Blood Donor
Chapter 23
“Mr. Way?” I look up to see the grim face of a doctor, and I know it’s time. “We’ve done all we can. It’s time to say goodbye.”
Goodbye. No, I won’t be saying goodbye…Not to everything anyway. I will be saying goodbye to the warm, soft figure I’ve become accustomed to. I’ll be saying goodbye to those beautiful golden eyes. I’ll be saying goodbye to my favorite flavor of blood. I’ll be saying goodbye to Frank’s human innocence. But it’s worth it so I don’t have to say goodbye to him.
When we get to the room, I turn to the doctor, “Can I have some time alone with him?” It’s a rehearsed line, of course. I know I have to sound the right amount of emotional. The right amount of desperately in love to need the time, but not so much that leaving us alone will be dangerous.
He leaves silently and I go to work. I don’t immediately bite into him. Instead I slowly kiss him. His hair, his forehead, his eye, his cheek. I kiss each of his slender guitarist fingers where his tattoos lie. Halloween. His birthday. The day that marks him growing older, but it will lose its importance now. I try to memorize his scent as I burry my face in his neck. I’m sure it will change once he isn’t human. He, too, will take on that rotted flesh stench that we all hold. And then I bite.
I drink with no abandon, taking in the sweet taste that will never again cross my taste buds. And all the while, Ava’s voice plays through my mind.
Drain him. Drain him to the point that his heartbeat feels hollow, but make sure it’s still there. It has to still be beating or he really will die.
I’m very conscious of his heart. It’s just like that first night. Its beating is slowing, growing weaker, and soon it’s at the point I originally stopped. But this time I don’t stop. I keep going, and he keeps fading. Only this time it isn’t joy and longing I feel. It’s the sorrow of knowing I’m hurting him so deep. And that’s when it hits me: I could never have hurt Frank. Accident or otherwise, I would have stopped myself before I lost him.
Thump…Thump…Thump… I pull myself away right as I hear the hollow sound Ava spoke of. This next part has to be quick, and I bite into my own wrist in seconds.
If his heart is beating, the rest is simple. He has to drink your blood. That’s a given. What you don’t know is that the virus has to be activated. And it’s activated by your will. Kind of like the healing. You have to will your blood to change him, and you have to trust that it will. Do that, and you and Frankie will have each other forever.
I press my wound to his mouth, forcing it open. Change. I think to myself. It has to work. It has to, because just like that first night, I couldn’t forgive myself if he died. Change. And then there is a change. His throat muscles contract, causing him to swallow. And then he begins guzzling the disgusting fluid that runs through my veins. His hands reach up and grip my wrist. He drinks for what has to be hours, but is in fact only minutes. And then he falls back onto the bed, still as before. This is the tedious part.
The change will be painful; I’m sure you know that much. He’ll be making too much noise once it hits. As soon as you’re sure he’ll live you have to get him out of there. I don’t know much about this hospital, so the escape plan’s on you.
On me. All on me. I begin tearing tubes out of him. An IV in his arm. A breathing apparatus under his nose…The heart monitor last, because they’ll come running when his heart stops. And then I grab him. And I run. I run because the window is too small. I run because as soon as I exit the room an alarm sounds and security pursues me. I run because I have to keep Frank safe.
I have to slam through a couple people before I’m out the door. And then I’m running right, down an unfamiliar street. I take twists and turns that should have me completely lost. But instead I find myself in a place I recognize. A street that I walked many times. And an alleyway where I personally experienced the change.
I duck inside and Lay Frank on the freshest looking garbage. Only seconds later he begins to scream. They are loud and piercing and they make my heart ache. He begs for someone to end it. For someone to make it stop no matter what the cost. And all I can do is hold him. I hold him and wish for it to end soon. Because I know when it ends I’ll see that silly full toothed grin again. He’ll be so happy to get his wish. I hold him for a couple of days before his screaming quiets to whimpers. And then he is silent, sleeping to regain energy. The sleeping lasts as long as the screaming, but I know it’s over.
When his eyes finally blink open and he looks at me with his blood red irises my breath catches in my throat. It’s not necessarily that he looks different. Everything about him is just…More vivid. His hair is silkier, his tattoos brighter, his skin smoother. He blinks at me with those eyes. Those eyes that speak of what he’s become.
“Gerard?” he croaks. He must be parched, “You look…Different.”
I laugh and kiss him out of sheer joy, “Oh, Frankie. It’s not me who’s different. If only you could see yourself.”
Realization dawns on his face and he reaches up to his mouth. When he brings his finger back there is a dot of black on it, and his face splits into that emotion that only he can create, “Gee…You…”
“Yeah,” I say, “Welcome to eternity.”
If he could cry I know he would. Instead he settles for hugging me as close as he can. We stay like that for a while before I have to pull back.
“Come on. We gotta get you something to eat. Blood isn’t as handy without you being my deranged little donor.”
He laughs, and we get up to go on our first hunt together…You know, a non-killing one, of course.
