I whimper, my entire body engulfed in a searing pain.

The scent of my own charred flesh floods my nostrils and I push through it— push through the sound of my crackling skin as it blisters and melts away like wax from a candle. Even wrapped in the comforter I'd swiped from my bedroom and moving at top speed towards Cosima's apartment, the sun's rays are much too strong and unforgiving.

I traverse the rooftops to avoid being seen by the humans lurking below. There aren't many out at this early hour, but even in my desperation, I know I cannot afford to take any risks. It's somewhere just past the halfway mark when the flames ignite and I cry out loudly before biting down, my fangs sinking into my lower lip to stifle my screams. The pain is unimaginable and yet, I know it's nothing compared to the pain that awaits me if I stop or slow.

Once her building is in sight, I shed the burning blanket and burst straight through the glass door to the other side, flying up multiple flights of the emergency stairs until I'm at her door which is left slightly ajar. Slipping inside, I slam the door behind me and immediately collapse, falling to the ground. It had taken every ounce of strength I possessed just to make it this far and now that I'm here, I feel my strength begin to leave me, I feel my vision begin to fade and my body grow far too heavy despite the pieces of me which blister and sizzle and slide off my bones.

"C… Cosima…"

I glance around the apartment, though I see no sign of her. I can still smell the blood mixed with the scent of seared flesh and that's when I know she must be in the bedroom. I crawl, dragging myself along the floor at a snail's pace in an effort to reach her. With each pull towards the bedroom, I chafe against the floor in such a way that my black and blistered body is battered even further, as if someone is rubbing shards of fine glass into my open wounds. My body quakes, a sob escaping as I fight to maintain consciousness. The only thing that tethers me to this realm is the sight of deep red that trails out from beneath the crack of the bedroom door. I push it open and am instantly bombarded by the vision of Cosima in a pile on the ground, motionless in a pool of her own blood.

"Cosima!" I bellow, clawing at the floorboards in a desperate bid to draw myself closer to her.

My body is normally able to heal itself at an accelerated rate, but with the sheer amount of damage done, I know I'll need blood to kickstart the process— blood that Cosima simply doesn't have to spare.

I'm not frightened, though.

I'll happily resign myself to my fate if it means I can pull her back from the edge.

Once I'm at her side, I roll her over onto her back so I can inspect the damage; all semblance of colour has completely left her body. I press my ear to her chest to listen for a heartbeat and it's so faint, I'm barely able to catch it.

"Oh, no," I whimper, clutching her to my body. "No, no, no, no…"

I cradle her closely, I beg her to open her eyes and say something— anything— but she remains set in stone, as if perched atop some great cathedral, leaving me so far below.

"Please, just— please!"

Lifting up her shirt, I locate the source of the bleeding— a stab wound just beneath her left breast. Judging from her blood-stained lips and the trickle of red down her chin and neck, a punctured lung is the most likely culprit. The tiny breaths she's still able to draw rattle around in her chest and I know that she's drowning internally, that at this point, there isn't much I can do for her.

I've arrived too late.

Once this reality sets in, the pain that radiates all through my body subsides. I feel myself become completely numb, unable to tear my eyes away from her nearly lifeless face; the last time I'd seen it, she'd blessed me with a smile and the knowledge that I'll never see that smile again shakes my whole world— twists the walls and bends the floor until I'm trapped in some strange, spinning vortex that I know I'll never escape. Even if I'm not long for this world, whatever eternity awaits me on the other side will be one I share without her.

No.

I cannot bring myself to accept this.

I cannot bring myself to accept that I'll never see her smile again, or feel her cuddled up close to me as we watch one of her strange science fiction films, or feel her pressed beneath me as I shower her with kisses and she rewards me with her warmth; I cannot bring myself to accept that she will be anything less than bright and bursting with life, that she will lay cold in the ground when she should be drinking in all this vast world has to offer her.

"Forgive me," I beg her, my voice a strained whisper.

