Without a Sound

I woke up very slowly. First I was aware that I felt like I was lying on a cloud. When I opened my eyes, I saw that I was on the bed in the girl’s room. Mikey must’ve put me there after I fell asleep. I looked around and saw a pile of welcoming objects on the floor.

Slowly, I sat up. I found that it was a little bit easier. I didn’t have to try as hard. I still felt a little uneasy on my feet when I climbed out from under the blankets that were tucked tightly around me and got out of the bed, but I didn’t feel quite as bad.

The only problem was that my body ached like I had run a marathon the day before (or night, technically), even though I had barely walked at all. Who knew standing would be exercise? I suppose it’s acceptable if you haven’t walked in decades.

There was a note on top of the neat pile of items on the floor. It said:

Here’s some stuff. I’ll be back with blood as soon as possible. Mikey

Wow. Talk about being frank. At least it wasn’t hard to understand.

The pile contained: a few pairs of extra small jeans and sweat pants, sweatshirts, tee shirts, underwear, socks, a tooth brush, a hairbrush, special shampoo for blonde hair (which made me smile), and some hair bands. I was surprised at how much thought he must have put into buying all the stuff, especially the shampoo. I didn’t feel like I deserved it.

I decided to take a shower before doing anything else. It felt just as wonderful as before, and this time I used the shampoo Mikey had bought for me. Not only did it make my hair soft and smooth, but it also brought a little bit of color back.

I tried not to look at myself in the mirror again, but it really was impossible to avoid. Maybe I was just imaging it, but I think I looked a little bit less skinny. Well, skinny was an understatement, but oh well.

I put on jeans that were still too loose no matter how tight they were supposed to be and a tee shirt that was much too baggy. They were clothes, though, and they were mine. After that I brushed my teeth.

Then I went back to the little girl’s room, sat on the bed, and started to brush my hair. It was actually pretty aggravating. I started at the bottom of my hair, which was almost long enough to reach my knees. I felt like every time I got rid of one knot, two more appeared.

When I was finished, though, it was worth it. My hair actually looked good. At least something about me wasn’t hideously wrong. It made me feel a lot better. Just as I was pulling it back into a long, cascading ponytail, I felt that Mikey was getting close.

I tried to smile at him in gratitude when he opened the door and walked through, but all I managed was a grimace. I eyed the detestable thermos warily.

Surprisingly, he grimaced back and asked, “What, you’re not happy to see me?”

Immediately I felt guilty. Of course I was happy to see him, but how could that happiness stay with me when I knew I was about to hurt him and that he would let me do it? I tried to convey this message with my eyes.

He nodded, understanding. “I’d feel the same way if I were you,” he admitted. Holding the thermos, he added, “Here’s this. I know it doesn’t bother you as much.”

I hopped off the bed and walked to him, feeling like I had no control over myself. I probably didn’t. As soon as he took the lid off, the frenzy began, and I knew for sure I didn’t have any kind of control over myself whatsoever.

This time, since I was standing, the closest part of Mikey to me was, well, his face.

I watched, mortified, as I bit into his cheek just above his jaw. He sucked in a sharp breath, his muscles tensed, and he squeezed his eyes shut. It must’ve been painful. Or at least it looked like he was in a lot of pain.

Even before I was finished, he grabbed my shoulders and held me up. He knew that my legs would give out when I was finally released from the pull of his blood. This time I tried really hard not to cry; to be strong like he was. I just met his eyes and silently begged for his forgiveness.

And, of course, being the kind of guy he was, he smiled back at me. “Don’t be sorry,” he begged.

Wait a second. Was it just me, or was this backwards? How did this turn around so that he was begging me? How had it gotten this twisted? It was way too messed up for me to understand.

“Trust me,” he said firmly. “I deserve this.”

No. There was nothing he possibly could’ve done in order to deserve me biting him and drinking his blood every night. But I couldn’t argue with him because my voice had left me.

“Are you tired?” he asked, concerned.

I shook my head. I wasn’t ready to go back to sleep yet.

“Okay,” he said. “Want to watch a movie or something?” As he talked, he slowly set me down.

I tilted my head to the side. ‘Watch a movie?’ The words didn’t seem to make sense together. What was a “movie” anyway?

Mikey’s eyes lit up, and he looked delighted. “You don’t know what a movie is? How long were you locked up?” A grin spread across his face. “Wow, then this is going to amaze you. Follow me! Do you even know what a TV is?”

He started hurrying out of the room and down the hallway. I had a hard time keeping up with him. When I shook my head, he laughed. I followed him into the third door on the left of the hall.