Lonely Monsters

twenty-four

There was no wonderful sunlight, or soft warm sheets that greeted the waking hours. There was a foreign perfume, and material that was not my own sheets scratching at my legs and arms. Nothing felt good or right. Sounds were coming in muffled or amplified to the point nothing was coherent. Whatever was happening was muted by the thunderstorm that my sense had translated them into. Fighting to figure out how to wake up, my hands touched cold... cold flooring. The rest of my body hung half off the bed, my head limp as my neck couldn't even lift it.

I tried to get words out, call for someone. There was that... blood in my fridge. If I drank some, everything would go back to normal. I tried to get something out. And it did. In the form of a viscous bubble came out my mouth, followed by a series of other... fluid. I fell from the bed, slamming into the floor and struggling to stand. My legs locked, both asleep below the knees.

"So you're awake." their voice came in like an air horn. "Now that you're awake--"

"blood. I..." My jaw kept locking and popping I bit my lips or cheek repeatedly. "My blood."

"Yeeaaaah." the person spoke, and the sound of their shoes clicking on hard wood grew louder. They stopped to kneel infront of me, their form unfocused in my vision. "We're gonna not do that. Hey-- Hey look at me when I'm... Shit..." They reached out, grabbing a fistful of hair, forcing me to look at them.

"I need to feed. Lemme go out." l reached out to grab onto them, beg. Everything was spinning and crashing, rolling of waves and that dreaded undertoe around my stomach and lungs.

"Sweetheart." the voice suddenly turned grating and my vision cleared a bit. "We're gonna go the high road, and it's gonna be basically hell." He tugged up my head by my hair, my neck straining with the weight. 

"What are you talking about." I garbled.

"We're gonna go through a detox." he said coyly, "Remember when you were turning, how agonizing painful and awful everything was? Well... We're gonna do that but a couple hundred times worse."

I tried to lash out at him, but a yank at my hair had the spots dancing. 

"Because we need you clean. And not full of that... Witch's Brew that is the equivalent of opium running through your veins." he smiled, showing off perfect teeth. "You'll thank me when you're clean." 

I was released and I fell, practically slamming my head in the wooden floor and the puddle of vomit. 

"When you're up to it... there's a wash room in this room. Behind that offwhite door." He wiped his hands on a towel, an left.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Detox.

So they wanted whatever i had been drinking, undr the instruction of Frigga,Ravis and the ever so Illuatrious Academy, flushed out of my system.