This Blood Is Gonna Wake the Night

"Bert, stop the car! Please, stop!"

"What, again?"

"Please stop-"

He sighed and pulled over at the side of the road, where I wrenched the door open and threw myself out of it. The other door opened and Bert got out to crouch beside me and rub my back while I coughed and spluttered on the puke currently making it's way outta' my system.

I say puke but it was more like clear liquid due to the fact that our digestive systems work differently to humans. The blood dissolves into our own bloodstreams and gives us the haemoglobin we need and any raw meat consumed is sucked dry of the blood and eliminated into nothing a little while after it hits our stomachs. That's why we were always so thirsty back in that place. Our metabolisms work in overdrive as far as food is concerned so food proves itself useless for anything other than the taste.

I retched and hacked as more of it came spilling up from my stomach. Bert rubbed my back continuously and tried to speak soothing words.

"That's it, better out than in!"

Of course I should've known I'd get travel sickness really bad. Yet I didn't think about it when we were loading the car up and getting in. It's not one of those things you consider. All you think about is where the road's gonna' take you. You don't stop and go 'Wait, hmmm, am I gonna' get car sick? Hmm, I wonder!', do you?

"Is that it now?" Bert questioned as I slowly got up from all fours, heaving and shuddering.

"I think so. . ."

"God, you get car sick real easy, huh?"

"Yeah, I didn't think I would. . . but, then again, I haven't been in a car for a real long time."

"And it shows," He laughed, helping me up "C'mon, you good to go?"

"I think I'll be ok."

"Good.". . .

. . . I was grateful when the night came and we had to stop off in a motel. No more car sickness. Throughout the day, I'd gotten to know Bert fairly well. He'd just gotten a band together with some friends. He was headed to New York to see an old friend of his. He enjoyed drinking and having a good time at the bar. He claimed to be up for just about anything. He was a funny guy, really random.

When we pulled up, he handed me a fistful of bills and asked me to go get a room while he unloaded. But I just stared at the cash in my hands blankly, having never handled more than a dollar at a time.

"What's the matter?"

"I. . . er. . ."

"D'you want me to go?" He questioned.

I instasntly thrust the money back at him as if it were diseased. He took it from me calmly and jumped out the car, taking the keys with him as if he thought I would drive off. Good luck, I don't even know how to drive.

Bert tossed me the room key when he returned and I got out of the car. He said he'd bring the stuff and I'd go find the room. So I looked at the little tag on the key; I'm not too dense to find a motel room.

7

"Lucky number." I stated.

"Huh? Oh, right. Nah, my lucky number's thirteen."

"That's my unlucky number."

"A little stereotypical with lucky and unlucky numbers, aren't we?"

"Erm. . . yeah, I guess so."

I found the room with ease. We'd parked a few doors down from it. The room inside was a bedroom and a bathroom. It wasn't really very nice, it looked like it hadn't been cleaned in years. Bert wrinkled his nose as we entered and said we should've found somewhere else.

"God, and I thought my place was filthy." He exclaimed.

"It's not very nice." I stated.

He laughed and said he couldn't argue with me. I perched on the edge of the bed cautiously, half expecting moths and a cloud of dust to come flying up from it. It was that filthy.

Bert unzipped his bag and tossed a pack of diced beef at me. I tore it open and stuffed the pieces straight into my mouth without pausing for breath.

Sweet.

So sweet and warm.

He was watching me with crossed eyebrows while I hastily chewed on them, barely stopping in between mouthfuls. God, it was good. No where near as good as some sweet fresh blood would be but it would suffice.

"I swear that's not good for you." He said worriedly.

"It's ok, I've been doing it for years."

"I still don't think it's a good idea-"

"Trust me, ok? It's better this than what would happen if I didn't do this."

He shrugged and mumbled that it wasn't his business. I smiled sweetly at him and then returned to my delicious lumps of meat. . .

. . . So, the motel room only had a double bed, which made me feel incredibly uncomfortable. Bert had no problem with it, sliding in in his boxers and a t-shirt. I, on the other hand, felt very awkward sleeping in a bed with someone else. The last time I slept in the same bed as someone else was when my baby brother had a nightmare and I let him cuddle up with me to calm him down.

"Don't be shy," Bert teased "I won't bite. Unless you ask me to."

I'm not gonna' lie and say I totally understood what he meant but I guessed it was something 'naughty'.

I sighed and slid under the covers beside him awkwardly. He was stretched out lazily, arms behind his head while I tried my best to settle down comfortably. I wasn't sure if I trusted myself enough to be doing his. Mild insomnia is a little problem of mine, you see. If I were to wake up in the night, I could easily look at Bert's sleeping form and just go 'FOOD!'.

I'm not saying I can't control myself.

I can.

But ever since that time in that place. . . that guard. . . blood's been running through my mind. I had to get some more some time. . . much better than meat. But I hated the idea of killing someone.

Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish we were just thoughtless animals with no morals; only thinking of the next meal. Then it wouldn't bother us who we killed.

I sighed, shook my head and settled down into the icy cold thin covers to try and drift off into my own world of wonders.