Enticing Blood

*chapter twelve

Everything was painful.

Melanie's whole world was consumed in this pulsating pain that was wrapped around every limb she had.

She fought to wake up and open her eyes, but once she looked at the ceiling, the pain in her body became more apparent to where it wasn't pulsing, but throbbing. It felt like someone had been slamming her body with a sledgehammer for an hour straight, having no mercy. Her muscles all ached, her bones creaked and her joints felt rusty.

Melanie groaned and sat up, trying to fight against her body that had other ideas in mind. She woodenly pried off the bed comforter from her sweaty body and carefully swung her legs to the edge of her bed. Numbly, Melanie stood on her feet, but something whirled inside her head and made her eyes spin inside her skull, making her fall to her knees limply.

With nothing to try and break her fall, her knee caps slammed against the hardwood floor and her palm came down to help relieve the blow, and her other hand grabbed onto the bed to try and keep her from falling onto her face. Melanie groped her bed with clenched fingers and heaved, breathing heavily through her nose as she pushed herself back onto her feet and straightened out her knees.

She looked down to see two fresh bruises already forming on her kneecaps, both purple and yellow and contrasting her ghastly sick skin.

Melanie stumbled to her bathroom and swung open the door and she collapsed against the counter with flailing hands. She grimaced as she turned on the light, only to stare directly into the eyes of a ghost.

Melanie's once tan skin was as pale as snow and almost reflected the light. Her lips were lined and drier than the Sahara desert and she tried to lick them to add moisture, but they still looked like they belonged to a corpse. She was a corpse, with the sunken cheeks, dull eyes and colorless flesh. The only color she could make out was the dark circles that hung low beneath her eyes.

Melanie ran the tap and cupped her hands beneath the cold water, then she splashed it across her face. The splash was enough to shock her, but her head still swam through rippling waves and her body still ached.

What's happening to me? Melanie wondered as she looked at herself in horror.

There was a soft knock on Melanie's door and before she could say anything, the door opened and there stood a concerned Wylde who lacked his shirt with his hair slicked back and wet from a recent shower. When he saw her, his eyes widened and he stepped into the bathroom before she could say something, anything, to make him feel less concerned.

How could he not be concerned? Melanie looked like a walking zombie. The concern was written on his face with a black marker. It was so apparent, Melanie knew that it was hopeless to try and make him feel better.

I'm fine, really. Melanie wanted to say, but the words never came out. She was too weak to speak.

"What happened to you?" Wylde breathed, his voice a croak. He laced an arm under hers and grabbed her wrist gently and pulled her arm around his shoulder. He started to walk Melanie out of the bathroom, but her legs were failing beneath her, as if her puppeteer were having a tough time trying to keep her strings untangled. Sighing, Wylde placed his other arm under her knees and swept her up and effortlessly carried her bridal style.

Melanie didn't answer his question, because she didn't know what happened to her. She just let her head fall back and hang limply, not having enough strength to lift it. Melanie watched as her ceiling disappeared and the wooden ceiling of the hallway appeared and traveled above her. Her vision was beginning to strain and she found it hard to even focus on anything, so she let her eyes close.