Mackenzie rose from the dusty chesterfield with a monstrous yawn, arms stretching overhead. Hollow cracks reverberated throughout her stiff body as she tested every joint. She glanced about the darkened room and recognised it as an unfamiliar liar. If she’d been allowed to dose off, then surely there was no use hurrying her departure. Without her host in sight, the brunette took the liberty to seek out the washroom. There, she splashed cold water onto her face. Sliding her thumb across dried blood on her chin, she stared long and hard at her reflection.
The person staring back at her was recognisable, like someone she used to know but hadn’t remembered the features of in detail. Her complexion was no longer sallow, though she remained pale as ever. Dark circles under her eyes were accentuated by the darkness she stood in. The cancer wasn’t beat — vampire blood merely a stalling tactic. Eventually she’d have to make a decision. What would blood tests reveal? With the news of vampire kind living amongst humans, there was a chance her stopgap tactic could bring unwanted attention. Would a transplant heal her? Or would it simply delay metastasis? What about vampirism? Being turned was as preposterous a solution as having parts of herself cut open and replaced. Time would tell, and as long as she found willing donors, she was no longer pressed for time. Unspoken frustration simmered beneath the calm exterior.
Remembering herself, Mackenzie turned the faucet off. The sound of running water did not cease. Furrowing her brow, she neared the window and peered past the heavy curtains, only to find the opening sealed shut by a wooden plank. There were no cracks and therefore nothing to see, but she distinguished the sound as raindrops beating against the makeshift shutter. If she reached out further with her heightened senses, she could decipher the multilayered drumbeat outside. The pavement, parked cars, treetops... the rain sounded distinctively different on each surface. It had been months since she’d started feeding, but the fascination had yet to wear off.
The blood thief was so focused on what lay beyond the dampened wood that she was startled by the presence at the periphery of her senses. How long had she been standing there, holding the curtain back and staring at nothing? To mask her surprise, Mackenzie spoke before even turning around to face her host, the taste of their blood growing stale on her tongue.
“What’s the time?”
The person staring back at her was recognisable, like someone she used to know but hadn’t remembered the features of in detail. Her complexion was no longer sallow, though she remained pale as ever. Dark circles under her eyes were accentuated by the darkness she stood in. The cancer wasn’t beat — vampire blood merely a stalling tactic. Eventually she’d have to make a decision. What would blood tests reveal? With the news of vampire kind living amongst humans, there was a chance her stopgap tactic could bring unwanted attention. Would a transplant heal her? Or would it simply delay metastasis? What about vampirism? Being turned was as preposterous a solution as having parts of herself cut open and replaced. Time would tell, and as long as she found willing donors, she was no longer pressed for time. Unspoken frustration simmered beneath the calm exterior.
Remembering herself, Mackenzie turned the faucet off. The sound of running water did not cease. Furrowing her brow, she neared the window and peered past the heavy curtains, only to find the opening sealed shut by a wooden plank. There were no cracks and therefore nothing to see, but she distinguished the sound as raindrops beating against the makeshift shutter. If she reached out further with her heightened senses, she could decipher the multilayered drumbeat outside. The pavement, parked cars, treetops... the rain sounded distinctively different on each surface. It had been months since she’d started feeding, but the fascination had yet to wear off.
The blood thief was so focused on what lay beyond the dampened wood that she was startled by the presence at the periphery of her senses. How long had she been standing there, holding the curtain back and staring at nothing? To mask her surprise, Mackenzie spoke before even turning around to face her host, the taste of their blood growing stale on her tongue.
“What’s the time?”
[ Appearance ]
