Blood Bond

Everywhere I went it was Daryl, Daryl, Daryl! I hated him, but people kept telling me to love him! Impossible! After he forced me to love him, messed with my emotions, how could I forgive him? He messed with my head! I rummaged through the fridge, trying to find something to eat. Everything looked a bit...strange.

"Um, do you guys have the things to make a sandwich?" I asked anyone who was listening. A boy, Daren, walked in, talking on a phone. He held up his pointer finger, gesturing for me to wait a second.

"Uh-huh...Yeah, I got it...Really? Well, I can assure you I'll get mine together and we'll investigate. Okay...Thank you, bye." He set down the phone. "Now what are you yelling about?" Daren asked.

"I want a sandwich, but do you have everything?"

"A sandwich? I think so. Hold on." Daren walked over and rummaged through the fridge, rifling through everything. I got the impression he dealt with people all the time by how he talked so abruptly to everyone. Even on the phone.

"Here." Daren held out a sandwich and I took it gratefully.

"Thank you."

"Uh-huh. Sure," he said absentmindedly, picking up the phone again and dialing a number.
"Have you looked into it yet?...Well why not?" he asked angrily as he left.

Everything about him seemed to demand respect. Even the air he breathed. Damien didn't do that, but maybe Daren was in charge of something else and not a throne. Something more demanding. I put another mental note in my by-then mental journal to find out what Daren did.

"Maybe I'll just have to write all of this down..." I mumbled, sitting down at a table.

As I was eating I noticed someone drag himself into the room. He pulled out a glass of red liquid—most likely blood...or wine maybe. He glanced at me, guilt written on his face. I rolled my eyes and continued eating, ignoring Daryl as he rotated the glass, making the liquid inside whirl around as if it were a pool of blood. He looked down at it, but didn't drink it. I heard him mumbling things over and over until finally he spoke.

"Listen, I know it won't matter, but I'm sorry." Boy, did that tick me off.

"You're right. It doesn't." I stood up, but felt his hand grab mine. "Don't touch me, you leech!" I shouted, withdrawing my hand from his. He looked up at me with sad eyes.

"I'm sorry. I know I had no right to do what I did," he tried again.

"Ha. You know, you're right again. You had no right to make me love you. It's nice that we can agree on things. While you're at it, how about you let me out the door? I think we'll both agree that's what needs to be done." I looked at him, hoping he would actually take my sarcasm as a plea, which I couldn't bring myself to do directly.

"I can't do that." Daryl finally showed his true colors again and stopped moping. "I won't do that. Sorry if I got your hopes up," he said harshly. I scoffed at him.

"My hopes couldn't go up. They're stuck at the bottom of a trench. Now, if you'll excuse me. Since you won't leave me be, I will leave you." I stood up again and held my head high. No way would I let him crush me. I heard his chair slid across the floor, which meant he was standing up, probably to follow me. Oh, no way.

I took off in a mad dash down the hall and Daryl immediately pursued me. I turned corner after corner, but came to a halt. Daryl appeared before me every turn I took. I skidded and turned from him, running yet again. No matter where I went he appeared. He knew the house more than I did, so he had the advantage, but I didn't give up. I ran and ran, slowly getting more and more tired and dizzy.

Everything was becoming a blur and I couldn't tell the floor from the ceiling. I whipped around to see Daryl walking up to me. His eyebrows were narrowed, but he didn't look mad. He kept repeating one word to me, but I heard nothing. He started screaming it, but I couldn't focus.

As I went to run yet again, my legs buckled. I fell to the floor, barely conscious. The last thing I saw before slipping into complete darkness and silence was Daryl's face. He was absolutely terrified...