Red. It’s what we all come down to in the end. Well at least me. Her eyes were red sometimes. The deep crimson color that was an identical match to blood itself. I looked deep into the eyes of my best friend, girlfriend and mate. I’ve never been scared of the fact that she’s a vampire. I found it kind of hot. I feel the breeze from the window that she snuck up in and am pulled from my thoughts. A thought suddenly appeared in my mind. Her deep crimson eyes will be the last thing I see, but they’ll also be the first.
“Are you ready?” Her angelic voice whispers, careful not to wake my parents who sleep in the room down the hall.
I give a mere nod as my response. She slowly makes her way to my bed, testing my reaction. I stay completely still and let her approach me trying not to show the fear slowly building up inside me. Not of her though, but of the pain. Her black beat up converse soundless against the beige carpet of my bedroom floor. I take in her appearance for the last time. Long, curly, pale blond hair that reaches her mid-back. Much prettier than my unflattering dark brown hair that rests a little above my jaw. And when she’s about to feed, her eyes are crimson red. It changes with her emotions. She has a smallish frame with moderate curves for her time. Her fingernails are always painted black with her middle finger painted a deep red. I hear her footsteps stop so I look up. Because I’m lying down, she has to lean over me. She lightly caresses my slightly tanned skin with her hand. I look into her eyes. They’re red now. Red to hazel. Hazel to red. A grin was placed lightly on her light pink, rose petal lips. Her hands make their way to my face and she pecks me on the lips. Then one on the corner of my lips, she starts to lightly trail them down my jaw line. I can’t help but smirk. She’s trying to make this as painless as possible for me. She reaches the hollow my throat and pulls away. Very softly, as if handling a new born, she removes my glasses and sets them on my bedside table.I then softly remove hers as well. She touches my forehead with hers, looking deep in my eyes and cupping my cheek with her hand. I softy whisper her full name, but I know she can hear it.
“Genevieve.”
She only goes by Needy, so she rarely hears her real name.
She catches my lips with hers again then sighs.
“You don’t have to do this,” she whispers. I can hear the pain in her voice.
“I have to, I can’t live without you.” I say as if it were as simple as that.
I hear her groan. She pecks me on last time then buries her head in the crook of my neck. She places light kisses around my jugular, which is also oddly my sweet spot. So I sigh.
“Are you sure?”
I roll my eyes.
“Positive,” I sigh. We've been over this a thousand times.
She pulls up the sleeve of her gray jacket and bites into her wrist, and then brings it to my mouth making sure not to dribble blood on my sheets. I put my mouth around the wound on her wrist on start to suck on it. It tastes metallic and coppery, but also sweet and sugary. I read somewhere that blood taste sweet when it has high amounts of sugar in it. Needy practically lives off of skittles and coffee. But I’m guessing she doesn't have to worry about diabetes. She positions her body to where her back is against my headboard and in sitting between her legs with my head against her chest. I’m still latched to her wrist while we’re moving. I start to feel a pain in my chest to a release my hold on her forearm that I didn't even realize I had. I start to hiss in pain. I’m about to scream out load but Needy must have sensed it because she covers my mouth with her hand, muffling my screams. My heart is pounding in my ears. I can feel the pulses in my body pound at an irregular rate. Everything hurts. I feel like my head is about to explode. I can hear my brothers light snores from down stairs in the basement, and the leaking faucet from the kitchen sink. I can smell the left over spaghetti in the fridge and the open wine bottle sitting on the kitchen counter. Needy feels soft than baby’s skin and my clothes scratchy against my skin. I kept eyes shut in fear of what I would see. Then it slowly fades. When it stops completely I sigh with relief. Needy removes her hand and kisses my forehead.
“The worst part is over,” she whispers against my skin.
“Do you have them?” she asks shakily.
I frown. She sounds as if she’s on the verge of tears. But I stiffly nod and sit up and retrieve the bottle of Prozac I took from my brother’s nightstand. I try not to think of Gerard, and I twist the cap off and put the bottle to my lips. I sneak a look at Needy to see her glaring at the bottle in my hands with a pained look in her eyes. In one swift motion, I tilt my head back and pour all the pills in my mouth. Needy hands me the bottle of water of the desk at the end of my bed. I chug the contents and felt the entire load of pills slide down my throat with ease. I hug her to my chest and kiss her on the lips one last time. I close my eyes and just as sleep or death are about to take me I hear Needy whisper,
“I love you, Mikey.” But I’m already under.

Notes

Comment to tell me what you think!
And I'm well aware that when you overdose you don't just pass out. it's a long process and every then with Prozac you're not granted a fatal outcome.
But comment away c: