Reading Between the Lines

Chapter 8: Lots of Lattes

Sarvani's POV-

NOOOO, please no. Not again! 

Just as the vampire is about to sink his fangs into me again, my eyes randomly snap open. Good for me, though. I don't want to relive that moment for as long as I live.

The first thing that hits my eyes as I wake up is bright, yellow light. A soft blue and white blanket is on my body, keeping me warm from the severe AC. There's beads of sweat on my forehead despite the icy air in the room, probably from the nightmare I just had. Considering the fact that I'm just staring at beautiful backlit ceilings, I think I was sleeping.

But where the hell am I?

No, don't tell me that the vampires abducted me and now I'm here. If they managed to turn me into a human mimosa, then they can definitely abduct me and burn me over a fire or something.

I look at my hands, covered in scratches and bloody knuckles. The sleeves of my top are covered in blood, particularly on the left arm.

BLOOD?! Crap, is this all mine?

I launch my upper body off the bed, putting my hands on either side of me as I take breath after breath. My head is pounding, and I feel like it's about to explode any second. There are so many unanswered questions I have, and the eerie silence in the room just seems to make me more anxious. The way I'm breathing, it's as if I haven't taken a breath in days.

The walls are pretty neutral-toned, with the front and back walls being light gray and the side walls navy blue. The floor is made of dark hardwood, and there is a cornflower blue rug in the middle of the room where a glass desk rests on it. There's a picture of a smiling lady with a baby in her arms, but I can't really see who they are. On the back wall, there's a huge window that is covered by the blinds.

This looks like someone's office. But why am I in an office?

On the front wall, there is a giant glass panel with some buttons and a monitor. On the other side of the glass panel, I see another room. But unlike this minimalist and fancy one, it looks grim and scary. It looks like an oxygen chamber, with metallic gray walls and a lone white table in the middle of the room. 

It looks like a torture chamber, but maybe I'm stretching it a bit. Maybe an interrogation room? That makes more sense.

But even then, why is there an interrogation room connected to an office? 

Hold up. Am I at the FBI?

WHY AM I AT THE FBI?! I didn't kill anyone or anything! I DON'T WANT TO DIE!

Shit, maybe they're gonna take me into that torture chamber and kill me.

From the corner of my eye, I notice a giant vertical mirror on a shelf located in the corner of the office. Considering the fact that I feel like I was pummeled a thousand times, maybe I look the part too.

No matter how bad everything hurts now, I try and trudge toward the mirror to see just how messed up I look.

My hair, which was originally in a ponytail, was now loose with hair all over the place. My mascara looks like dried, black waterfalls running down my face. My entire body is covered in dirt and bruises, particularly around my torso. But my torso is also leaking dry blood stemming from a giant incision on my collarbone. My originally pink shirt now looks like it went through a bad and biohazardous dye job. My jeans and shoes surprisingly look okay, but my top went through a lot. It's now soaked with blood and almost torn at the sleeves.

I look in the mirror and notice the bite wound, sitting at the place where my neck and shoulder meet. I hate how it looks; it makes me look like I was branded, like a piece of property. I trace my neck with my index finger along the path of dried blood until I eventually reach the spot. Despite the fact that the wound is supposed to be deep, it's not deep anymore. The indentation is a bit shallow, and the bite itself is changing color. It's starting to close up and have a pinkish tint as if it's close to being fully healed.