving" for blood only got worse as he got older. None of the doctors could figure it out, none had an exact cause for all this or what they could even call it. And believe me, we went to a lot of doctors, even a few specialists. Most of them figured maybe he had a mineral deficiency, you know like anemia or something. But when they'd prescribed him the pills, told our mom and dad to feed him more iron-enriched foods, and even when he was taking three sets of iron vitamins a day starting at the age of seven and eating so much liver, beef, and spinach until the point of his stomach would swell so big you'd think it'd pop, he still wanted it…he still wanted blood.
When he turned ten, my parents got a call from the school saying that a boy in Nick's class had fallen and cut himself pretty badly on one of the open hooks of his binder. Apparently, Nick was the one who initiated it and soon after had gone to work with sucking some of the blood out of his wound- or, as the teacher put it, "acted in a highly disturbing endeavor." He was suspended from school for two days and my mom made him personally apologize to the boy and his parents too, even though Nick claimed he was just trying to help him out and stop the bleeding.
No one bought that.
One day, a while after Nick's fourteen birthday, I walked into the bathroom and found him sucking hard at his arm, a bloody razor laid a little ways beside him and small droplets of blood scattered on the floor near it. He doesn't stop what he's doing when he notices me, and when I bend down next to him and try to pry his arm away from his mouth, I don't know why I'm not more disgusted. Maybe it's because this is Nick and nothing he does could ever disgust me- it's either that, or I'm becoming mentally unstable and need to think about going to see a therapist. But then again, maybe it's just because I'm not surprised.
"Nick, stop it," I tell him, when he refuses to let his hold up. "You're going to end up killing yourself!"
It's already starting to happen, actually. His skin is sweaty and extremely pale, signs that he's losing way too much blood and he really needs to stop now. Finally, after much forcing, I end up having to pin his arms down and straddle him, having the advantage of being a lot stronger than he is when he tries to struggle.
"Get off, Joe!" he screams, and I'm suddenly happy we're the only ones in the house. "I need it!"
"No, you don't, Nick," I say, through clenched teeth, surprised that he has as much strength as he does in his state. "You have to stop this!"
"But, I can't!"
He stops struggling and I take it as a truce, letting him sit up but not giving him complete freedom, my hands still holding onto him.
"I can't, Joe," he whimpers, as I reach for the nearest towel and wrap it tight around his arm, applying pressure to the large gash, after deciding that it's not deep enough to need stitches. "You don't understand."
"Yeah I do, Nicky," I try to coax to him, as I wrap my arms around his skinny figure, holding him against my chest.
"No, you don't," he stresses, his brown eyes staring up at me insistently, yet pleading. "You and mom and dad and everyone else act like I want to be this way."
"Well, do you?"
I don't know why I ask, but I feel like I just need to hear it, to get some type of finalizing closure, because the fact of him not actually enjoying it is a lot better than the alternative.
"Of course not," he says, his voice small and tight. "Who wants to be known as the school monster?"
I shrug, and he goes on to add, "You don't think I'm a monster do you, Joe?"
"Never," I tell him without hesitation, my hands running through his hair and resting against his cheek. "You're way too cute to be a monster."
He laughs, but a few minutes later I have to shake him a little to make sure he hasn't passed out when he gets too quiet and his breathing evens out.
By the time Nick turns seventeen, it's obvious the whole obsession that he has isn't going anywhere. Oddly, we all embrace it, or get use to it, rather. The doctors all say that, much to their surprise, it didn't seem to be doing his body any harm. If anything, it's helping him in a way, so why continue to deny him from having it?
The only hard thing about it is that by giving in, his craving pretty much turns into a full-blown addiction, and if it's not fed it can get pretty crazy and we've had to take more than enough hospital visits. It's gotten to the point where whenever we go, instead of the traditional blood fusion they just let Nick suck the blood right out of the bags. Sounds disgusting, I know, but after a while it becomes like just another daily sight of life.
Now, Nick and I are sitting in the living room watching a movie, our legs pressed together as we sit close on the couch. He's licking at a cut on his finger, something which had been self-inflicted and if mom and dad ever found out he'd be in a shitload of trouble over. Yet, I sit beside him completely unfazed, my eyes directed towards the TV screen and my arm resting against the top of the sofa beside his back.
"Do you ever think about what my future will be like?" he asks, halfway through the movie.
"What do you mean?" I ask, staring back at him curiously.
"I mean, what girl is going to want to be with me and be willing to deal with this?" He motions towards his slicked finger, his eyebrows raised questioningly.
"Oh, come on," I counter, a chuckle escaping my lips. "Is that what this is about?"
"I'm serious, Joe."
"I know you are, but I don't get how that's relevant."
"Are you kidding?" he questions, shifting so that he's facing me more.
"Okay, fine," I give in. "Maybe you're right. But I don't see why it matters."
For some reason, the thought of Nick actually being with someone makes me uneasy, and I wish he'd stop talking about it. Of course, it's natural for him to wonder, though, but that doesn't ease my mind any. I'm extremely protective of him, always have been, and the thought of anyone ever hurting him just can't cross my mind without me mentally freaking out.
"What do you mean you don't see why it matters?" he presses, his eyebrows furrowed. "I don't wanna be alone for the rest of my life."
"You won't," I assure him, looking away.
"How do you know that?"
"Because I just do," I stress, my eyes directed hard at the TV. "Besides, you're too young to be thinking about girlfriends anyway."
"What are you talking about?" he exclaims, indifferently. "You had your first girlfriend when you were fourteen. I haven't even gotten my first kiss."
I sigh, mostly faking it because I'm trying to think of something to change the subject with, anything. But nothing comes to mind.
"Honestly, Nick, it's not all it's hyped up to be," I say, even though that's entirely not true; my first kiss had, as lame as this sounds, been the best thing that ever happened to me. But he doesn't know that.
"No need to mock my intelligence, Joseph," he remarks, and he's using his "you're being a real jerk" type voice. "I'm not that naïve."
I open my mouth to say something, thinking sorry might be the way to go, but then he's rolling his eyes in frustration as if he's had enough of me, and then gets up off the couch.
"Where are you going?" I ask, motioning towards the plasma. "The movie's not over, yet."
"I'm going to ask mom for help," he retorts, before leaving out of the room, having the sense of abandonment wash over me as I sit there alone.
By help he means he's going to ask her- brace yourselves- for some of her blood, something he usually does when he thinks the cuts on his fingers will become too noticeable. The weird thing is, he's tasted everybody's blood in the house- even Frankie's, but purely by accident…or at least that's how Frankie saw it- except for mines. Hell, he's even asked Kevin for help a few times, but not once has he ever turned to me and I don't know why that bothers me so much.
Maybe it's just instincts, how I've never thought twice about going out of my way to fulfill his needs, yet when it comes to this whole blood addiction, the one thing that he honestly can't seem to live without, I've never felt more helpless.
And, weirdly, I'd probably be the most willing. Just from their facial expressions, you can tell the others don't really feel the process to be all that rewarding. I even caught Kevin throwing up one time afterwards. But he's never really been able to handle the whole situation well anyways. But, me…I'd be different, I'd be appreciative that Nick would ever confide in me in such a truly bizarre but at the same time intimate way.
But it's not like Nick could resist if I was the one to initiate it, instead waiting around for him to ask me. It's not like he'd just walk away if I openly held it out to him. At the sight of blood, it's like he becomes a whole other person. As long as you have blood dripping somewhere on you, you could ask him to put on a dress and dye his hair pink and he'd do it…he'd do anything.
It makes me wonder just how far I can go with this.