I unsheathe my fangs, tenderly caressing the side of her pale face.

This isn't the life that you deserve.

A life in the dark is no place for her kindness, no place for something quite so soft or luminous. The moon is a jealous creature— always wanting and taking, stealing light from the sun and tides from the shore. Without a doubt, it will take from her, as well. It will steal her shine and her movement, leaving her dull and fixed in a stretch of black; she'll look up at it every single night and curse it with all of her newfound (and perfectly useless) strength before she learns to stop looking to the sky altogether.

But a life in the dark is still a life— still a chance— still something.

I sink my fangs into her pale neck one last time and a few, eager gulps is all it takes until she runs completely dry. This isn't about sating my hunger or healing my gruesome form— this is restitution.

I give and take all at once.

When I pull myself from her neck, I draw my thumb into my mouth and prick the pad with the point of my fang, drawing blood. I bring my thumb to her silent lips, gently opening her mouth so that a few droplets can begin their descent, sliding down her throat and into the pit of her stomach. Once I'm satisfied that she's had enough (with blood as old and potent as mine, a few drops is really all it should take), I stare down at her expressionless face and stroke it lovingly, bringing my lips to hers in the softest, coldest kiss we've ever shared.

"Je t'aime," I tell her, tucking her head beneath my chin.

I cannot be sure if I'm crying— if my eyes are wet with tears or if my vision is just blurry from the pain which hugs me in so many different ways. It doesn't last for very long though, and as I sit on the floor cradling her, I feel my strength slowly return to me; my body is able to heal itself even with what little blood I was able to pull from her. As the minutes tick by like a deep, thick molasses, I can feel my wounds closing and skin regrowing. Once I'm strong enough, I lift her in my arms and bring her over to her bed, covers still disheveled from the night's passion. I set her down in the center with an almost maternal love, making sure she's tucked away comfortably before I maneuver around the apartment, ensuring that the windows are secured from the sun's violence.

I wonder if she's dreaming.

I can't remember the process myself— if my mind continued spinning like an endless wheel even after my mortal life ended, or if I found myself trapped in a dark and dismal void as my soul was expelled. I don't remember if I felt the pain, if I felt anything at all; I remember being alive one moment and then waking the next with a burning pain in my gut that spread through my bones, Aldous standing over me with a satisfied grin.

I'm not sure how much time I have exactly as the process is different in every case, but I'm certain that it's at least a few hours. While each moment spent waiting in this state of pointed anticipation chips away at me, I pray she won't rise again until the sun is down and I can move her back to my apartment. In the meantime, I remove my barely-present clothes which were singed in the flames and step into the bathroom, turning the shower on so that I can wash away the blood. Not a minute into my shower, a loud knock at the front door stops me and I panic for a moment before I grab a towel and quickly dry myself off, checking the mirror to be certain that the shower's spray has washed off Cosima's blood. Wrapping myself in the towel, I trudge over to the door and open it just a sliver so I can see who's standing on the other side.

"Is everything alright in here?"

I recognize the scruffy boy as the one from the elevator the very first time we kissed. He'd interrupted our moment before Cosima pulled me all the way to her apartment and I hadn't given him a second thought since.

"Everything's fine," I say, forcing a smile to reassure him.

He scrunches his face, clearly unconvinced by my facade. He tries to glance past me to see deeper into Cosima's apartment but I keep the opening just barely wide enough to accommodate my head, blocking his view.

"I thought I heard screaming," he says. "And what's that smell?"

I fabricate a fit of nervous laughter.

"I'm sorry," I apologize. "I… I started a small fire, but I was able to put it out."

He nods slowly, still weary.

"Where's Cosima?" he inquires.

"Shower," I say, opening the door a tiny bit wider so that he can see the top of my towel. "We were just… um…"

"Oh," he expels, cluing in. "I-I'm sorry. I thought I heard— never mind. Sorry."

