Cries of a Love Bat

“Get off of him!” I yelled, pushing Pete away from Patrick.

“Emily,” Pete breathed.

“Pete you’re a fucken monster! Why the hell would you be drinking from Patrick?” I screeched, my anger clashing with Pete’s annoyance.

He growled at me; his white teeth were stained red and his fangs were fully grown out. His eyes were bloodshot and the bags under them were darker than his smeared eyeliner.

“Don’t touch him!” I declared. Andy began coughing and I turned to him. “What should I, uh, get you to help with that?”

“I don’t know! Patrick’s the doctor, not me,” he huffed. His eyes were looking behind me, watching intently.

I turned around and screamed at Pete. “Asshole you’re going to kill him! Stop being a prick and listen to me! You’re such a…a…ugg!”

Pushing Pete away was draining; he didn’t move. So when I slapped him he grabbed my wrist, pressing his fingers into my skin with a large amount of pressure.

“Don’t you think that Andy or Joe would be more concerned if I was actually killing him?” Pete spat.

I looked in his eyes and took a deep breath, counting to ten in my head. “No, you probably already killed Joe by the looks of him. Andy’s only next.”

Pete was going to say something when Patrick took a sharp breath, bringing our focus back to him. Pete’s teeth sunk back into Patrick’s wrist and he drank the blood, letting go of me.

“Don’t!” Andy warned, kicking me slightly with his good leg before I could do something “He’s taking out some stuff.”

I looked at him, confused. How could this be okay? Pete was taking ‘stuff’ out of Patrick by drinking his blood. How wrong did this hunt go?

Pete was still working with Patrick when he grabbed my hand. His eyes were looking at me, trying to say sorry. He pulled away from Patrick, turning his head behind him to spit up blood.

“I’m going to be sick,” I sighed, closing my eyes so I didn’t have to watch. “What should I do?”

“Joe probably needs an ice pack,” Andy noted. “And I need a towel or something to put pressure on this.” He motioned to his bad leg, still pressing on it with his hand.

I nodded and headed to the kitchen, while Pete spat up more blood. I grabbed an ice pack and a hand towel, after popping two Advil.

This was crazy. How could this have happened? And why me? Why did my life have to be so fucked up?

When I walked back into the living room Pete spat up Patrick’s blood on my shoes, not meaning to, it was just the timing and neither of us paying much attention.

“Sorry,” Pete mumbled, looking up at me from under his eyelashes.

I kicked his side a little, before handing Andy his towel and heading over to Joe. “I think he’d be better in his room.”

“Can you get him up there?” Andy asked.

“I was just going to wake him up,” I said slowly.

“Go ahead,” Andy shrugged.

I woke Joe up and helped him make his way to his room. He wasn’t as bad as I thought because he held his own weight; he just couldn’t walk straight.

“My head,” he moaned once under the covers in his bed.

“I know, I know,” I said softly. “Keep this ice pack on it. Yell if you need anything.”

Back downstairs Andy had stopped his leg from bleeding and he was in the kitchen looking for some Band Aids.

“Should I put this on it?” I asked, holding up a tube of anti-bacterial cut cream.

“Yeah,” he said, sitting on the island.

When Andy’s cut had been fully cleaned up he headed upstairs and went to bed, saying if anything happened with Pete I should come and wake him up.

Pete’s smile was small when he saw me come back in with a shake. He was tired and I felt it. His mind was racing and his body was ready to collapse.

“Bring him up to my room, so we can keep the patients together,” I whispered. “He shouldn’t wake up for a while…hopefully.”

“Sure.” Pete picked him up and I followed behind, giving him space.

He put Patrick on my bed and I pulled a sheet over him as Pete left.

“What am I going to do with you Patrick?” I sighed. “You come back almost dead. Do you know I don’t think I could make it without you?"

I bent down and kissed his cheek, leaving him to rest.