The Man with the Vampire Smile

--Dane

Dane was thrown into his room, gasping for breath. His eyes were drooping. He hated this place. Hated it. He’d rather be dead.

He tried to drag himself to his small mattress but he couldn’t manage after he’d gone a few feet. He’d just have to sleep on the ground. He curled up into a ball, shivering in the cold. It was always cold. The only time he was ever warm was when they took his blood. That room was warm.

Before his eyes closed, he thought about the girl. He knew that that was probably the last time he would ever see her. The prisoners ate alone in their cell. They went to the bathroom in their cell. They weren’t allowed outside. They weren’t allowed anywhere.

They lived their life in isolation.

He’d grown used to it.

Dane woke hours later. He stretched his fingers and yawned. He slowly sat up. He waited for his strength to return, like it usually did. But this time it didn’t. He cursed the man. He’d taken too much blood this time. That man just wanted to frighten the new girl, Mary. That’s why the man had chosen to draw their blood at the same time.

Dane fixated his eyes a few feet away. He saw food. He slung out his arm, his hand grasped something warm. He brought it to his mouth and took a bite.

Was that meat?

Dane took another bite. It was meat! It tasted like chicken. Dane sank his teeth into the meat and tore it. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d had meat. They ordinarily just brought him noodle soup. He gripped the cup and sluggishly brought it to his lips. He’d been anticipating water. But it wasn’t water. It was grape juice.

He could almost feel the strength returning to his body.

About half an hour later, when he felt almost regular, the door to this cell started to creak open. He threw himself to the far back corner of the cell. He knew when someone came in your cell it wasn’t good. But they couldn’t take more blood. Not today. Not now. He couldn’t handle it.

The door slowly opened and a young woman entered. Dane eyes grew wider. He hugged himself around his mid-section. He still didn’t have a shirt. He wished they would give him more clothes.

The woman looked frustrated, as these people often did. Dane didn’t recognize her. She must be new. The man would often take people who couldn’t get jobs at hospitals and bring them here. They usually weren’t allowed to leave.

“What-what do you want?” Dane inquired. He knew he wouldn’t be able to protect himself if this lady decided to hit him.

But no. If they wanted to hurt him, they would have sent in one of the men.

“I sent the wrong tray. This was supposed to go to the donor next door. You get the soup.”

“Donors? That’s what you call us? Not prisoners? Things? Because that’s how you treat us.”

The woman observed at Dane, her face gave away nothing.

“Who gets that food?” Dane asked. It was the finest thing he’d tasted in months. It had also replenished his energy in almost half of the time. He would kill to have food like that every day.

“I don’t know.”

“How do you not know?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “You guys are labeled by numbers.”

“Really? What number am I?”

“Twenty.”

“So there are at least twenty of us here?” Dane asked, sitting up slightly. He loved finding out little things like this. It gave him a sense of power.