Let's just say, it had been a few days of not understanding. I looked down at my wrist again after he ushered me back a few feet and he shut the front door.
"But you did this," I replied looking up, trying to find my voice again, "So why can't I go home?"
"I don't think you're ready yet," he replied sternly. He then walked past me and into the kitchen. I followed, "Damon, I'm more than ready. After all you've put me through?!"
Damon didn't answer. There didn't seem to be any food in the kitchen. Which, wasn't surprising, seeing as how he didn't need it, but seeing as how he supposedly wanted me to live with him, it'd be a necessity. Although, he did pull out something from the cupboard.
"Oh my god! How long has that been in there?!" I exclaimed, a sudden ripe smell hitting my senses once he'd pulled it out.
Then he set an apple in front of me on the counter. It looked as though it had just been picked off the tree, "Why does it smell so bad?!" I asked, backing away a couple steps.
"It doesn't," he replied. He even cut it open and showed me the inside. Completely fresh. I looked at him confuse, "Then what do I smell?" I asked. Maybe it was coming from somewhere else in the kitchen.
"The apple," he replied, "This is why you cannot leave," he told me.
I was so sick of the dance around the answers that I wanted to stab him in the face. "Why?! Because something in your kitchen smells really bad?!" I demanded.
He shook his head, seeming frustrated that I wasn't picking up on something, "Food will no longer sustain you," he replied, "In fact, it will repulse you," he walked out from behind the counter.
I stared at him, mouth agape, "What? Am I….?"
"No," he shook his head, "But you have been infected with venom…and you've drank my blood," he explained, "Which will the only that will sustain you now," he said, stopping a few feet in front of me.
"I drank your blood because you made me!" I exclaimed, my stomach doing twists and turns.
Damon nodded. He didn't seem to want to expand on that, "This is how it is," he replied.
My head was spinning. "You're lying," I hissed, glaring at him.
"You smell the apple," he said with a shrug, "I can't make that up. You can taste it if you want…but I wouldn't recommend it…"
But at his 'I wouldn't recommend' statement I was at the apple and I took a big fat bite out of the shiny red apple.
And then spit it out. "Oh my God!" I exclaimed again. I spit in the sink, trying to get the taste out. Once I'd settled down I slowly turned to look at him, "You're….not lying," I said slowly.
He shook his head. "Just tell me when you're hungry," he retorted before he left the room.
And the nightmare continued.