Unapologetic Apathy

For the next few weeks, Frank would let himself in, give me a bag of blood, and leave disgruntled after a few minutes. We hardly ever talked, or visited for the short time he was there. He became the only way I told time, now. And I always met him in the foyer: I didn't want him wandering around without me.

But one day, as I turned to let him leave, he asked me a question. "But, where did you hide the bodies?"

"That's none of your business, Frank," I hummed without a pause and tried to disappear down the halls. He ran after me and caught the sleeve of my jacket. "Damnit!" I tried to tug away but he held on. "I have work to do, I'm very busy, let go,"

He scoffed. "What work?"

"Again, none of your business," I hissed. He frowned.

"I'll let you bite me again if you expand the deal," he said cautiously.

That got my attention. It wasn't like I was starving anymore, but the bagged stuff tasted off. Not as good as Frank's healthy, unpoluted blood. It tasted like nicotine, but it was fucking pure. I froze and licked my lips. Why was I subject to my own bloodlust? It would be the death of me. Frank always knew too much.

"What do you want?" I said without thinking. I didn't want to give him more room to roam in case something slipped and he told someone everything. It was dangerous.

"Information."

"Be more specific," I sighed.

"Whatever question I ask, you must answer truthfully," Frank told me. I opened my mouth to protest, but it came out in angry stutters.

"What? No! YOu- that- I won't- not for just one bite- whenever I want. I'll let you do that if I bite you whenever I want. I won't take too much, I promise," I bargained. I didn't want o give him information, but I planned on just lying anyway.

"No lying," he clarified.

"Fine." Just white lies, then. "You have a deal."

Deal after deal he made. I wondered if he actually liked being bitten, he made so many. Well, it was fine, because I liked biting him. He looked like he knew exactly what he wanted.

He crossed his arms and made a smug look. "Where are the bodies? Show me," he asked. I scrunched my nose in frustration.

"If I tell you where they are, you won't tell anybody? Take off your radio things." He nodded and took off his earpiece. I eyes him suspiciously. "Anymkre?" He nodded and took something off his collar. Now I wondered about anymore. I had seen one before, a few years ago, but I was not so sure how they worked. They were so small! Apparently all the recording was sent elsewhere, where others were listening. According to my studies.

"Follow me," I hissed, and he jogged close by. i began to tell my story, about the police coming in and me having to relocate.

"For the first few decades, I hid them in the cellar. But I was force to relocate when people started find out qbout... Me. Here they are," I explained, tapping on the hallways wall. It thudded through the empty, echoey house. A look of cnfusion formed on his face, then of realisation, Then of horror.

"Fuck, they're in the walls?" He gasped. I nodded with a smirk.

"took a while to move them, one by one out from the cellar. A mess, too. Better than them finding out about me, I suppose," I mused.

He winced. "Really? Are you just fucking with me?"

"No. You wanted the truth! Move that painting and crawl inside, if you want. They're all there. Well, some are in other walls, but you get the jist."

"Ew," was all he said.

"Yeah, and I had to move them all, some still fresh, some decomposing," I told him, and he groaned. He doubled over with nausea and I hid a smirk. "well you wanted to know," I argued.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Whatever. It's just gross. All those skeletons in your walls, missing people never found." I hummed an shrugged my shoulders. I supposed that was one way to look at it. Every corpse had an explanation: I was hungry as fuck and needed to eat. Eslecially in the beginning.

"You're a physcolath," he coughed.

"Hey, I needed to eat."

"Do you even care about them? At all? You killed them all," he whispered.

"At first," I admitted to him, "but then I started getting hungrier, I stopped caring." He looked at me with suspicion. I knew it was wrong, but it felt better than starving to death.

"Any more questions?"

Frank shook his head.

"Can I bite you know?"

"That's the first time you've asked," he noticed. I shrugged again.

"You seemed nauseous. Don't want to get vomit on my suit," I lied. I wanted him to feel comfortable. For the first time in a long while, I think I cared about Frank.

Even if Frank broke his promises, I don't think I could bring myself to kill him. Maybe his friends, but not him,

"Ugh. You're sick. Fine," he threw his head to the side. I licked my lips again, like Pavlovs dog. I walked the few steps over to him and took his head in my hands, holding it down. He tried to wriggle Out of it, but I grabbed his hair.

"If you move to much, I could hurt you. Stay still," I hissed. He whimpered a bit. I released my grip in his hair and dropped my hand to his neck, keeping his shoulder in place. He protested, saying he felt too vulnerable, but I snapped back. "I don't want to rip out your neck, now, do I? Just a little bite. I'll sew you up like last time, too."

He closed his eyes. I leaned in really close and took a big breath of him. He smelled like smoke, sweat, men's shampoo and blood. I opened my mouth and cherished the moment. With anybody, ripping out their necks was because I needed food desperately. Frank's blood was really good, like a treat to savor.

"Fucking do it already," he snapped. I bit down. My hands gripped his shoulders more tightly when I felt him flinch. I swallowed mouthfuls of blood, felt it run down my chin, staining his shirt. My hands were covered in red. I didn't want to pull away. It felt really good. I felt him kick my shin a bit with his hard boot.

"Ach, what? Am I hurting you?" I said through a mouthful when I pulled away.

"I'm dizzy," he claimed. I licked the rest of it off my mouth and led him to the room again. I pulled out the first aid medical kit and set it in front of new. His neck was still covered in blood, and it dripped down his chest and stained his shirt. I leaned closer to him.

"Stay still," I demanded. He listenned. I licked the rest off, getting more blood on me. I scraped the tip of my fang over his scorpion tattoo subconsiously. He probably thought I was creepy. I pulled away, wiping blood off my face with a bloody hand, just smearing jt around. Id have to clean up later.

I wrapped his neck up again, but as soon as he stood up, he collapsed on the ground unconscious.

Notes