You're Just Not My Type

You're Just Not My Type (Chapter 22)

22.

Thomas dropped to his knees, he stared down at Bobbie's lap where his precious angel now laid. Her skin was pale and ashen, her lips that were once a vibrant pink were now lifeless and nearly blue. He listened and couldn't even make out the faintest thump from her heart. She was dead.

"I'm so sorry. I tried." Bobbie cried over and over as she rocked the lifeless body back and forth.

"You tried what? Why didn't you just change her?" Thomas screeched as he ripped Anne's body from Bobbie's grasp. Her once warm skin was now taking on a cool touch, he remember how being even remotely close to her would cause her cheeks to grow rosy with blush.

"I did." Bobbie said quietly as she swiped away a stray tear. "I tried." Saying it once again she held out her wrist showing him the scab that had now formed on her own wrist where she had obviously slit her wrist to feed Anne.

"And it didn't work?"

"No."

"I don't believe you, maybe she just needs more blood, she was almost dead when you got to her. She may still be in transition." Thomas said with a renewed vigor. He laid Anne down gingerly on couch taking the position over her. Quickly he brought his wrist to his mouth crunching down on it enough to break the skin and the blood to flow fourth easily. Bringing his wrist to her mouth, Bobbie helped hold her mouth open so the blood could easily flow down her throat.

They watched with bated breath for her to move, breath, to do anything to give them a sign that it worked. After nearly five minutes a twitch. A single twitch. That was all Thomas needed to jump for joy.

"She needs blood go catch something now, bring it back. She needs to feed now!" He huffed out nearly throwing Bobbie out the broken down door. Once she was gone he knelt on the floor beside the couch and began talking to Anne. "It's okay, Annie. I'm here. Bobbie will be back with something to drink. Just hang on for me, please! I love you, I can't lose you now!" He chanted to her over and over again as he held her hand in his tightly.

Moments later Bobbie bounded back through the door with a rather large buck that she was easily restraining with rope that she had found outside. "Will this do?"

"Let's hope it does. It won't taste the same but blood is blood right?"

"I certainly think so." Bobbie shrugged as she retrieved a bucket and a large knife from the kitchen. With out any concern for the large beast she slit it's throat and caught the blood in the bowl waiting til it almost stopped to hand it over to Thomas.

"Bottoms up, Annie." Thomas cooed as he and Bobbie assisted her in to a half sitting up position and bringing the bowl to her lips. At first she didn't respond to the blood that was pouring down her throat but before long she was gulping and slurping at the bowl, nearly clawing her way to her to get more and more. As soon as the last drop hit her tongue her eyes popped open and looked at Bobbie and Thomas carefully, methodically. Now came the real fun.

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Anne could hear the crashing and smashing, the hateful words and the house shaking and quaking around them. She hear when Thomas hurdled through the window, and would of smiled if it wouldn't of taken so much energy. But before Thomas could stop him Francis had bit her or cut her some how because she could feel the warm wet feeling of her blood escaping from her body once again.

But next she felt the familiar touch of Bobbie, she was being lifted and moved but then the world around her grew black and she felt as if she was floating. There was no more screaming or fighting. No light and none of the fear that came along with being dead. In fact she welcomed it. But somewhere in the background she could hear that trusty thump that she so often took for granted. The one noise that always followed her around, that was there to lull her to sleep at night or to let her know she was still alive. Her heart. It was still beating. So she wasn't dead yet, but she was close. It was pumping at half the vigor it usually had, its movements and sounds were becoming more and more deliberate.