My Wee Mate

44 - Reborn. Renewed. Rejuvenated.

Fraser

The awareness of sugar sweet blood on my tongue is the first thing I feel as I emerge from the darkness, and it's the best taste I've experienced in my whole, miserable life.

My mind is still trapped in a dense fog, but I swipe my tongue along my teeth, savoring the flavor of it. It tastes like salvation, it tastes like life.

My vision is blurred beyond blurry, I can barely see a smudge of an image before me. Wicked shapes and shadows are all my eyes pick up on, a flickering light and a collection of shaded, stone walls. They torment me, remind me of my pain, of my torture. I swivel my head to look behind me. Those bars so far away are still destroyed, and I wonder if I should remember them, if their appearance should spark something in me. I know I should recognize them. Did I do that?

I don't know where I am, only that I do not want to be here. I think of trees and rustling leaves, water running in rivers and streams, birds chirping and singing with the fading light of day. I remember the moon. I wish I could see it. Not for the power it brings to my body, but for the sight of it in all it's lunar glory.

The next thing my sluggish awareness picks up on is that I am in pain, an excruciating amount of it. My skin is tethering itself back together, carefully knitting my body back in place. It is not a pleasant sensation

After realizing this, piercing together that wee bit of information combined along with the slick sensation on my tongue, I come to find that my belly is very full. So, achingly full that it's near to bursting, the fullness satisfies me well. I can't remember the last time I'd been so content, felt so complete.

The pain in my back dwindles as each second scrapes by, the skin burning and then fading as if it's being soaked in numbing cream. The bright, bleak pain begins to dull, my wounds closing rather quickly. It's all likely due to the amount of blood I've been given.

My senses are still at an all time low. My strength is still drained. The life saving blood I've somehow drank will take time to work in full, but for now it is doing enough.

I'm dimly aware of the slight body under me, my weight completely draped against a warm, limp thing. It's solid and somehow sends a shiver of tingles all along my front. All I can think about is my blissful, satisfied state. Despite the aches and the confusion, I feel so good. Reborn. Renewed. Rejuvenated.

I have never had this feeling before. Whatever happens, I know it will be enough to repair my body in no time. It's a miracle. I will live to see another day. I will recover. I will regain the strength so brutally taken away from me.

My lips are wet, so I lick them. The taste is fantastic, and all too familiar. I can't place it. My slow mind has no chance of knowing the taste, so I simply lay and enjoy it. I swish the flavor around in my mouth, swallowing it down. My throat doesn't burn anymore from thirst. That, I do remember. The all consuming thirst of the past that took control of me after going through the rigorous torture. It was my body yearning for repair that flipped on that necessary thirst.

Somehow, something came along to nullify that craving. Something came to save me.

Where did it come from? I want more of it, whatever it is, but my stomach can't possibly hold more fluid. I just want another taste. One more mouthful just to hold inside my teethe and flow against my tongue. The taste lingers, but not enough to satisfy me.

My eyes are tired, so they shut slowly. I stop all movement to conserve my energy. Somehow I know my body needs rest to heal itself. It needs complete stillness to let this blood flow through me and do its job, which is saving me from the dark grip of death.

Time goes on a bit, but the sound of a group of people nearing me irritates my senses as it rouses me. I'm in absolute heaven, the euphoria bouncing around my body is better than anything I've ever felt. It's shrouded by the realization that I now have company.

I hiss, bowing over my kill, my meal, that is still plastered beneath me. I must protect this life saving body. I must keep them from taking it away from me!

The voices get closer, and I growl at them.

".....killed her.... drained dry....was starving"

The hazy words don't register, I'm barely holding onto consciousness anymore as it is. My body wants to sink into the fuzzy haze of pleasure that surrounds me, wants me to shut off and heal. I want to stay awake. I want to stay awake so that I might kill, so that I might defend what is mine.

If I sleep now, they will take this away from me.

"....saved him....leave her..."

Someone's gabbing at me now, and I squint, still unable to see what's going on around me as fragments of sentences come to me through the fog. I flail wildly. Hisses and snarls and roars leaving me as I am grabbed and held by too many hands. They try to keep me from moving, putting fingers iver my loud mouth and hands to steady my arching back and straining arms.

"....get the bag.... hurry...."

I'm standing somehow, leaning against a muscular frame that is saying something that I can't understand. My fight is leaving me. I can't do much else to keep them from taking my food. I have to give up, and I hate it.

".... be alright.... you're okay..."

I hiss in response, trying to lash out and hit whoever said those words, but I come up short, hitting nothing but air. I groan at the spark of pain lighting up my side.

I'm moving, or we're moving I should say. Someone is carrying me away, away, away. Away from my hell, away from my agony, away from that thing that saved me.

As much as I want to be annoyed at the voices and the disruption, my high is still going strong and I can't complain about anything. It swallows my pain. It dims the anger and need to defend. This fullness, this blood, its put me at ease until I start to slip under it's influence once again.

Who can be upset when the world seems so right?

More tomorrow :) sorry for the wait!