He quickly ducks away and I close the door, relief washing over me. I'm able to finish my shower in relative peace but I know the longer we stay here, the greater danger we're in. I can't be sure if we'll have any more unexpected visitors who might sense that something is awry, or if Cosima will rise in a particularly vicious mood and cause a commotion that will draw attention. I need to get her back to my apartment as soon as possible, but doing so in the middle of the day is clearly out of the question. I know the only reason I survived my daring venture out into the daylight is because of how early it had been; had the day been deeper and the sun been higher in the sky, I would not be here to tell the tale. Once the sun sets, I'll be free to transport her and once we're back home, I know she'll be in a secure environment where I can better contain her.

"I'll take care of you, mon amour," I tell her, kneeling at her bedside. "I promise."

I dress myself in one of Cosima's large sweaters and a pair of harem pants. I'm able to disregard the fact that I look and feel like a fool as they're the only articles in Cosima's wardrobe that I'm certain will fit my taller frame. I do my best to clean the blood off the floor and tidy the small space; I hadn't even noticed the torn up state of her room, the open drawers of her dresser and the general state of disarray. Whoever was here— whoever is responsible for this— was either looking for something or wanted to make it appear as such. But who would have motive to do such a thing? Who would hurt Cosima? What might they have been looking for? There's only one person who comes to mind, but I reluctantly shake the thought out of my head.

"Impossible," I utter.

There's no way Aldous could have done this.

How would he have gotten into Cosima's apartment without an invitation? Even if he did somehow compel her to let him in, there's no way he could have done such a feat in daylight; being out in the sun for mere minutes nearly killed me, so even if he had endured the searing pain, he would have been left too weak and damaged to harm Cosima in such a way and then make an escape. He would have needed blood, and he clearly didn't drain her. The stab wound that was inflicted also baffles me considering his capabilities; he could have easily bitten her, snapped her neck, or even ripped her still-beating heart out of her chest with his bare hands if he so desired.

So, why a blade?

The only conclusion I'm able to reach is that he must have sent someone to do the job for him. Once Cosima is well again, I will make it my purpose and sincerest pleasure to track them down and extract my sweet revenge.

Until then, I patiently wait at her bedside.

The day eventually bleeds away without her stirring at all and once the sky is dark enough, I stuff some of her clothes into a backpack and gather her in my arms.

"Come, my love," I whisper, kissing her ear.

With full strength and speed, I whizz across the city, carrying Cosima in my arms the entire way until we reach my apartment. Once inside, I set her down on my bed and mentally prepare myself for the next phase— the rising. I've never sired anyone myself and I can barely remember my own rising, but I've witnessed the process in others and I know the first thing I'll need is blood— lots of blood. I venture into the kitchen to retrieve the blood bags I've stowed away in my fridge and it's only when I cross the threshold and see the mess of blood on the floor that I remember my previous outburst.

I silently curse my own foolishness, a prominent frown marring my features.

I've only a single bag left, which is hardly enough for a newly-sprung fledgling; I'll need to find some way to procure more rather quickly, though I know I can't risk leaving her right now in case she should rise in my absence. I had thought that with Cosima as my new source that I would no longer have to worry about procuring blood, that I could survive off of her alone. I never could have anticipated things would turn out quite so disastrous, that we'd both find ourselves in need of a steady source. I can always go back to using my abilities to compel the hospital staff to kindly donate from their supply, though by now they've most likely caught wind of something— vanishing blood tends to raise a few questions and shift protocols.

There is one other option…

I'm terrified to even consider it, but I know the matter may be entirely out of my hands.

If Cosima needs blood, then she will have blood.

I think of myself, of the rabid beast that rose up in place of the foolish human who'd so easily been taken. In the beginning, there was a great and permeating darkness that ensnared me and dictated my every act; I had thrashed around in that darkness for many years before Marion had set me straight and when I think of Cosima in such a state, every part of me aches.

No.

