Bloodlust

chapter twenty-two

-22-

 

The next day is boring, and I’m pretty sure James is sleeping in the other room. I spend most of the day staring at the ceiling wondering if James is even going to let me out. If he doesn’t, all my plans would be ruined. I’d be screwed. I need to escape. I will escape.

I think about the kiss. Well actually, the kisses; I don’t know why I enjoy it. Why do we need to feel lust? I guess because we have a bloodlust we have the intimate lust too. But if I’m capable of liking James, (which I hate to admit, but I did like him for a very brief period) and I’m capable of feeling lust, is it possible to love? I sincerely doubt it. Lust and liking someone just makes it easier to like what you’re doing. I guess I like it when James kisses me because of the passion. It’s my passionate loathing towards him, and whatever passion that he has. I can’t help but wonder about the attraction though. I won’t lie and say that part of me isn’t attracted to James. It’s a very small part, deep down, but it’s there.

My thoughts chase themselves in never ending circles, never finding a solution to any of the problems. It’s irritating that I’m stranded in here, left alone with nothing but my own mind to keep me company. I can only entertain myself in a shallow way before I sink down into deeper more involved thoughts instead of recalling stupid TV shows in my head and “watching” them.

James offers me blood almost as soon as he gets up the next evening and I reject it, as tempting as it is. I throw it at his face and the action is almost painful. Luckily the packet doesn’t break; otherwise I would break too and succumb to my instinct, which is growing feral despite my self-control. I know I don’t have much time before I break, but I don’t care. I won’t let James win.

“You can’t starve yourself like this,” he says to me from behind the door.

“Watch me,” I challenge him.

“I don’t want to see you do this to yourself, Anthony.” I can hear the pleading in his tone.

I laugh, almost hysterically. “You can’t see me doing this,” I tell him with a maniacal grin on my face. “There’s a door between us.”

“Fine,” James growls. “I don’t want you to do this.”

“Too bad,” I reply in a deadpanned tone. I hear James sigh and move away from the door.

He has to let me go sooner or later. I need to get out of here tonight, and I will do it. If I’m lucky I’ll be able to kill James by tomorrow night.

I spend the rest of the day plotting. James is going to offer me blood tonight, not expecting me to fight back. He has a weak side. It’s hidden under his psychotic shell, but it’s there. It’s a slightly compassionate side, as compassionate as he can get; but that will be his demise.

I am going to be so happy when I plunge that stake through his chest. I’m going to watch the very being that ruined me die; the being that singlehandedly dragged me down to rock bottom.

I know when it’s evening, I can feel it and the excitement is pulsating through me. I hear James approaching the door. Now is my time. He expects me to reject the blood. The door opens slowly and I grab the packet throwing it back as hard as I can. It slams against the wall. The impact is the only sound for a few tense moments, echoing in our heads. James looks surprised as I run towards the door of the apartment. He doesn’t bother following me. He just stays where he is.

“Go ahead and leave,” he says with a smirk. I don’t know why he’s smirking. I grin, actually having a reason to, laughing to myself at the thought that he’s smiling when he’s about to die. “Have fun,” he says smoothly, and I slam the apartment door behind me. I want to laugh out loud at how James is so clueless. He’s acting like he’s won here. But he hasn’t.