The Insatiable Curse - Tom Holland

PART I

"To walk with me you must die to your breathing life and be reborn to mine." - Dracula

Reader's Discretion is Advised: blood, gore, self-harm from delusion, cursing, death and vomit.

It wasn't a particularly eventful evening, but it surely was a harsh one. Tom had been plagued the past couple weeks with terrible haunting night terrors, paired at the end with a nice bit of sleep paralysis to top it off. When the sleep paralysis occurred, the only element he could control of his own body was how he was breathing, so panicked breaths that woke Zendaya were the only thing able to stop his terror. Sometimes he'd be in a cold sweat, other times extremely cold until his body realized he wasn't dying.

Tonight seemed like no different, and he was scared to fall asleep at the thought of it happening again, but luckily- there was nothing on the agenda for the next day... so he wouldn't be tired and trudging through his carpentry work. Now that was a waking nightmare. Zendaya turned over in her bed to see him staring at the ceiling and fidgeting with his hands under the soft glow of the moonlight through the semi-sheer curtains. They flowed to the tune of the light breeze outside.

"You okay?" She mumbled, half awake. He just nodded and she drifted back off, unaware of how mentally unwell he was at that moment. Blissfully unaware. The dreams were taking a huge toll on him atop his own self-destructive line of thoughts, but she didn't need to be worried with that- not now.

The dreams always started with a tap on the window. He'd get up, check, find nothing, and go to the bathroom mirror, scratch so deep into his face it would bleed, be mauled by an unhinged jaw of an unknown creature, then be back in bed... paralyzed.

A few days prior he had started spacing off in the mirror more, staring at himself in a trance, struggling to not dig his fingernail in his cheek deeper and deeper. As Tom lay, eyes fixated on the stucco... he heard it.

tap      tap    tap... scratchhh

He shot up from the bed this time. It didn't feel like his dreams at all, he still felt conscious as ever. Despite not wanting to leave the crack in the window to let anything in, his fear made him run to the bathroom in the master bedroom. Fuck. It's just another dream. It's just another dream! He closed his eyes and took deep breaths, evening out his panic in his chest. He looked in the mirror and felt a dissociative wave wash over everything. Sensations were numb and dull. He needed it to stop- he hated this much more than his usual dream. He grabbed his face razor and sat on the floor, disassembling it.

He picked off the hinge that connected the sea of miniature blades and they all clattered onto the tile. Shit. Most had fallen under the sink cabinet and made their way into unreachable crevices. He panicked more. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck and he knew the creature was coming. It would attack his neck and spill his guts. He didn't want the creature to come for him, and despite the eerie feeling of reality, he knew it had to be a dream. He grabbed the nail clippers and pulled out the sharp accessory tool from it, then, staring at the door in the creature's anticipation, beat the thing to it. He stabbed it into his carotid artery, and blood immediately trickled down the side of his neck and he was painfully aware that this was, in fact, far from a dream.

He had stabbed so far that the blood had started curling up his own throat, and he couldn't speak. He couldn't scream. He just lay back, choking on the floor until the door creaked open. His panicked eyes were blurred with tears and unimaginable pain. Shaking hands full of adrenaline and fear pulled the tool from his own neck.

Thank fuck! Zendaya please! please! He thought as slight gurgles of warm blood escaped his mouth. But, the blurry shape didn't really look like her at all. She had... red hair? A strange black coat? This wasn't the creature from his dreams either. What was... happening?

The woman... no... thing, came up to him swiftly and quietly, raised his head ever so slightly, and was... drinking him with a bite that he could honestly care less about. I mean, slightly more pain atop already unbearable pain would only lead to his limp body losing all form of consciousness either way.

This was it, and that creature was the last thing he ever expected to see. Hungry, viscous teeth and demeanor mixed with strangely gentle and calm caresses to the forehead that lulled him to death.

THE NEXT MORNING: 9:56AM

Zendaya woke to an empty bed and a widely opened window letting in the brisk morning air. She shivered and tried to pull the covers up more, but the need to use the bathroom outweighed her want for more sleep. She untied the messy bun she had fallen asleep in and sighed, rubbing her eyes and making her way to the bathroom door. "Tom? You still in there?"

Her grogginess subsided and she noticed a stark smell of blood, and a few flies that whapped her face when she touched the cold metal handle. "Tom?!" She yelled as the door flew open to reveal a small pool of blood around his neck, and the clearly lifeless body of her long-term boyfriend.

The man she had truly fallen in love with was dead. Dead. Dead. She fell to her knees in a gut-wrenching sob.

Her cry of disbelief made her limbs shake and her head feel dizzy and nauseous. "Oh god, oh god, oh god!" She didn't know how to move, her body felt so hot. She stared at the ground, kneeling by his feet, she couldn't look at his face. The phone.

She needed to call 911. She scrambled to her feet and used the doorway to prop herself up and tried to breathe through sobs. It wasn't working. Her throat was tight, raw, and closing in. "Oh god. Oh god." She leaned forward and threw up, thankfully missing her feet by mere centimeters.

She heard a cough and groan from behind her. "TOM?" She whipped her head back and rushed over to prop him up, slipping on blood and vomit. "FUCK!"