Bloodbank

One

Thud.

"Remember, aim for the neck," The man next to me, Mason, raised his kitchen knife, his hazelnut eyes fixated on the door. I could barely see him in the dim light, but as always, I knew he was there. My grip tightened on my own short blade.

Thud.

The door bulged, the lock barely containing the inhuman force pushing it. While I knew they couldn't smell fear, they could certainly smell the blood pulsating through my veins.

"Ebony, I love you," Mason squeezed my hand, aware that this might be our death. After two years holed up in the bunker like rats, I always knew the day would come that they would find us.

Thud.

The girl behind me, half my age, let out a small squeak, her blonde curls quivering like a leaf.

The door gave in, swinging open, sunset's dim, orange light cascading down into the cellar, blinding me instantly after years in the dark. Blinking away the painful afterimage, my senses were bombarded by three people - no, monsters - storming through the door. Mason jabbed his kitchen knife forward, stabbing it into an attacker's arm, and I followed suit, blindly swinging my small penknife around, desperate to protect myself.

There were ten in the bunker. Ten people. One I cared about.

A woman's screams made me whirl around, feet reaching a thick liquid. Blood.

"Run!" The woman screamed, a man throwing her body across the room like a rag doll. My first instincts were to protect her but Mason shoved me towards the door. Nodding, I scrambled through the blood coated floor, my feet slipping in the puddles, towards the empty doorway.

My desperate hand had just reached the door frame when a man stepped in front of me, effortlessly blocking my path. I stabbed my blade towards him but he grabbed my hand, sending my knife skating along the floor.

As he stepped out of the shadows, I began to see his perfect features; a chiselled jawline, full lips and skin as pale as snow. His pointed nose gave me the image of a Greek god, but his harsh emerald eyes stared down at me, condescending, full of hatred. I frowned, wondering why such an angelic man would hate me so much, when he pushed me against the wall, next to my ten other roommates.

Nine, I corrected, as I noticed a young man lying, face first, in a bloody puddle.

"Test them, Nathan," a woman said, her voice cold and uncaring. A young man, looking to be in his twenties but probably much older, stepped forwards, a syringe in his hand. He didn't hold the same beauty as the other man, but the kind softness in his face made him seem approachable and friendly, unlike any of the other five attackers in the room. I assumed he was Nathan.

Nathan knelt beside the little girl, the first in the line, smiling reassuringly at her as he drew a small amount of crimson liquid from her arm using the syringe, the angelic man from before holding her down. My eyes widened as I realised what was happening, but I was too paralysed with fear to stop it.

Placing a small drop of the blood on his tongue, Nathan frowned as he tasted it, as if he were criticising a meal.

"Blood type A, Vitamin D deficiency, Low Iron,"

The angelic man placed his hands on the girl's head, jerking her neck to the side slightly. She fell to the floor, dead.

"No!" I gasped, my legs feeling like jelly as I pushed myself away from the wall and towards the dead girl. The pale woman pushed me down immediately, my eyes still wide with shock.

"Wait your turn," The woman growled.

As they went through the line, my pulse was erratic. I knew I couldn't escape; there were too many of them, and as the pile of bodies grew, my time drew nearer.

"Type B, needs Vitamin D and Iron."

Dead, dead, dead.

Then they reached me, the penultimate survivor, with only Mason remaining beside me. Tears dripped down my face, shock overwhelming me from the massacre I was witnessing.

"Hold her down, Scott," the woman said, and the angelic man, who had killed them all, held me in place, his arms like a cage. I flinched away from his cold touch, not wanting to be anywhere near the monster.

Nathan winced as he inserted the needle into my arm, pulling out a sample of blood. I tried not to look at the pile of eight corpses behind him as he tasted my blood, his lips parting slightly. I frowned, confused; he hasn't taken this long with anyone else. Was something wrong?

"O Negative," he muttered in disbelief.

"We have a winner," The woman's gorgeous face split into a smile, an overwhelming sense of dread spreading through my body.

I should've joined those corpses.