Ageless War

Eighteen || Practice Makes Perfect

Adaline Mavis

Unknown

Friday, January 31st, 1944

3:00 am

I didn't sleep.

I had laid in under the covers, feeling the rough waters crash against the boat as I tried to force myself to sleep, attempting everything except suffocation. It wasn't long before I became fed up with the ruse of sleep and left the minor comfort the cot provided, trading it in for whipping winds and frostbitten air.

Of course— that wasn't the only reason. I couldn't stand the sound of their blood, the way it thumped against their skin in a never-ending rhythm that lulled the darkest of urges out of somewhere cold inside me.

I was like an addict itching for another fix, finding every excuse in the book for my desperate actions.

I am just hungry.

We don't have the blood bags anymore.

How else will I survive?

Or, my personal favorite: I can't stop myself.

Even as I stood at the edge of the boat and stared into the murky black water below, I could smell them. Their breath, their sweat, and their blood. It hung in the air like a pest, and the salty wind couldn't stop me from sucking deep gulps of it into my lungs.

My mouth watered and my fangs began to show themselves, my eyes no doubt as black as the water underneath me. I couldn't go back inside like this, no matter my intentions.

I had never had to force away the hunger like this before; we had always eaten within the comfort of our own home. Still, I was determined, and I had an idea of how to hide my monstrous features. I hoped it was the smell, the airy promise of a delicious meal, that was triggering these changes.

I held my breath until my lungs screamed for air and my chest was teeming with what felt like bubbling acid. Even through the pain, I knew on some level it was working. Before the hunger took me over again, I turned on my heel and walked back down the stairs to where the blood bags slept soundly. The closest one to me was a man I didn't know; he curled himself up into a ball and shivered in his sleep under the thin blankets that covered him.

As I stared at him, my skin began to hum with warmth and soon his heart beat seemed to pulse through the air around him. I reached out to touch him, my hand deathly still as it touched his skin.

His eyes fluttered before opening in a confused squint. It took only a moment before he tensed up and moved away.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

I hadn't been focused on keeping the delicious smell out, and with a sudden and irresistible urge to breath, I inhaled deeply.

"W-what the hell..." His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to scream, but I leveled my face with his in less than an instance.

"Don't speak."

I watched him with curious excitement as he tried to open his mouth and make the words come out. His tongue moved dumbly as it tried to remember how to help. But, of course, it lasted only a few moments before he croaked out, "Get away from me..."

I clenched my jaw, my teeth grinding in frustration.

I didn't think it would be this hard to compel someone.

"I said don't speak." Once again, my nerves twitched as I waited to see how long my hold over him would last. Unfortunately, the man in the bed just right of us began to shift and mumble, forcing my hand.