Goodbye. No, I won’t be saying goodbye…Not to everything anyway. I will be saying goodbye to the warm, soft figure I’ve become accustomed to. I’ll be saying goodbye to those beautiful golden eyes. I’ll be saying goodbye to my favorite flavor of blood. I’ll be saying goodbye to Frank’s human innocence. But it’s worth it so I don’t have to say goodbye to him.
When we get to the room, I turn to the doctor, “Can I have some time alone with him?” It’s a rehearsed line, of course. I know I have to sound the right amount of emotional. The right amount of desperately in love to need the time, but not so much that leaving us alone will be dangerous.
He leaves silently and I go to work. I don’t immediately bite into him. Instead I slowly kiss him. His hair, his forehead, his eye, his cheek. I kiss each of his slender guitarist fingers where his tattoos lie. Halloween. His birthday. The day that marks him growing older, but it will lose its importance now. I try to memorize his scent as I burry my face in his neck. I’m sure it will change once he isn’t human. He, too, will take on that rotted flesh stench that we all hold. And then I bite.
I drink with no abandon, taking in the sweet taste that will never again cross my taste buds. And all the while, Ava’s voice plays through my mind.
Drain him. Drain him to the point that his heartbeat feels hollow, but make sure it’s still there. It has to still be beating or he really will die.
I’m very conscious of his heart. It’s just like that first night. Its beating is slowing, growing weaker, and soon it’s at the point I originally stopped. But this time I don’t stop. I keep going, and he keeps fading. Only this time it isn’t joy and longing I feel. It’s the sorrow of knowing I’m hurting him so deep. And that’s when it hits me: I could never have hurt Frank. Accident or otherwise, I would have stopped myself before I lost him.
Thump…Thump…Thump… I pull myself away right as I hear the hollow sound Ava spoke of. This next part has to be quick, and I bite into my own wrist in seconds.
If his heart is beating, the rest is simple. He has to drink your blood. That’s a given. What you don’t know is that the virus has to be activated. And it’s activated by your will. Kind of like the healing. You have to will your blood to change him, and you have to trust that it will. Do that, and you and Frankie will have each other forever.
I press my wound to his mouth, forcing it open. Change. I think to myself. It has to work. It has to, because just like that first night, I couldn’t forgive myself if he died. Change. And then there is a change. His throat muscles contract, causing him to swallow. And then he begins guzzling the disgusting fluid that runs through my veins. His hands reach up and grip my wrist. He drinks for what has to be hours, but is in fact only minutes. And then he falls back onto the bed, still as before. This is the tedious part.
The change will be painful; I’m sure you know that much. He’ll be making too much noise once it hits. As soon as you’re sure he’ll live you have to get him out of there. I don’t know much about this hospital, so the escape plan’s on you.
On me. All on me. I begin tearing tubes out of him. An IV in his arm. A breathing apparatus under his nose…The heart monitor last, because they’ll come running when his heart stops. And then I grab him. And I run. I run because the window is too small. I run because as soon as I exit the room an alarm sounds and security pursues me. I run because I have to keep Frank safe.
I have to slam through a couple people before I’m out the door. And then I’m running right, down an unfamiliar street. I take twists and turns that should have me completely lost. But instead I find myself in a place I recognize. A street that I walked many times. And an alleyway where I personally experienced the change.
I duck inside and Lay Frank on the freshest looking garbage. Only seconds later he begins to scream. They are loud and piercing and they make my heart ache. He begs for someone to end it. For someone to make it stop no matter what the cost. And all I can do is hold him. I hold him and wish for it to end soon. Because I know when it ends I’ll see that silly full toothed grin again. He’ll be so happy to get his wish. I hold him for a couple of days before his screaming quiets to whimpers. And then he is silent, sleeping to regain energy. The sleeping lasts as long as the screaming, but I know it’s over.
When his eyes finally blink open and he looks at me with his blood red irises my breath catches in my throat. It’s not necessarily that he looks different. Everything about him is just…More vivid. His hair is silkier, his tattoos brighter, his skin smoother. He blinks at me with those eyes. Those eyes that speak of what he’s become.
“Gerard?” he croaks. He must be parched, “You look…Different.”
I laugh and kiss him out of sheer joy, “Oh, Frankie. It’s not me who’s different. If only you could see yourself.”
Realization dawns on his face and he reaches up to his mouth. When he brings his finger back there is a dot of black on it, and his face splits into that emotion that only he can create, “Gee…You…”
“Yeah,” I say, “Welcome to eternity.”
If he could cry I know he would. Instead he settles for hugging me as close as he can. We stay like that for a while before I have to pull back.
“Come on. We gotta get you something to eat. Blood isn’t as handy without you being my deranged little donor.”
He laughs, and we get up to go on our first hunt together…You know, a non-killing one, of course.
@MayMayChan
Oh its fine! Sorry it took 6 months for me to reply, this website is messing up for me so much.
4/1/17