The Last Corvus (completed)

Ch. 25 Isadora

Chapter 25

Isadora

As I thought, the spare shed key is under the rock next to the door. Aunt Molly was never much into gardening around the house, so the shed is pretty much empty except for the unopened bag of potting soil and the odd rake or shovel. Its freezing inside, nothing like the heat still radiating from the sidewalk. The two sides of the back fence cornering it always keeps it in the shade, making it always a good twenty degrees colder than outside.

I sit on the only available seat (the rock solid potting soil) and rest my chin on my knees. What am I doing here? I try to contain the waterworks, but the tears flow, running down my scarred neck and soaking into my collar. As my shirt starts to stick to my chest my mind flashes back to Henry's attack, of my bloodstained tunic. Even in the dark I can tell where the red fabric ends and my blood's stains begin.

I can smell my tears moistening the blood, making me crave it again. Repulsed at wanting my own blood, or any blood for that matter, I rip off my shirt and fling it as far away as the small shed will allow. It lands on the handle of the rake and it swings there, morbidly taunting me.

I sit here, shivering in my bra, and start crying again. I don't shiver because I'm cold, I'm comfortable even though I know I should be cold, but because I'm scared.

I have no idea what to do.

I'm getting thirsty, all the crying finally taking it's toll, but I'm too afraid to leave the shed; what if I try to eat someone else? I imagine cool, sweet water running down my throat; but then it starts to change, growing thicker, metallic, and I know it's a deep red color. My body instinctively knows how I crave for it, long for it, and knows how (if I just give in) it will satiate me more than water ever could.

My gums ache, yearning for something to sink my teeth into and I bite my tongue... hard. What little blood escapes the tissue before it heals over a split second later trickles down my throat, soothing my sore esophagus. I bite my tongue again, and again, and again, until my thirst is finally sated.

I feel like I'm going to puke, strangely thrilled and equally repulsed by my gorging on my own blood. My body isn't willing to let go of what it's just been fed and nothing comes up as I gag on my own tongue.

What am I doing here? I can't stay here, but I can't leave either. If I stay here, I'm afraid I might actually bite off my own tongue, and I don't know if I can regenerate whole limbs. To be honest, I really don't want to have to find out. Yet if I leave I might try to eat someone again, and I can't afford to have that on my conscience. I could go back to the Complex, but I don't think I could stand answering all their questions, facing Walter and knowing what I almost did to him, to that hobo.

I've been sitting here for nearly five hours, just sitting here in the dark, not doing anything. I have to get out of here, I don't care about the consequences, I just need to get out. I rarely have claustrophobia, but I'm starting to get it now.

Reaching the street, I'm relieved to notice there isn't anyone walking about. Blessedly convenient. I set off at a jog and slowly grow faster, luxuriating in the way my muscles move under my skin, the way they bunch and release. The wind on my back, whisking away whatever sweat there might be as my hair flows against it.

Wait; what? I stop running and look down, right at my pale yellow bra. Oh, no! My shirt. Scanning my surroundings quickly, I cover my exposed self and "super-sprint" away just as someone is turning toward me from their front porch. That was waaaaay too close.

I continue running, once again loving the feel of the wind on my skin, through my hair. Reaching a deserted street, I spread my arms wide for the brief moment until I'm once again in a populated neighborhood. No one is outside at this early hour and I'm so glad all anyone could see (even if they were specifically looking) is a possible blur in front of a window.

I finally understand why vampires like the night so much; even if the old ones can't usually be in the sunlight.

The wind is picking up, causing an unnecessarily cold breeze to whip my face. My brain says I should be freezing, but my body only registers the same nice temperature it did back in the Complex.

Another ability; never getting cold? It makes sense, I know I should have been freezing back at the shed.

Thrilled by the idea, I think of walking around with penguins in my bathing suit, and continue to keep running, my distant thoughts never daring to disturb my rhythm.