Pleasure Me, My Catharsis

Twelfth

I don’t know what the fuck happened last dawn but I’m not that willing to find out. 

She just snapped and I am not really sure why she was so concerned when she found out that I was starving myself. She said that she’s done it before and I have no idea what pushed her to that point. I know that Angelo’s death got me here. 

The thought of drinking blood sickened me. 

A very rare occurrence for me.

Killing never unnerved me. 

But now, I don’t know what’s going on in my head anymore. 

A knock on my door roused me from my foolish thoughts. Rising from my bed, and it’s a very comfortable bed, I strode to the door while pulling on a random shirt. 

I didn't expect to see Anya on the other side of the door. When her eyes scrutinized me, they glowed a faint blue. 

“You didn’t feed.” She deadpanned. She never gave me the chance to give a snarky retort before she had me pinned against the wall opposite to the doorway. I just heard the door seal itself as my eyes wee focused on the woman in front of me. 

“Why are you doing this to yourself?” She asked as her hands skimmed my shoulders, leaving a trail of thin yet strong ice in their wake. I realized then that her forehead barely reached my chin, a sign that she wasn’t wearing heels. 

She’s a tiny thing, honestly. 

When I felt the cold seep into my skin, my blue eyes met her green ones in alarm. I could feel my own eyes glowing, a natural reflex, due to her actions.

“Do you not remember what I said two nights ago?” She murmured so low I barely heard her. She seemed to be deep in thought, not realizing that she had stuck me to the wall by my shoulders. 

“Anya, what are you doing?” I breathed out, involuntarily letting out a low gasp when her cold fingertips touched my exposed neck.

I’m beginning to regret not changing out of my lounge clothes. 

A thin, wide necked, long sleeved gray shirt and black loose pants that were low on my hips. 

And Anya seemed to be in the same state of dress as I was again. 

She was only in a loose, pale green, long sleeved shirt that was falling off her left shoulder and she had on a pair of oversized white lounge pants. 

How I found out they were oversized?

They were practically pooling at the soles of her feet.

“Are you afraid of me?” She whispered. My eyes traveled down her form again. She raised a hand to cup my face, her hand no longer as cold as a few moments ago.