WitchBite

Born Anew

 The walls were plain, and dull. To keep my new senses from over stimulation. The cups of tea were brought in reinforced cups of unmarked steel, to keep my strength from crushing anything else. I had become quite acquainted with this room of mine, and now it felt like a prison cell. Or a room in an asylum. Even when Elizabeth entered my room once wearing red upon her lips. It stuck out the most vibrant hue that I'd ever laid eyes upon. It flowered upon her lips like the finest conception of red that ever existed, the brilliance of the idea of a rose could not hold a flame to it.

It was in that moment of fixation, hypnotised by this, one, meagre, example of brilliant colour, that I knew I was not ready to go outside. As much as it pulled against my very fibre to go outside. To finally be so close to my beloved forest, my home. I couldn't. It wasn't safe.

But even the potential of madness seemed preferable to this scratching, mind numbing boredom.

"You need to feed." Bethany's voice rang painfully loud in my ears, calling me from my thoughts to the cup that still sat warmly in my grip. I'd been swirling it absentmindedly. It's scent was intoxicating, and I'd be lying if it didn't cause me to unnervingly salivate at the crimson liquid. It called me to the darkness of it's depths, like a primordial siren song beckoning my heart to its ruinous shore.

"Don't call it that." I meekly replied, doing my best to tear my gaze from the cup. Bethany gave an exasperated sigh in response.

"Listen, buttercup." She began striding forward, closer to the edge of the bed until she loomed somewhat over me, like a disapproving parent. "Elizabeth? Simon? They have patience, and sympathy for you. Qualities that, in this particular situation, I have neither of. There are three things that are going to happen if you don't drink. First, there is a very real chance that you will starve to death. Normal food is no longer an option for you. Suck it up. Two, there is an even realer chance that I am going to force feed you, and as hot as food play sounds; I abhor it when its a chore. This sounds like a chore. And thirdly, if you don't feed. You're going to go in to a Sanguine coma. A Sanguine coma is different from the standard coma's you'd expect to find in your cookie cutter, human hospitals. In short, your conscious thought will shut down, and you'll go feral. Literally hunting down the nearest thing with a pulse, and ripping it to shreds. Guess what the nearest living thing is? Those living in your house. So buck up, put your big boy pants on, and drink."

As much as I glared at her, her words did cause me to sink somewhat further into the bed, and it wasn't solely because she seemed to be talking so loud. Although it didn't help. I eyed the cup once again, looking to Bethany, then the cup, then Bethany again.

"Please, Avery." She said, her words echoing a solemn vulnerability that made me question as to whether I heard it crack or not. "I cannot allow you to go. Not like that."

My lips quivered on the cup, still frighteningly inviting and warm. The scent stronger now that it was closer to my nose, I could practically see it curling a mischievous finger in my direction. As I drew on whatever reserves of strength I could allow, bolstering myself. I drank.

It was one of the strangest sensations I have ever encountered. It dragged me forward, as if to pull me into the cup and swallow me whole, begging me to drown within the depths of it's rubied bottom. I guzzled and drank, hungry. Every drop spiked ecstasy, as it unfurled its fingers when it reached my stomach. Blossoming outwards with a warmth that wrapped its arms around my spine and planted flowers. It reached upwards, caressing my shoulders like the unfurling of wings. I was awash on midsummer shorelines, tentatively swaddled by the radiant swathes of an evening sun, lulling me into relaxed shudders of euphoric starscapes beknighted with crescent moons. It was good.

I found my tongue, lapping at my top lip and it was only the child-like giggle of Bethany that my trance was broken, and I found myself once more. Guilt and shame plucked it's sorrowful tune within my heart, especially when a new feeling also settled itself there. The want for more.