ḾṎᕍ⁅ᖇṈ ℄Ṏv⁅ | The Lost Boys

ᏨᏲᾀᑬt⁅ᖇ tᏔ⁅Ṉtẙ-ṎṈ⁅

⚠️Warnings: talk of blood consumption⚠️

I took refuge in my room. Although I accepted everything (and I mean accepted in the loosest of terms), I needed space.

Blood. For the past couple of days, I'd been surviving on blood. The thought alone made my stomach sour.

I pressed as far up against the cave wall as I possibly could, the rock scraping my back uncomfortably, but the pain was the furthest thing from my mind.

I tucked my knees under my chin, staring at the wall. How was I going to tell Mom? This isn't something like coming home with a new tattoo—this was serious.

And the boys ... None of it made sense?

Suddenly, Dwayne's comment about forever made sense. He was asking me, legitimately asking me, if I wanted this. It was a bit too late to ask, in my opinion, considering they'd turned I practically the moment they got their hands on me.

Someone was coming. I straightened up—on guard—until I saw it was Laddie. The little boy whom I'd had practically zero contact with.

"Hi," I croak.

"... Hi." He stands, shifting back and forth in the doorway. Then, he comes inside. He stops a few steps from where I sit and thrusts out his hand.

I look in between it and him. Then, I pick it up. I have trouble making out exactly what it is in the low light, but I think it's an earring.

"Thank you."

"David told me to give it to you."

I purse my lips. I don't want to, but I feel a small smile threatening to spread. I stifle the feeling and lay the earring down on the floor beside me.

"It's beautiful; you can tell him I appreciate it."

"He didn't want me to tell you it was from him."

The corner of my mouth twitches. "Then you don't have to tell David anything. But thank you for delivering it."

He gives me a shy smile, pleased he was being recognized. Then, he asks, "Are you hungry?"

My stomach churns. I'd been drinking blood for the past couple of days. I swallow around a lump in my throat.

"No—no, thank you. I'm fine."

"Okay." He stalls a moment, really looking at me, before taking off. In the distance, I hear him speak. "She says she's not hungry."

"Thanks for tryin', bud."

A pause.

Then, footsteps. I don't have to look up to know that it's Dwayne. It makes sense that he would be the one to come. Marko and Paul were too eager, and David was, well, David.

He sinks to the floor, not walking into my room, staying just outside of it. He says nothing. There's a kind of solidarity in the quiet that makes me at ease. He's here for me.

The two of us sit in silence for ages. And, much to my surprise, I'm the one who breaks the silence.

"Was it like this for you?" He looks up. "When it happened ... did you want it?"

Dwayne shrugs. "I wasn't against it."

"Oh."

More quiet. "It's a lot easier than you might think. Turning. Feeding. It probably seems bad now, but ..." He trails off and shrugs again.

I nod, "I believe you." But I don't really mean it. Right now, I'm not sure I can even fathom it.

Dwayne can tell. His expression softens into something almost like pity but more like understanding. "We didn't mean to hurt you."

Again, I nod. "I believe you."

And I mean it. I haven't known the boys more than a few days, but I know. It's a gut-feeling, not quite an instinct, but a kind of rope that links to the boys. An innate sense of knowing them, like I'd known them for years.

I'm just not sure you trust it.