(vi)
Dreams of death plagued Frankie each and every night. Sometimes he would wake, find his body in a cold sweat, and go down stairs, searching for a cup of the AB blood. Other times, Frankie would roll over onto his side, say, "It's just a nightmare," before falling into his own dreamland once more. However, the dream would return, always the same.
He would be in his bedroom, a lamp lit in the corner, a computer laid on his bed while he turned his back to it, eyes closed as he slept. The sun was still out; two hours were left before it sunk away.
The door would open and there were be soft footsteps as someone padded into his room.
His bed would dip and he would unconsciously turn onto his back. The person would pause for a moment and then, once they were sure that Frankie was still asleep, they would continue to crawl up the bed.
Frankie would be able to feel them, the heat radiating off their body, as they moved further up his body, legs on each side, following the paths the two hands made. The figure would stop, hands on either side of his head, legs almost straddling his waist. He would open his eyes, just a bit, to try to glance at the figure above him, to make out a shape, but the light was behind the person, and the figure would be nothing but a shadow.
Suddenly, there would be pressure on his neck, tight, constricting, and he wouldn't be able to breathe, and his eyes would snap open, surprised, desperation growing as the lack of air supplied to his lungs decreased.
"I'm sorry," the voice above him would say, cracking slightly as she spoke.
"V-Vera?" he would managed to choke out before the hold would tighten again.
It would be then that he would snap. His fangs would grow, his strength would multiply, and he would overtake the girl, pushing her onto the bed, snarling from his new position, and, with his newfound lack of control, he'd spring forward and bite down on her neck.
There would be a deafening scream and he would wake up.
Which is why, the next evening, after having dreamt the same dream again, he walked down stairs, searching for the human girl that would usually be in the kitchen, eating some blood-free breakfast. However, that evening was the evening that he returned to her bedroom, rapped on the door several times, entered despite protests not to and met a pair of sad, golden eyes.
note: a rather depressing second-to-last chapter, huh?