Cosima has me.

I had been stuck with Aldous— a man who'd delighted in watching me gorge myself, who actively encouraged my bloodlust. He said he found it to be "a thing of true beauty," that my impulse to feed was just nature running its course. I even believed him for a while. If Marion and the coven hadn't intervened, perhaps I'd still be terrorizing half of Europe; they'd always preached restraint and my transition into "adulthood" was one of the primary conditions for our induction into their group.

There's no way I will ever allow Cosima to fall so far.

A creak in the bedroom reclaims my attention and I hurry back over with the blood bag in hand, a ball of anxiety bouncing around my hollow halls. I stare down at her still form with a blazing intensity, my eyes searching for even the subtlest of movements. After a solid minute of staring, I'm rewarded with nothing and I deflate, turning my back so I can return to the kitchen. I don't even make it a single step before I'm thrashed from behind and I go flying forward.

"Cosima!"

When I turn my body to face her, she's on me again. Her eyes black and fangs bared, she snarls at me like a rabid dog and lunges for my throat, though I'm able to catch her head. She thrashes against me as I attempt to wrangle her and I find myself impressed by her strength, by the ferocity in which she snaps and claws at me.

"Cosima, please!" I scream, finally capturing her in an awkward headlock. "It's me!"

Her snarling becomes louder, her thrashing even more aggressive. She sinks her fangs into the flesh of my arm and I cry out, releasing her as pain shoots through my arm. I recover fairly quickly though and prepare myself for the second wave of her assault, but she ignores me and races straight for the puddle of blood on my kitchen floor, dropping on all fours. I watch completely mortified as she laps the blood off the floor like dog eating scraps under the table; there's something so demeaning about her desperation, so pathetic and repulsive that I can barely stand to watch.

"Here!" I call, trying to get her attention. "Drink!"

I hold out the last of the blood bags and she whips around, instantly zeroing in on my hand. She flashes over to me, snatching it out of my hand and growling before biting into it, downing the entire bag in a few large gulps.

"Cosima, you need to listen—"

She lunges at me again and I catch her this time, trying to hold her steady in my arms as she bucks and hisses and growls. I can tell that her bloodlust is nowhere near sated and I panic, wondering how I'll be able to call her back from such a place. How will I get her to hear me through the haze of red and fury?

"It's me. It's Delphine," I coo, lightly petting her dreads.

I try to soothe her, to speak to the human side of her that I pray hasn't dissipated just yet. She doesn't respond to my words though, only becomes louder and more unruly.

"It's okay," I tell her. "I'm right here."

Her elbow slams into my chest with a hard crack and I cry out in pain once more, losing my hold on her. Throwing her entire weight into me, she forces me back until my back hits the ground and I'm laid out with her on top of me. I blink a few times, trying to process the scene unfolding before me but I somehow can't bring myself to believe it. Even when she roughly bites into the flesh of my neck, there's something about all of this that seems far too surreal.

"Cosima," I whimper, feeling her suck steadily from me.

It's been far too long since someone's actually fed from me and I consider pushing her off, but ultimately decide against it. Feeding from each other for a prolonged period of time often leads to a state of frenzied delirium, but seeing as there isn't another blood source around and her thirst is so violent, I see no real harm in indulging her this once; if this is the only way to satisfy her bloodlust at the moment, then I will happily let her gorge herself on what little I have to offer her.

I wrap my arms around her small frame, holding her close as she suckles loudly.

She takes.

And takes.

And takes.

Like the jealous moon, she strips me bare until there's nowhere left to hide from what I've done. I'm not sure how long we stay like that, me on the floor with her hanging over me. I feel a strange fuzziness flow through me until her sucking finally slows, becomes less frantic. Her pulls become short and almost gentle in comparison and I hold her to me, not knowing what else to do— how else to be.

I hold her close, both of us desperately seeking warmth.

Her lips are cold against my skin.

Her eyes are even colder.