There was something soft beneath him, something like...wool maybe? No, wool was pretty scratchy and this was just...soft. He dug his nails into the material, enjoying the sensation of whatever it was, pleasing his dry skin. He smiled and thought this maybe he was back in his old house, when he used to live with both his parents, and they had such comfortable material draped over every bed and couch. But after a moment, a sour stench reached his nose which seemed to come from somewhere nearby, and he scrunched his face. If he was at his old house, than something was very wrong.
After a couple minutes of trying to not breath through his nose, he noticed that there seemed to be a slimy material covering his chin and part of his arm. What was it? He brought his arm to his noise, and practically gagged when he realized the stench was coming from himself. Did he vomit on himself?
His eyes immediately flew open, and looked around seeing he was lying on some bed, restrained, with several needles poking into his arms and a desktop computer not too far away monitoring his health. He squinted at it, trying to get his sight back in focus, and read, 'Marshall Lee Adabeer now deceased. His death time was 11:19 pm on Friday October 13th.' He frowned, seeing that was clearly false, because he was obviously living and breathing, and even though his tone was little gray, he knew he was probably pretty healthy too. Then he continued to read further, and it said, 'Marshall Lee Abadeer time of resurrection; 4:14 am, Saturday October 14th.'
Wait, wait, what? Time of resurrection!? What did that even mean? He continued to read further, noticing it only listed a few more basic things, like his age and his ethnicity, along with whatever other little facts that were more or less relevant. But when he reached the bottom of the page, he saw something that made his heart stop. In a rather large font it read, 'Marshall, if you're awake and reading this, look in the mirror, I think you'll find something very interesting...' So he did so, twisting his body around to take a good look at himself, and simply tilted his head and blinked. There was nothing. Well, of course there were objects, like the bed and the green painting above him, but that was all there was. No Marshall.
He rubbed his eyes, maybe wondering if he was dreaming. He then pinched himself as hard as he could, and when he noticed he broke skin, he decided he wasn't. Perplexed by the situation and how he couldn't even see himself, he wobbled out of bed, while simultaneously pulling several little needles out of his arms. Little trails of blood dripped down his arm and he couldn't help but notice how attractive the smell was. He brought his arm to his mouth and licked a small bit, and instantly felt euphoric.
Almost drunk off his own blood, he stumbled out of the room and down the stairs, his only coherent thought being 'I want more'. He heard noises not too far off, and a couple of voices, one distinctly younger than the other, but decided he just could care less. So he walked through the hallway through to the front door, and once he got outside, he ran for it. All he wanted was more. Didn't matter where it came from. He just wanted more. Whether it came from an animal or a human, or even a stupid little insect, he just wanted as much as he could have.
After a few minutes of running aimlessly around, he noticed a small squirrel in a tree, comfortably sleeping. He then crept up to it, and made sure to be quiet, sure his meal would run away if he made any noise whatsoever. He leaned over and with one swift movement, he grabbed the squirrel by the neck and started to choke it. He dug his fingers as deep as he could, feeling blood make contact with his hand. He then leaned forward a ripped off a small stick from a tree, getting ready to use it to get to the juicy parts. He twisted it around and practically tore it apart, ignoring it's whimpers and cries, trying to get every last drop of what he wanted. After a few minutes, he tossed his meal aside, its lifeless body stark against the grass, and wiped his mouth, only smudging a splatter of blood along the way.
Then all at once, his thoughts and feelings took over, and he realized what he had done. He had just killed a squirrel and sucked it's blood. He just killed a squirrel and sucked it's blood. He just took a life away, a vulnerable animal at that, and sucked it dry. Even worse, he remembers every second of it. He remembers the way the squirrel stopped struggling in his arms and how it went limp not too long after, and how he just kept going. How he just keep licking and slurping at the blood that was dripping out of its now matted abdomen, and how he just tossed it aside. He felt strongly sick to his stomach, and noticed as he looked down that his skin was settling to paleish grey, and that he looked even weaker than before.
He collapsed onto the floor and began sobbing, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. His hair was sticking to his face and his back was sweaty, even though the sun was barely up, and the tears the were continuously falling did no help. Everytime he tried to calm down, his thoughts whirled in his main, and all he could do is sit there and cry helplessly. What could he do? He just killed an animal, for no reason at all, accept that he was overly fond of the taste of blood all of a sudden.
So as the sun began to rise and felt like his skin was sizzling off, he heard the roar of his moms familiar car. Why was she here so early? Suddenly a sense of panic rose through him, and he had no idea what to do. His mom was only about 50 feet away, and if he made a run for it now, she'd probably get pretty pissed at him, but if she also saw the blood on his face and clothes, she'd probably get so scared and worried for him, that she'd send him to a mental ward. Not that he'd blame her if she did.
He saw her practically jump out of her car and run towards him, saying, "Sorry I came so early...but I have a job interview and..." She dropped mid-sentence, staring at her blood stained son. He stared back at her, deep into her depthless eyes. Her eyes dropped to his mouth, and noticed all the blood around it, and sighed. She shifted her gaze to his right, and noticed the lifeless creature next to him, its limbs strewn carelessly about. She leaned forward, her face completely swept of emotion, and gripped his arm tightly, digging her nails into him, leaving small and red half moon crescents, and began pulling him to the car. By the time he was basically shoved into the back with a seat belt tightly strapped onto him, he saw Bubba in the rearview mirror running as fast as he could towards the car.
Bubba, of course! Maybe if he could show his mom what experiments they were doing in Bubba's home, she'd realize what had happened to him, or maybe actually understand it, unlike he did, and help him. But as soon as Marshall turned around to stare at Bubba through the trunk window, he saw his parents pulling him back inside, ripping the bag from his hand and tossing the contents over his grass.
As his mom started the car and began to drive, he realized his last memory would be of Bubba holding onto Hambo and crying, and wondered how lonely his life was really going to become.
A/N Okay so this site is being really idiotic bc this is the 3rd time i've had to post this chapter and it keeps messing it up /3 I really apologize to any of you who had to read the previous version or the one before it. Hope it actually works this time!