Blood Lust

one

Every day feels the same. The sun leaks through your blinds, waking you up. You pull yourself out of bed, tame the tangles in your hair and pull on your black jeans and a hoodie. After brushing your teeth, you feed your cat and head out to work. You get home at around 10pm, feed your cat again, and cook yourself a microwave meal. You watch Doctor Who then go to sleep. The next morning, the routine starts again. Every day feels the same. It is draining and dull. There is nothing you wouldn't give for some excitement.

The sun leaks through your blinds, waking you up. You pull yourself out of bed, stare blankly at your reflection in the mirror; you've never liked your appearance. You tame the tangles in your hair and pull on your black jeans and a hoodie; today it's a deep purple one. After brushing your teeth, you feed Artemis, your little black cat. You get in your Ford Fiesta and head out to work.

You are a bar-tender at The Grapevine pub. It's not so bad, but you simply can't stand people, especially drunk people. Your day goes painfully slowly, you watch as the clock ticks on and you help more people get shit-faced. When you first started the job, you felt bad serving drinks to people who were already, visibly, too drunk. Now, you couldn't care less, it's actually quite funny, watching as adults act like teenagers again.

It's getting late and nearing the end of your shift when a well-dressed man enters the pub. He is in a dark purple suit, similar to the colour of your hoodie, and a black shirt with polished black shoes. It's safe to say he looks out of place. He walks toward a particular table at the back of the pub, where a couple are already sitting. You watch, captivated, as he says a single word to the couple and they get up and leave half way through their dinner. He takes their place at the table and scans the other customers there, before catching you staring. You immediately look away, so very embarrassed, and occupy yourself by wiping down your worktop. His eyes were so dark.

Sam, one of your colleagues, approaches you. He says, "Take a glass of our finest red wine to the man in the purple suit," before walking off without saying another word. It was a very strange interaction, Sam is normally so friendly with his words, not cold and distant. It was like he wasn't himself. Although unnerved, you do as you are told.

You hesitantly walk over to the man, the wine glass trembling in your hand. He is looking down at his hands, almost like he is examining the intricacy of his veins. When you are close enough, you put the glass on the table, but as you let go, you catch the glass on your sleeve and it tips over, covering the table, floor, and the man. He jumps up, looking at the dark stain on his suit. You are expecting a scene, you are expecting a telling off, you are terrified, but instead the man slowly lifts his head and looks at you with fire in his eyes. He smirks: "You will come with me."