The Donor Handbook

Problem Shooting

Problem Shooting with the Undead: How to Make Your Points and Influence Your Boss In  A Good Way

I opened my eyes again lying on my bed. I felt strange, really strange, as I laid there staring up at the ceiling. I could feel every sinew of my body working and turning. Colors and smells felt more intense, like I was now visualizing and sensing my world in HD. Roger was in the living room waiting for me. He was nervous and somewhat scared. I felt a bizarre urge to go to him. I wanted to see him. It was like I wasn’t whole unless I did so.

I sat up. Hyper-aware of how my body worked towards such an action. The muscles contracted and released as I found myself gliding down the hallway towards my eager destination. I knew that he felt me, I knew that he hungered for me. I wanted to feed that hunger. I needed to.  I shook my head trying to clear away the thoughts that pounded around in my brain. Why was I feeling like this? It was plain old Roger. I couldn’t let him fill me like this. I needed to fight him or I would completely lost. With the feeling of needing him rising, an equal feeling of unease wrestled in my brain.  It took everything I had to stop in that hallway. I shouldn’t feel this way. It was like being drugged.  I had to fight this.

 I breathed in and out trying to clear the fog in my head. The feelings didn’t fade. I leaned against the wall battling with myself, desperately trying to turn around and go back to my bedroom. I could hear my breathing as it intensified with my rising anxiety. I grasped at invisible support against the smooth walls of my condo desperate for some kind of grounding in reality.  I could beat this, he wouldn’t rule me.  As I slowed my breathing and tried to get a handle on my own mind, a pair of shoes appeared in my line of vision that was directed to the floor. I followed those shoes up to Sterling’s face as he mirrored my lean against the wall, casually throwing an arm against it like he was trying to pick me up.

“Don’t fight it Amy.” He said evenly. “It only hurts more if you do.”

I looked at him, and the look on his face made me realize that my own look must’ve been a desperate look. His hard face had slowly melted into a more sympathetic expression. His hand came to my shoulder rubbing it in a reassuring motion. “Amy, don’t make you and Roger suffer. Give into it. Go to him. Feed him, I know that you want to.”

I closed my eyes when Sterling said, feed him. A small shiver of pleasure skipped up my spine at the thought of him feeding from me. At the same time my stomach turned. It was like I was separated into two people. One who desperately wanted to be with Roger, and the other who wanted no more than to run as far away as I could get. I slid down the wall, curling upon myself, fighting the things that whispered and pulled at me.  I hugged my knees, hoping that such an action would calm my churning stomach.

A hand came to my hair, petting and soothing me as I started to cry. “Calm down Pidge. Damn, you fight so much. Aren’t you tired of fighting? It’s going to be alright. We’ll take care of you. You just need to let go.” Sterling paused for a moment as his hand slid down from the top of my head to the side of my face and stopped at my chin using his finger tips to tilt my head up. I didn’t fight his gentle prodding, instead I chose to look at him. He began to wipe my face clean of tears with his thumbs, and like an obedient child I let him. I watched him as he smoothed out my hair and looked me over. He seemed so sincere in his concern and I needed sincerity. He signaled for me to stand and I  took his hand to help me to my feet. I didn’t want to fight anymore. I was so fucking tired.

It was time to let go, and I had to. For my own sanity, I had to. 

Sterling led me further down the hallway, with me walking on shaky legs. With each step I felt my resolve slip. My grip increased on Sterling until he laughed and reminded me that just because he was dead didn’t mean that he couldn’t feel pain. When we finally got to the living room every bit of control that I was holding onto left me the moment I saw Roger. I released Sterling’s hand and made a mad dash towards Roger.  I didn’t have to go far because in a split second he grabbed a hold of me, spun me around, tilted my head to the side and bit down.  His arms encircled me, hugging me into his chest, as another hand cupped my face. I barely registered how he held me because my mind was filled with unfamiliar emotions and Roger.