Twenty Third.
Katherine stared down at me, our eyes locked and I felt something coming from her gaze. It wasn't the love of a mother for a child, in fact I didn't think it was love at all, at least not as I had ever experienced it. I can only describe it as a very watered down sense of concern. My quick breaths were catching in my throat, I had no defense, no strength, I was a sitting duck for all intents and purposes. After what felt like hours she broke her gaze and slowly walked over to the dresser where she had placed a small plastic cup with a clear liquid in it, a slightly larger colored cup whose contents I couldn't make out, and a wet bath towel.
She picked up the small clear cup and the wooden chair by the door. Placing the chair next to the bed she sat for a moment and watched me struggle to breathe as my body writhed in agony. She held up the cup and told me to drink it. I was no fool, and there was no way I was going to drink that without putting up a fight. It could have been anything, wasn't I suffering enough already. What kind of mother can inflict this kind of pain on her child and then just sits there watching? But that's right, she wasn't a mother at all, that title is earned after years of love and devotion, not just handed to you because you give birth.
I tried to control the chattering of my teeth, to press my hopelessly chapped and blistered lips together. She stood slowly and I could see the anger building in her eyes. She looked down and grabbed my arm, squeezing it tight enough to cause the swollen skin to rupture. I couldn't help myself, my mouth opened in a silent scream, tears rolled down from my eyes uncontrollably. She poured the liquid into my mouth and held my jaw closed. I swallowed the fowl liquid despite myself and was then hit with a new sensation, healing.
The sores in my mouth closed, the taste of blood slowly receded. My throat which had been on fire began to numb and I was able to croak out a few sounds through my vocal chords. Slowly I felt the fire subsiding inside. I was able to form a few words so I asked what that was. She looked at me and smiled, not answering as she stood and grabbed the towel. She opened it up and covered my legs and lower body. Sweet relief washed over me, I even felt as though the chill in my head and extremities was starting to fade. After a few minutes she lifted the towel, turned it over and laid it just under my chin and across my upper body. I could smell it now, the towel was soaked in witch hazel, she was trying to help, but why? I didn't have the energy to ask. She told me to turn over and put the towel over my back. I looked over and saw the bloodstained sheet I was lying on, it was horrifying. Large areas of skin clung to the sheet held on by dried blood.
My feet and hands slowly returned to their normal color and the brain-freeze started wearing off. I was so relieved and my tired muscles were finally able to relax and I fell into a deep sleep, allowing my body a chance to heal.
When I woke a few hours later it was dark, there was a small light bulb above the bed that cast weak light down into the room. I sat up and realized that I was on clean sheets and had a long white nightshirt on. The towel and the soiled sheets had been removed and the chair was back in its place by the door. I was still a bit sore and my head seemed foggy. I raised my gaze, concentrated and felt the aches fade away. My skin was still very tight, but there was no more swelling, blistering or bleeding. Burns take longer to heal I reminded myself.
I heard voices in another room, but they were too muffled to make out any words. I thought about sneaking closer to the door to see if I could hear any better, but Katherine's hearing was every bit as good as mine, and as I turned to get out of the bed she must have overheard the creaking bedframe because the conversation stopped. I heard footsteps coming down the hallway, they were heavy and a loud, I knew that it wasn't Katherine. The door swung open and a rather large woman came in. Without a word she lifted my leg and turned me back in the bed. She must have been the one who changed the sheets and gotten me cleaned up.
I was stunned, but not afraid. I didn't feel threatened by this woman, just confused. Who was she? What was she doing here? Had she been here the whole time? She helped me get back under the sheets and then turned and picked up the colored cup that was still on the dresser and held it out to me. I was reluctant to take it not knowing what was in the cup, but she insisted so I took it from her. I smelled it the moment before I saw it, blood, glorious blood. I felt my fangs descend as I drank with an urgency I had never felt before. The woman had the good sense to back out of the room and close the door before I was finished.
Realizing just how hungry I was I called out, begging for more. When no one responded I swung my legs over the bed and rushed towards the door only to find it locked. I shook the handle trying to rip it off the door, but my strength was so diminished. I screamed and banged on the door, desperate for more, but no one came. Eventually I crumbled to the floor, ashamed of my behavior, my desperation. I crawled back to the bed, wallowing in self-pity, and eventually falling asleep.