Teeth

Chapter Four

The harder he scrubbed, the more ingrained the stains became. They seeped into his skin, delved into the cracks and crevices. The deeper they went, the less he wanted to get rid of them, which had only made him scrub his skin all the harder. Turning away from her constant watch over him, Thomas brought his legs up to his chest and rested his forehead on his knees.

The man had proved how easily he could take him down. Apart from the ache in his shoulder where he'd hit the floor, the blonde man hadn't even hurt him. Before Thomas had been able to throw a single punch, the man had swiped his foot around his ankle and Thomas was face down on the floor. Face down in the blood. It had all been too fast. He remembered moving, trying to throw the punch, and then it was over.

He wrapped his arms around his legs. It was too insane. The man was toying with him. Thomas idly wondered if there was a camera hidden in the room watching how long it would take for him to break and try to save himself. The woman wouldn't last much longer and he wondered if it only worked while she was alive.

No, it was ridiculous.

Thomas brought his hand up, resting his chin in the crook of his thumb. He nibbled on the side of his finger, swiping his tongue back and forth across the flesh. The man was obviously insane. Sadistic even. He was lying to him. The lack of food and water was making him delusional. He wasn't dying, he was dehydrated.

How long had it been since he'd had a proper drink? One of those great coffees from the café on the corner. Maybe Paige would put that half shot in it for him, the way he liked.

Thomas glanced over at the woman. She was different to Paige in every way. Where she was blonde, Paige had long dark hair, bronzed skin where this woman was pale. All the colour was draining away with the blood, leaving her in shades of grey.

She was still beautiful.

She gurgled again.

Thomas looked over his shoulder. Her eyes were wide, encouraging. Thomas paused. Then he looked down.

His hands were covered in the dark cold blood except for a small patch on the side of his index finger. A patch he had licked clean. Thomas swallowed the lump constricting his throat. He stared at the spot, willing himself to claw the blood from his tongue. Instead he swiped his thumb across the side of his finger, covering the patch with a brown smear.

"No."

"Kuh-ning."

Thomas crawled across the mattress toward her, peering closer. He'd long given up his attempts not to go through her blood. So little of the floor remained clean that it had become impossible to avoid.

"What?"

"Yawh kuh-ning."

He could smell the blood as it dribbled from the cuts in her skin. It smelled fresher than the rest. It smelled better.

His breath caught in his throat. The faster he tried to pull air in, the harder he spluttered and coughed. Digging his fingers into the side of the mattress, Thomas heaved. Blood swam in his vision. The pool on the floor was writhing before him and his head swam with it.

Vomit splattered across the floor. Ripples of blood swayed outward and converged on the mixture. Thomas instinctively brought his hand to his mouth and the moment his blood smeared hand touched his lips the taste of bile was gone, replaced with rust and raw steak. His stomach clenched in spasm, and Thomas rocked his shoulders, urging himself to get it over with. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to burp, to bring it up.

"Gwink."

He lifted his head. Looking back at him, the smallest of smiles alight in her eyes, she lifted a limp hand. She faltered, her arm drooping with the effort, but she offered again, reaching towards him as far as she could. Thomas took her hand.

"I..." He shook his head. "I don't believe in this. This is..."

She coughed and nodded.

"I don't want you to die."

He didn't even know why, apart from humanity. He didn't know her. He didn't even remember meeting her, not really. He could see her face, shining and warm, beautiful, but he couldn't remember what was said or even how they met. All he knew was that he wanted her around. He wanted her protected and him to be the one to do it. He wanted her to live. Thomas clasped her hand tighter. He needed her to live.

"Gwink."

She wiggled her fingers in his grasp, and he gazed at the smears his dirty hands had made against her greying skin. A thin, pure, drop of blood was carving a path over the browned stains, a maroon line, just visible on the inside of her wrist. Lifting her hand, he shuffled forward on his knees. Blood soaked through his jeans, clinging to his skin. The tip of his tongue caught the errant drop.

He couldn't pull his gaze from her face. His lips found the blood instinctively, taste it even before his tongue found each drop. She watched him, joy and longing in her eyes. Nodding with encouragement with each taste, she sighed in pleasure as his lips travelled further up her arm, honing in on the slight pulse at the crook of her elbow. He found one of the bleeding cuts there and sucked it dry. She liked that the best.

Her name was Cleo, he knew that now. With every taste, he could feel his lips curving around the name, the way just the tip of her tongue would touch her upper lip as she told it to him. The smile was there, in her eyes and her cheeks as she touched his arm and moved in closer to be heard over the thump of music in the dark club. She drank him in with a single word, and he could only hope to ever get that close.

Her skin was warm, much warmer than his fingers as they reached up and grasped her waist, holding her in place. His tongue travelled over her shoulder, her collarbone, the curve underneath her breast where the bra was too loose and hung from her chest. With each lick she became warmer. Each taste had her burning beneath him and her blood scorched a path into his stomach. His Cleo. She would be his. She would belong to him as passionately as he wanted to devote himself to her. No one else would ever get the chance to harm her, or to even get close to her. He was hers. He was drinking her in and she would never leave him. Her fiery skin branded his fingers as he got to his feet, eager to devour more of her. Her blood would throb around his body for the rest of his life, urging him on.

He bit down on her waist, breaking the skin and was rewarded with a new surge of her.

She whimpered, and the pulse of blood abated to a lazy dribble.

Thomas blinked, stepping back. Wiping off his mouth with the side of his hand, he stumbled back across the mattress and leaned against the wall. Everything was blurry. He watched the world from beneath a lake that was slowly being drained. It dripped away. The colour and the sharp lines melted into a blur, taking him with it, leaving him hungrier than he'd ever felt in his life. His stomach growled loudly and twisted in pain. He needed something, something warm and filling to sate the hunger boiling inside him.

He closed his eyes. He was remembering, or maybe forgetting. An elastic band was snapping into place, like a drunken high leaving his system.

The man had left after knocking him down, he remembered that much. Perhaps he'd bitten his tongue when he hit the floor. Yes, that made sense. Biting his tongue was why he could taste blood inside his mouth.

Opening his eyes again, he looked over at the woman. She stared, unseeing. Her eyes were finally as dead as the rest of her. The last of the colour had left her, leaving her grey, diluted almost. Only the remnants of beauty still clung to her. A faded photograph of the woman she might once had been. Thomas turned away and perched on the clean edge of the mattress. She was just another victim, like he would be when the man returned.

To think: he didn't even know her name.

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Chele