Alethea has always been awkward - eccentric, even. On a typical day she spends her time cloistered inside a tiny apartment hiding from the world she doesn't really understand. When her therapist encourages her to push herself outside her comfort zon...
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My lungs burned with every breath, as if I was inhaling napalm instead of oxygen. There might as well have been a noose around my neck for all the air I was pulling in with every gasp. But that wasn't the most unsettling feeling. Asthma I was used to. But why were my clothes wet?
I cracked my swollen eyes open to find I was outside my apartment, lying in a fetal position on the doormat. Mud caked my clothes to my body, and for some reason when I moved my skin felt tight and irritated. My keys hung above my head, dangling from the keyhole; light occasionally bounced off of them as they twirled around, searing straight into my eyeballs.
The last thing I remembered was leaving to go get groceries. Reluctantly.
"I knew it," I grumbled to myself. "Knew something bad would happen. I'm never leaving this apartment again. I don't care what anyone says. Rather be an antisocial hermit than dead."
As I tried stand my head swam and my vision blurred, but I managed to hold onto the doorframe long enough for it to pass. Pain throbbed through my body and intensified with each second.
My hands shook as I reached for the doorknob and tried to rush inside. Ungodly agony, along with the smell of burning flesh, greeted me the second my fingers brushed the metal. A shriek burst from my trembling lips and I fled away from it as fast as my feet could move. The pain radiated all the way to my wrist and the skin looked burned and inflamed as if I had stuck it in boiling water.
"Ow! Freaking, ow! What the heck?"
Holding the aching hand close to my chest and moving as close as I dared, I peered at the doorknob and tried to find the cause of my injury. Nothing seemed out of place or suspicious.
My first thought was there was a fire inside my apartment. Using my uninjured hand, I rifled through my pockets for my phone to call 911 but they were empty. Heart pounding and fighting for air, I stumbled down to the neighbor's door. No answer.
But if there was a fire, why weren't the alarms going off? And why wasn't there any smoke? I ran my uninjured fingertips over the wall near the door, but there was no heat. No indication anything was out of the ordinary.
Pulling my jacket down over my uninjured hand, I made sure none of my skin would make contact as I reached for the doorknob again. This time there was very little pain, but I could still feel a slight tightening of my skin, almost like a sunburn.
When the door creaked open and there was no sign of any fire, I was even more perplexed, but also relieved. I hurried inside and kicked the door shut, not caring the keys were still outside.
"Home sweet home," I whispered to myself with a smile. "I am never leaving this apartment again."
The sound of rustling and soft crunching drew my attention toward the kitchen.
"Hamhocks you had better not be eating my Doritos again, or so help me I will make bacon of you!" I shouted in the direction of the pantry.
The tiny pig poked his head around the pantry door upon hearing my voice, and just as I suspected cheese crumbs coated his mouth and snout.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sighed. "This is what I get for having a pig for a pet."
I moved forward to pick up the mess littered across the pantry floor and let out a breath of relief when I saw the bag of chips he had confiscated had only been Cheetos. Cleaning up took longer than usual, since my right arm was still throbbing.
"Your bacon is safe this time, buddy," I joked as I dumped the bag and chips in the garbage. "But you better stay out of my pantry, or else."
I turned to wag my finger at him, only to find him cowering in the corner of the kitchen, staring at me and shaking like a leaf.
"Hey, what's the matter, Hamhocks? Are you okay?"
He squealed and fled the kitchen at top speed, heading for the pile of pillows in the living room that he liked to root around under.
Frowning, I shook my head and muttered, "Crazy pig needs to lay off the junk food."
I passed by his pillow pile on the way to the bathroom, but decided to leave him alone. He could be a bit temperamental and stubborn – kind of like me. I guess it's true what people say about owners and pets being alike.
By the time I made it to the bathroom, I had begun feeling dizzy again and had to hold onto the wall as my vision faded in and out. Cold chills wracked my body, despite the fact it was summer and my apartment's air conditioner was set to 74.
"Oh God, what if I've caught some strange disease?" I groaned, and checked myself out in the mirror in an attempt to figure out what could be wrong with me. Dark circles underneath my eyes made me look half-dead, and all the color seemed drained out of my skin, which was paler than it had ever been. My dark hair was matted to my neck in a dark, reddish-brown sticky mess and some of whatever it was had stained my shirt. I quickly pulled it over my head and started the shower.
"Okay, okay, uhm, dizziness, cold chills, and headache are all signs of a cold, so maybe it's nothing bad."
My heart began to race and I clutched onto the porcelain sink to steady myself as the room began spinning. My lungs fought to draw in breath and I scrambled for my inhaler. Unfortunately in my haste, it slipped from my fingers and fell into the toilet.
My legs gave way beneath me and I collapsed in a heap on the cold tile. I tried my best to slow and control my breathing, but it was like my own body was fighting me. As my vision darkened and spun I thought I saw an objects in the blurs – a person or several people. I couldn't really tell. Their faces swirled into a blur of colors and the voice I heard kept whispering words like 'vampire' and 'transformation'.
When a pair of hands dragged me across the floor and into the tub I knew they were either trying to bring down my fever or planning to murder me. Since the man didn't look like medical personnel I figured it was the latter. All-consuming terror provided me with enough adrenaline to slip my captor's hold and I stumbled my way to the front door.
Before I could make it out, or even turn the doorknob, I was tackled to the ground. My mouth and nose filled with blood as the intruder slammed me face first into the unforgiving tile of my kitchenette. I fought hard in an attempt to throw him off, but his body felt made of lead. One of his hands had a stranglehold on the back of my neck and his knees pinned my back to the cold floor. In my panic I almost failed to notice the strange transformation I was undergoing, but when an agonizing spike of pain radiated from my back, my body began to convulse and morph into something horrific.
Inky black talons erupted from my nail beds and I could feel sharp fangs slice from underneath my gums. I caught my blurry reflection in the stainless steel oven and let out a bloodcurdling scream when I caught sight of the monster mirrored back at me. Soon the blurry image faded and was replaced with endless darkness.
