Chapter 2
A/N: I am a vampire, but my teeth are straight and white.
Blinking, Bonnie tried to sit up in what felt like a new body. She was in an unfamiliar, dimly candlelit room, and when she looked down she realized that she had been lying unconscious in not a bed, but what looked like a coffin. She scrambled out in panic; her leg caught on the edge and she hit the slightly damp stone floor face-first. Bonnie slowly stood, her body still feeling bizarrely foreign. Her veins felt like they were filled with ice, yet she didn't feel particularly cold. The hum of a strange sort of energy buzzed along her spine and around her fingertips, and an unfamiliar ache pulsed dully at the top of her chest and in the back of her throat. The thirst, she mused, Of course. I've really been turned, then.
This thought jolted her out of the emotional stupor that had settled around her like a fog. She was at once consumed by rage; it pulsed in her veins and turned her thoughts red. Her mind felt hazy, and she felt a nudging at the edge of her consciousness. Kill, time to kill, she thought-but, no, that wasn't her thought, although it felt familiar enough that she was certain it wasn't someone else's. The almost-familiar voice became more insistent as Bonnie's anger soared: Thou must kill the prep. Rip...tear her ugly blonde face off…Kill her now. Bonnie rushed to the door and jiggled the knob, but she seemed to be locked in. She clawed at the barrier, flung her body against it, and vaguely registered surprise at the damage she had done to it. Superhuman strength, she recalled, Thou art strong enough to get thine revenge...kill all of those preppy bitches.
Overcome by the murderous haze of predatory instinct, Bonnie rammed her knuckles in rapid succession against the area of wood she had damaged. Hearing the bones in her hand crunch against the door gave her a sick sort of satisfaction, which only intensified when a section of the door splintered beneath her attack. With her arm halfway through the good-sized hole, Bonnie's wince twitched into a smirk as she flexed her fingers. She felt around on the other side of the door for some sort of locking mechanism, the jagged hole digging painfully into the flesh of her forearm. A wicked sense of victory flooded her body as her fingers brushed against what felt like a thumb-turn lock. They scrabbled against it until they found purchase, and with a twist and a heart-accelerating click, Bonnie was free. Free to take thine revenge...to rip...kill...I smell blood...I SMELL BLOOD! Practically tearing it from its hinges, Bonnie flung the wretched door open. She sensed a human presence-from the smell, oddly enough. She lunged across the threshold to pursue it, only to find herself on the ground several feet away with the wind knocked out of her. Bonnie sat up, registering that she had been repelled rather violently from the doorway. Adrenaline drained away as her strange bloodlust subsided, and Bonnie suddenly felt very weak and very faint. She rested her skull against the cold, damp stone beneath her and let her eyes slip shut.
Bonnie cracked her stinging eyes open to see, at very close range, the corner where the stone floor met the stone wall. The edges of her cell seemed particularly slimy, as did the cheek she had pressed against the floor. Her tongue felt as though it was sealed to the roof of her mouth, and Bonnie swallowed convulsively around a parched throat. It felt as if the edges of her person were blurry and her very flesh was pulsing with the same throbbing thirst that she had glimpsed earlier. Her vision and her consciousness blurred. Bonnie could not seem to control her own movements. She felt a deep ache in her upper jaw. Sharp canines punctured, then greedily sank into the nearest available flesh, thrumming and red with the promise of blood. Bonnie's tongue darted out to probe the twin incisions on her lower lip, only to find them dry and closing. She sucked the lip into her mouth and prodded it with her tongue. Nothing. Bonnie heard a pitiful whimper, then an inhuman roar, which, she distantly noted, had erupted from her own dry throat. She mindlessly rushed the invisible barrier at her door, only to be flung back with the same force.
Trapped. Trapped... Let me out…
Bonnie's nostrils flared. Her eyes frantically darted around the room. When she saw it, she felt her whole being projecting itself towards the source of the alluring scent. How could she have missed this? Laying on its side next to the coffin, a bottle. She dove for it, clutching it to her and sloshing its rich red contents onto her chest as she uncorked it. Blood...yesss...Bonnie-not-Bonnie hissed from inside her skull. Bonnie was inclined to agree. It was tepid, but smelled sweet and earthy as she poured it down her throat. Cool relief flushed from the crown of Bonnie's head, washing through her to lap at her toes. She sighed, allowing her aching body to fall back into the floor. Bonnie stared at the ceiling, already feeling the twisting ache begin to settle back into the very marrow of her bones. The thirst pulsed insistently to replace the taunting silence of her unmoving heart.