Page 29 of Fallen Thorns
Bess started to bark.
My head went fuzzy.
“Eat up, Arlo!” My mum’s booming voice rattled through my mind.
“Yeah, sorry...” I said, only no sound came out of my mouth. I tried again, more forceful this time. Nothing.
“You haven’t eaten your breakfast; it’ll be cold now.”
“I...”
Bess continued to bark, though it wasn’t her usual bark. It was more of a growl — too harsh to come from my dog, or any dog in fact.
The room expanded and squeezed in on itself simultaneously, paint dripping from the cream walls.
My mum was looking straight at me now, eyes fixed on my face.
“Why aren’t you eating?” she asked.
“I...” Nothing.
I’m not hungry.
“Arlo?” She looked seriously concerned now. Almost worried.Why is she worried?
“Arlo?
Sweetheart? You’re scaring me.
Talk to me.”
More growls ripped through the room — monstrous, terrifying growls. Wailing. Screaming.
Crimson leaked down the walls. Gushing faster and thicker.
Then she just stopped talking, looking at me with bloody tears staining both her cheeks. A pained smile ruined her face. I only saw red. Smelled it. Heard it. Tasted it.
I lunged over the table, glass shattering to the floor. I grabbed her by the collar of her dressing gown and sank my teeth deep into her shoulder. Bess barked, the sound returning to normal: a distress call. My mum cried out, arms thrashing, trying to frantically push me away, but it was no use. I was so very, very hungry.
I jolted upright,sweat dripping down my forehead.
It was not the first time I had a nightmare like it. Dreams that fooled you into a false reality until everything falls apart at once and skews your brain until it burns.
The nightmares began around three weeks ago, after I decided to work this out myself. It had to have something to do with adapting to the ingestion of my stress-imbued blood. States of sleep paralysis or hallucinations were common to me now, so this dream was nothing new. I was growing accustomed to dealing with these situations. Despite the initial severe disorientation and questions of my own sanity, I would just about manage to pick myself up again to re-enter the real world.
This dream in particular was probably the worst of them all though: a constant reminder of what my future held in store. I survived around Rani and my other acquaintances during the day, managing to ignore my senses and desires. But my mum? How I would be able to act around her was an intensely worrisome thought.She can’t ever know.Would I even be able to face her at all?
I allowed myself to properly awaken, reminding myself it was only a dream. I could control it. I would never lash out like that or let the creature inside take over. I managed perfectly well in my first month, so what was to say I couldn’t always be like this? I wasn’t weak.
Every morning before I left my room, I would cleanly cut my palm and drank until I was satisfied I would last the day. I was coping. No excessive hunger pangs or headaches. No more vomiting.
Of course, it wasn’t that pleasant, it definitely lacked the full satisfaction of the blood bag Mars had originally given to me, but I was getting used to it and my routine was falling perfectly into place.
I’ll admit I was occasionally finding it hard to keep my senses in check, overwhelmed by the constant presence of blood as I listened to hearts beating in lecture halls and on the streets. The closer people got to me, the more unbearable it became. The old me would have been repulsed by these sounds, yet now, I heard a heartbeat and envisioned the veins and arteries where blood flowed strongest, imagining how it would taste. Canines threatening to lengthen. But I dealt with it, slipping away discretely to take a little extra blood if needed. I knew these feelings would pass the stronger I became — teething problems, if you’ll excuse the pun.
I had convinced myself I’d survive living like this, but I’d never been good at looking into the future. I used to struggle picturing myself as an older person, and how my life and job would play out. I took each day as it came and felt somewhat content that Iwasmanaging.
I was allowing myself to assimilate back into an ordinary life, keeping up with Rani and my course mates as much as possible. I occasionally bumped into Mars, though each encounter was no accident. I knew why they were doing it, and I trained myself to stop caring. They continued providing me with blood bags (that joined the growing pile in my bathroom cabinet, rotting from the conditions) and stopped pestering me about them. I continuously reassured them I was using the bags sparingly, and if I had any questions I would ask (though I never did, so I was lying twofold). Instead, Mars talked to me as any friend would, getting to know me, and I them. I was beginning to view them as a friend too, as was Rani. That’s all I wanted — normal friendships. When we were talking, I could forget about how we met and just feel human.
