Vampire Residence

XXXIX

True to their word, Daci and Eleanor made sure to keep Avery well-fed, providing a steady supply of fresh blood to satisfy his new hunger. It was disgusting, more than a little disturbing, but Avery was quickly learning that it was a necessary evil.

He was now beginning to feel a little more normal. He moved a little differently than before, stronger and more agile than he was used to. He was also hyper-aware of his new teeth; they were still strange to him, almost too sharp.

Eleanor had noticed his discomfort.

One night, as he was getting ready for bed, he heard a soft knock on his bedroom door. "May I come in?" she called through the wood.

"Sure," came his reply. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring out the window into the night.

The knock and her voice didn't startle him; he had become quickly attuned to small noises in the house, almost able to feel the air move when someone stepped through a doorway.

The door opened a moment later, and Eleanor stepped into the room, closing the door carefully behind her. She approached him and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"You've been quiet tonight," she said gently. "What's wrong?"

"Just tired," Avery said with a slight shrug. It was the easiest answer, but it felt a bit dishonest. It was true that the hunger was exhausting, draining him in a way that normal human tiredness never could, but he also knew that wasn't what Eleanor was asking about.

Eleanor studied him, her gaze lingering on his face. "You are still adjusting," she said softly. "That is perfectly normal. But I know there is more to it than that, something that's troubling you. You can tell me, you know. I want to help."

Avery was silent for a moment. He knew that it would do him little good to try to hide his feelings from her, especially when she had been able to pick up on them so easily. Still, it was awkward to admit what was lingering on the edge of his mind.

"You'll think it's stupid," he mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

"No, I won't." She gently laid a hand on his arm with a smile. "Please, tell me what's bothering you."

He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm just..." he started, struggling for the right words. "I'm just... I keep thinking about how I'm different now. How I've changed. And I don't just mean this." He gestured broadly towards the rest of his body, the gesture encompassing all the changes his body had undergone.

"I mean... everything. My thoughts, too. Everything's sort of- shifting, I guess. Recalibrating, if that makes sense. I'm not... I don't feel like the same person inside as I was three days ago. A part of me still feels like that scared, helpless boy that you found on the floor by the bed, if that makes sense. And... part of me feels like this," he finished, gesturing at himself again.

Eleanor nodded, her hand still resting on his arm. "It makes perfect sense. You are still getting used to the changes your new body is going through. This is perfectly normal." She squeezed his arm gently, reassuringly. "I know it is hard, but the feeling will pass. I remember feeling much the same when I was turned."

Avery's eyes widened slightly, the information surprising him. He had wondered about it, of course, but he hadn't dared to ask.

"You do?" he asked, and then, a moment later, a realization dawned on him. "Wait, you mean... you were like me?"

Eleanor nodded, a small, almost self-conscious smile appearing on her face. "I was... quite young when I was turned," she admitted. "Almost too young to remember how I was before if I am being honest. But I do remember the fear, the confusion. The sudden onslaught of unfamiliar sights and smells and thoughts. And the feeling of being... being more than human."