Madeline Curtis, a runaway from small town in Washington, finds herself in the streets of Hollywood looking for a place to stay when she encounters a strange hooded man. In less than a second poor Madeline's entire life was flipped upside down and s...
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nine
'Y'know, hurting yourself isn't going to help.'
My eyes and throat were burning. It felt like someone had reached into my skeleton and began to pour literal fire down my eye sockets. It was the type of feeling you couldn't explain but you'd immediately recognize when you felt it. Although I'd never wish this on anyone. I was three seconds away from clawing out my eyes when Oliver clutched my waist and sped out of the gala in less than a second.
Outside, on the sidewalk, I tore the bottom of the dress from my feet, throwing my heels onto the floor to follow the smell of something beautiful. Oliver trailed behind me holding my shoes in my hand and I flinched at the click of them. I didn't want him anywhere near me, his presence was too.. patriotic? And I didn't want to be babysat while taking a meal.
I sped through the street in hopes that Oliver would leave me be and stopped in front of a dance studio a few streets down from the gala. A woman struggled to lock the studio up with her things in her hands. I watched them fall to the floor and as she groaned when they did.
She turned around to pick them up and screamed when she noticed me standing patiently behind her. watching.
"Oh my," She clutched her chest, "You scared me." She laughed awkwardly and fixed her hair before bending down to pick up her things. "Is there something I can help you with?"
I pursed my lips, thinking of a response. "I'm actually really hungry," I pouted, rubbing my stomach in circles.
She looked down at her purse before shifting through it, probably searching for a snack to offer me. I knew it was more torture for me than for her as she made a little song as she searched her purse slower than I'd prefer but after a few moments she pulled a banana out of her purse and smiled to herself before offering it to me.
"Actually," I pushed the banana away from me, "I was thinking of something sweeter." In a quick second, I'd gone behind her and snapped her neck. Her body fell limp onto the wet sidewalk, and maybe if I was mortal — or not hungry — I would've felt immediate guilt.
I propped her body up to reach my lips. I was hesitant at first, as if my humanity had come back into the picture to stop me, but then the scent of her blood became overwhelming and too much not to engage with.
Her sweet blood was like an electric charge through my body, it messily pooled in the lap of my dress and around my mouth. It was sweet, like a piece of candy giving me a sugar rush compared to the brain freeze I'd gotten from hunger.
I'd drained her dry but I was still starving. I left her there, positioned upright with a banana in her hand and stumbled down to the next town.
