soft vampire (Yandere Twilight)

[3]

The golden light of the setting sun seeped through the cracks in the leaves, casting my little hiding spot in a warm glow, but I didn't move. The day had crawled by slowly, the sun too bright and the field too crowded with hikers for me to feel safe. Every sound of a twig snapping and voices carried on the breeze had sent a ripple of tension through my body, keeping me rooted in the shadows of the bush.

My arms stayed wrapped around the rabbit's limp form. Its body was light now, drained of warmth and blood, but its weight still grounded me. There was something about holding it, about the softness of its fur, that felt comforting. It reminded me of last night before hunger had stripped it of life. When it had been warm, trembling, soft against my hands.

The sound of a voice pulled me from my thoughts.

"There's nobody around. You can come out."

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. The voice was familiar, smooth and steady, like the murmur of a stream. It was him—the man from yesterday. My grip on the rabbit tightened instinctively as I shifted my weight, leaning forward to peer through a thin gap in the leaves.

Our eyes met. His golden gaze was calm, watching me without a trace of threat or urgency.

'Why is he back?'

"Have you been in there all day?" he asked, his voice gentle but curious.

I didn't respond. My eyes stayed locked on him, wary. Slowly, I tilted my head, studying his face for any sign of malice. There was none. Still, I didn't trust it. After a moment of hesitation, I moved, crawling out of the bush the same way I'd gone in. My movements were quick and deliberate, and as soon as I was free, I turned to face him, my muscles tensed in case he tried anything.

He didn't move. He simply stood there, his hands loose at his sides, giving me space. His presence was unnervingly still, his pale skin catching the last rays of sunlight like polished stone.

I took a cautious step to the side, shifting away from the bush so it wasn't a barrier between us anymore. My eyes never left him, tracking every shift in his expression.

"Did you enjoy the rabbit?" he asked after a moment, his tone light, almost conversational.

I glanced down at the carcass in my arms, my fingers curling protectively around it. I nodded once, quick and curt. His expression softened, his golden eyes lightening as he smiled faintly.

"That's good," he said, taking a careful step closer. "I can get rid of that for you if you want."

The suggestion sent a jolt through me, my body heating with an instinctive flare of anger. My lips pulled back slightly, and I clutched the rabbit tighter to my chest, glaring at him. It was mine. He couldn't have it.

He paused, his hands lifting slightly in a placating gesture. "You want to keep it? That's okay. It's yours."

"Soft," I whispered, my glare faltering as my thoughts drifted back to last night. To the warmth of the rabbit when it was still alive, trembling in my hands.

"Rabbit fur is quite soft, isn't it?" he said, his tone gentle.

I didn't respond, but my fingers traced absent circles over the fur, remembering.

"Warm. Soft," I murmured, my voice barely audible.

His smile grew slightly, though it didn't feel mocking or patronising. "We can find another one for you to eat tonight," he offered. "You must still be thirsty."

At his words, I tensed, my fingers tightening against the rabbit's cold body. "No," I said sharply, shaking my head. My voice was firmer this time, though I still took a hesitant step back.

"No?" His tone wasn't questioning, not really. He sounded curious, as if he were trying to understand. "You can't be full after just that."

"No hurt, rabbit," I said, my words halting but insistent. "Soft. Warm." My gaze darted to the rabbit in my arms, my thoughts circling back to how it had felt last night—alive, gentle, fragile. I wanted another one, but not to eat.

Understanding flickered across his face, and he nodded slowly. "I see," he said, his voice even softer now. "You like holding them. They're comforting to you."

I didn't answer, but the tension in my shoulders eased just slightly. He seemed to understand—more than most people might, at least.

"Alright," he said, carefully stepping back, giving me space again. "No hurting rabbits. We'll find one for you, just to hold. Does that sound alright?"

I stared at him for a long moment, my grip on the rabbit loosening ever so slightly. I didn't nod, but I didn't say no, either.

"Okay," he said gently, as though my silence had been answer enough. "We can try that."

He stayed still, watching me with that same unflinching patience.

27th November 2024
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