The Blood Glass
Thirsty
I laughed at him, louder this time. He was so scared - I loved it. Fresh adrenaline, for me and only for me. I had fed the lad my usual line, and as usual, it had worked wonders in his blood soaked veins.
"We can do this the easy way, or the hard way! You choose!"
I had drained him, staining my clothes in the process. It wasn't worth changing, though. I was probably going to make another kill later. Blood stained and ripped clothes added to the whole "vampire" look. I pretty much had this life down: Look scary, drink the blood of innocent townspeople, and stay in the dark during the day.
"I'm sorry," had been my last words to the fellow, but of course I hadn't meant them. It was another one of my signature moves. In the six months since I had been changed, I had been desensitized to pretty much everything. I was not apologetic, at all.
I walked out of the alley, head up high and chest forward. I smelled the air carefully, noting every distinct odor. Cigarette smoke, booze, spray paint, roses, coffee, sweat, nail polish. The scents you would find in any large city.
I was still thirsty... ugh. It never really went away, just got more manageable. It was easier to control myself. I decided to spiffy up my routine and go for a harder kill. I stood on the sidewalk, leaning against a street light pole. I knew I could rip it out of the ground if I tried hard enough. I felt the sudden urge to do it, and immediately corrected myself. That would get me somewhere I did not want to go...
My dream came driving up the street, in a black Mercedes Benz with darkly tinted windows - well, they would be darkly tinted to human eyes. I could see right through them, make out the words on the GPS. The car stopped for a moment, and I took the pause as an opportunity
I could be very quiet and very subtle when I felt like it. I crept over to the passengers side door, and got into the car silently and quickly. The driver hadn't locked the doors.
The seat squeaked as I sat down, and I knew I had blown my cover. The man in the driver's seat turned to look at me, and an expression of panic mixed with surprise crossed his young face. He looked to be twenty-nine, maybe thirty years of age. His hair was bleached blonde, dry, with bits of copper, yellow, and brass everywhere.
"Dude, get the HELL out of my freaking car!", he screamed loudly. I laughed in his face, trying to be as obnoxious as possible. It was easy for me. Ha, ha.
"You know this isn't your car, you liar. Who'd you jack it from? It's pretty nice, looks very new. Good job," I complimented him. What he said next shocked and confused me...
"Drake, shut up." I hadn't been called by my name for so long, I had forgotten what it sounded like. I had to repeat it out loud to myself, so quietly that he couldn't hear.
"Who did you call me?" I snapped at him. Was he a stalker? I wasn't sure... I would've noticed someone following me long ago.
"I called you Drake. You're my brother, remember? Do you remember me?"
"We can do this the easy way, or the hard way! You choose!"
I had drained him, staining my clothes in the process. It wasn't worth changing, though. I was probably going to make another kill later. Blood stained and ripped clothes added to the whole "vampire" look. I pretty much had this life down: Look scary, drink the blood of innocent townspeople, and stay in the dark during the day.
"I'm sorry," had been my last words to the fellow, but of course I hadn't meant them. It was another one of my signature moves. In the six months since I had been changed, I had been desensitized to pretty much everything. I was not apologetic, at all.
I walked out of the alley, head up high and chest forward. I smelled the air carefully, noting every distinct odor. Cigarette smoke, booze, spray paint, roses, coffee, sweat, nail polish. The scents you would find in any large city.
I was still thirsty... ugh. It never really went away, just got more manageable. It was easier to control myself. I decided to spiffy up my routine and go for a harder kill. I stood on the sidewalk, leaning against a street light pole. I knew I could rip it out of the ground if I tried hard enough. I felt the sudden urge to do it, and immediately corrected myself. That would get me somewhere I did not want to go...
My dream came driving up the street, in a black Mercedes Benz with darkly tinted windows - well, they would be darkly tinted to human eyes. I could see right through them, make out the words on the GPS. The car stopped for a moment, and I took the pause as an opportunity
I could be very quiet and very subtle when I felt like it. I crept over to the passengers side door, and got into the car silently and quickly. The driver hadn't locked the doors.
The seat squeaked as I sat down, and I knew I had blown my cover. The man in the driver's seat turned to look at me, and an expression of panic mixed with surprise crossed his young face. He looked to be twenty-nine, maybe thirty years of age. His hair was bleached blonde, dry, with bits of copper, yellow, and brass everywhere.
"Dude, get the HELL out of my freaking car!", he screamed loudly. I laughed in his face, trying to be as obnoxious as possible. It was easy for me. Ha, ha.
"You know this isn't your car, you liar. Who'd you jack it from? It's pretty nice, looks very new. Good job," I complimented him. What he said next shocked and confused me...
"Drake, shut up." I hadn't been called by my name for so long, I had forgotten what it sounded like. I had to repeat it out loud to myself, so quietly that he couldn't hear.
"Who did you call me?" I snapped at him. Was he a stalker? I wasn't sure... I would've noticed someone following me long ago.
"I called you Drake. You're my brother, remember? Do you remember me?"