Butterflies [On Hold]

Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE:

Marie just couldn’t sleep, even though she felt exhausted. Sighing, she sat up on her bed and checked what time it was. Two o’clock in the morning. Ugh … She put her slippers on, grabbed a cardigan out of her wardrobe and threw it on. Usually when she couldn’t sleep she’d go downstairs and drink a glass of milk … and she actually was thirsty, for the first time in a long time. Marie silently crept down the two flights of stairs and shuffled drowsily into the kitchen.

But as soon as she drank a tiny mouthful of the milk, she felt like poison was pouring down her throat. It was excruciating. Marie instantly burst into a fit of coughs, and the glass of milk shattered down onto the floor. She grasped the counter, trying to stop herself from collapsing, but the pain was too much. It felt as though all her organs were decaying. She was in the worst agony imaginable, but she just couldn’t understand why. What was wrong with her?

‘Oh my God, Marie, are you okay?’ said someone behind her. It sounded like Lawrence. ‘Are you choking?’

She shook her head, hoping that he didn’t try to do the Heimlich manoeuvre on her. ‘Drink …’ she croaked, trying her best to explain. ‘I … tried to … drink …’

‘This is what happened in Paris, right?’ She heard him fumble around nearby, and soon he handed her a slice of bread. ‘Try and eat something … It might stop the pain …’

Doubtful, Marie took a bite, quickly chewed and swallowed. It seemed to have cleared a tiny bit of the stinging, so she took another bite. When she finished the slice, the burning sensation had finally died down. She looked up at him with watery eyes, and breathed a long sigh of relief. Lawrence stared at her, his blue eyes wide with shock.

‘Is there something wrong?’ she asked him, looking over her shoulder to see if there was something behind her. She wouldn’t be too surprised in an ancient house like this. ‘What’s the matter?’

Lawrence’s expression hardened. ‘I think you should go back up to bed.’

Marie was a little intimidated by his tone, but she didn’t budge. She was certainly not going to let him boss her around. ‘I’m not tired ... Why are you up so late, anyway? I thought you were in bed, too?’

‘I can’t sleep either.’

‘How did you even get down here? I didn’t even see you, or hear you … Where you already down here?’

‘Marie, you should really go upstairs.’

‘Why?’

‘Because … I need to do something. Just go upstairs and try to go back to sleep.’

‘I’m not stopping you from doing anything. All I want to do is watch television for a while … and then when I’m sleepy enough, I’ll go back to bed. It’s really not like I’m going to be in your – What on earth is that smell?’ she said suddenly, her eyes darting to Lawrence’s hand.

He had cut his finger with a knife, and blood was slowly seeping out of the little incision. It smelled amazing. Marie gasped in horror as she felt her incisors lengthen. She ran out of the kitchen, far away from Lawrence, and took deep, panicked breaths. Her mouth was watering from the scent of his blood. She wanted it so much. Something horribly wrong was happening to her, something terrible. She couldn’t stop crying. She couldn’t handle it. She was scared to death.

~*~

‘I’m not going with you,’ Alan insisted, tuning his guitar. ‘Seriously, I think getting to know the four strangers we’re living with is enough for now. I don’t need the hassle of three more strangers.’