"Shit." My voice cried out weakly. "What the fuck have you done?!"
"I have fed you for a week. That's what I've done." The retort was like a slap to the face.
"I can't. I won't. I'm not going back the the..." I couldn't allow the word to bounce off my tongue.
"Mortician. They are morticians, Wynter. And you are a wretched Quaid. You are no step above them."
But I was. The morticians were a race of undercover zombies. They paid Quaids like me to kill. To do the dirty work so they could lay low as they posed as real morticians who would prepare the bodies after death. The morticians would consume the internal organs of the deceased and fill the bodies with straw or sawdust, or sometimes let their bellies sink in with emptiness. Horrid beings. How anyone could ever defile the dead like that was beyond-
"For the love of god.. I've said it nicely once. And if you don't obey me, I'll have to use force. Pick up the fucking body. Take it to the fucking office. So we can get the fuck out of here. And perhaps we can go through the week peacefully."
I knew I had no choice. It was either do it of my own free will or lose control of my body for the second time today.. And I'd prefer the first option.
Sighing heavily, I snaked an arm under the man- more like a boy, about seventeen or eighteen, and proceeded to pick him up. His grey eyes were void of all life. At least, what was left of them. The left side of his face was sloped inward, leaving a cavern for a vast amount of blood, and as I picked him up, it spilled over his right side, bathing him in a considerable amount of the crimson elixir.
"Drink some."
"What?"
"Drink."
"Why would I-"
"It would help you with your energy levels, which at the moment is fleeting."
As I staggered with the stranger's full 190 pound frame on my much smaller one, I fell to my knees. It was right. Quaid had some borne vampiristic qualities- strength from blood consumption was one of those such qualities. Everyone knew that vampires weren't real though.. Creatures of reality were much darker, more cynical. I cupped my hand to the boy's face, and slid it up, collecting a small amount of blood in my palm. Putting my hand cup to my face, I drank it all, the musky liquid snaking down my throat with an iron finish. My face jerked into a snarl. That was so gross.
But it gave me the boost I so desperately needed. With that, I slung the boy over my shoulder with ease and carried on down the alley making my way to the funeral parlor conveniently located at the end of it.
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Author's Note-
I know that this update is WAYYY over due! But guess what? Bea is back bitches, and I'm hoping to be better than ever. After some MAJOR writers block and some reevaluation of the plot, I've decided to continue onward with this story. I love the plot line (which has barely even begun!) and I would hate to abandon it like this! Well, I can't promise super regular updates, but I'll have a lot more time on my hand now, so expect more story to be thrown your way at least weekly. Love you all bunches! Thank you to all of you that have stayed with me!
Xoxoxox-
Bea1113
Beautiful, Enchanting Annihilation 11-13
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Quietly Dying
Dla nastolatkówWynter was a normal child. But she can't survive as a freak much longer. In a world of Quaids, Faceless Men, and nightmares, how far would you go to die?
