River of Red

XVIII

I couldn't get out of the room.
No, I was not stupid, but the door handle wouldn't budge.
I had been trying to leave for hours now, and I started to realize I may not be a guest, but a prisoner.
It had finally caught up to my exhausted brain that this wasn't normal.
At all.
As I mulled over the past few days in my head, I ended up creating a list of all the weird things so far.
Day one: mom beat me near death.
Day two: saved by a vampire and stayed in his house.
Day three: nearly drowned by children mermaids. (Weirdest so far.)
Day four: kidnapped by two crazy vampires, but finally escaped.
Day four: I left Nolan due to a bad feeling.
Yeah, I got bad ju ju off Nolan, so I left. I just had a strange gut feeling he was the one from the prophecy. But that's crazy. I think?
Day five: kidnapped again by a crazy hot vampire who is very mean.
Day six: well, let's see what happens.
Considering I had no idea if it was day or night, I really had no clue how long I had actually been in this supernatural world. Domitius kept creeping into my mind, and I was actually thankful, for it moved my mind off of Nolan.
Pushing that out of my mind, I pulled again at the door handle, but in vain. It didn't move.
I slumped against the door, sliding down the smooth wood. The floor was flat, smooth, shiny, it made me long for my room at home, which had rough wood floors.
I longed for my mismatched bedroom, my dark wood furniture, my ocean theme and my old flower blanket I could never seem to get rid of.
I sighed, leaning my head into my hands. I knew I could never go back o that life. I was Katrina the savior, not Katrina the girl.
Some small part of me thought it was a good thing this happened to me, but another part of me wondered what would have happened if I had been normal and died that day on the road. My mom wouldn't care, no one would know who killed me. They would probably feel sorry for my mother, trying to comfort her as though she's the victim.
That thought made me sick inside.
There was a knock at the door.
I hurriedly picked my sore body off the floor, coming to stand in front of it.
I had a plan for this very moment.
As the door opened, I ducked behind the dresser. Quickly, faster than the eye could see, I flew out the door. In the hall, I fell into a fighting stance, expecting to fight a guerrilla war to escape, but no one was there.
I let out a breath, then flew down the hall we walked yesterday, since I had memorized the way to the front door already.
As I rounded the first corner I slammed into a body.
Of course.
It was Domitius.
His large hands settled on my shoulders, holding me in place. Part of me was thankfully he hadn't thrown me on the ground as he had yesterday, but another part of me was scared out of her wits. I found that I couldn't meet his eyes, so I looked at his chest instead.
"Hmm," his voice was deep, wonderful, "are you hungry?"
His question took me by surprise. Was I hungry? A low growl from my stomach answered his question.
I slowly nodded, keeping my eyes trained on his black button up shirt.
His hands abruptly left my shoulders, "Follow me, we can talk after a meal."
So I followed him.
___________________

The kitchen was huge.
It was set up with a brand name range and hood, Samsung fridge, matching Samsung dishwasher, microwave, and wine cooler.
It was amazing.
The cabinets were ornate, the style old yet new, like a mash up of the two.
It was strange that a vampire would have such a nice kitchen, yet doesn't cook meals.
I looked to him, bent looking into the fridge. He stood up straight, two things in his hands.
It took me a moment to realize what it was he was holding.
Blood bags.
He tossed one to me easily, and took a sip of his. My lips turned down in disgust.
He lifted his perfect lips off of the tube.
"What? Do you not like O negative?"
I frowned, and figured he was joking.
"I don't eat your diet."
His lips turned down, "Your a vegetarian?"
I nodded, I thought it meant I didn't like blood.
I was wrong.
He laid his bag onto the counter, snatched mine, placed it back in the fridge, then disappeared.
Three seconds later he came back with a dead squirrel in his hand.
I gasped, appalled at the tiny limp creature. It's lifeless orbs stared at me, seemingly looking at me and at nothing at the same time.
I almost cried for the squirrel.
The tiny creature reminded me of Gravel.
Oh no, Gravel.
Domitius looked confused by my reaction.
"What do you eat?" His eyebrows scrunched together.
I scraped my eyes off of the poor squirrel.
"I eat people food." I met his eyes, his confusion drowned me. His face fell blank. Turning, he threw the little squirrel into the trash can, making a thump noise as it landed at the bottom.
He walked to the fridge again, and pulled out another blood bag.
I raised my hands, trying to get my point across.
"I-I don't eat people."
He sauntered over to me, taking his sweet time, and stopped one foot away from me. Slowly, he leaned closer to me, until our noses were only inches apart. I lowered my hands to my sides, curling my hands into fist to stop them from shaking. His hand found my own, prying my fingers open, and dropped the bag into my cold, shaky palm.
"Eat it." His words were slow, like he was speaking to a child.
He stepped away, and I drew in a raspy breath. With his gaze burning into me, I slowly raised the tube to my mouth. It smelt of copper, metallic, a little like water.
I took a tentative sip, expecting it to be as nasty as it smelled.
Instead, a kaleidoscope of flavors burst onto my tongue. I tasted alcohol, meat, cigarettes, burgers, fries, and life. I knew I was drinking a man's blood, but I don't know how. Maybe it was the flavors, I may never know.
I lowered the tube from my lips.
Domitius looked satisfied, he too was drinking from a bag.
"Good?" His voice was smug, like he knew my answer.
I barely managed a nod.
Is blood supposed to taste good? Am I allowed to want it?
I drank more, but too soon it was all gone.
Domitius took a look at me, threw his empty bag away, and gestured to the living room.
"Lets talk. Shall we sweet?"