Catharsis [Novel]

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

            "Did you hear what I said?  I think I have some eye drops that might help."

            She's moved back to her cabinets and the distance helps, but it doesn't stop it completely.  My left hand is damp, and lifting it I realize I've been salivating.  Drool is dribbling from the corners of my mouth and has splashed onto the back of my hand (Thank the holy heavens it's dark in here and she can't fully see me.).  It’s disgusting.

            "Are you ok back there?"  Her back is still to me as she moves small boxes and bottles in the cabinet.  "Cat?  Is something wrong?"

            I guess that answers my question about whether she remembered me from my previous visits.

            My brain wants to answer her, but my mouth is having trouble forming the words now that my appetite has found a focus.  My jaw moves, but no sound issues forth.  I slow my breathing for a moment and try again.

            "I don't know.  But please don't come back over here.  Stay there."  I can tell she isn't listening to me by her body language.  "Please," I manage to get out before she turns and steps towards me.

            I hear her heart pushing the blood through her body, whoosh-bump whoosh-bump whoosh-bump, and each pulse intensifies the desire to taste it.  Something deep in my gut tells me that the flow of it will make me better.  Healthier.  Stronger.  I need it more than I've ever needed anything before.  My brain focuses on her neck as she approaches me.  With fascination, I see that I can pick out the slightest rise in her throat as her carotid artery swells and releases with blood.  It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.  I'm attracted to it like a pre-teen girl to a British boy band.

            Standing up, I close the distance to Nurse Pritchett in a single step.  I can't deny myself the pull I'm feeling.  It's all I can think about.  It's everything right now.  I move to within inches of her before she can react.

            "What are you -” she begins.

            "stop," I say quietly cutting her off, and my voice is deeper and thicker than I've ever heard it before.  I need her to stop, and I can feel my need for that to happen in my own voice.  I don't want her to move, and I force that desire into every word.  "just stay there,"  I say, and she does.  This twenty-something year old nurse just stands in front of me motionless staring into my eyes.

            Either I don't know what to do next or I do know but my brain refuses to accept it, so I just stand in front of her breathing.  My brain is nothing but fog and clouds.  I'm moving on instinct.  I'm a starving person who has left the desert only to stumble onto the Pilgrim's first feast.  It's too much.  It's overwhelming. 

            As she stands in front of me not moving, it dawns on me what I'm wanting.  What is driving me towards her.  What is making me salivate enough to dampen the front of my sweatshirt.  I can smell it, and I'm scared. 

            It's her blood.  The drug that is compelling me forward is the blood of our school nurse.

            And the worst part?  I don't think I care.