Coastside
Mackenzie threw her head back and stared blankly at the window’s upper sill. The phone slipped from her hand onto the couch, bounced, and landed on the carpet with a loud thud. She showed no intention of picking it up, still staring overhead. Were anyone witnessing this private moment, they’d notice her unblinking stare was unfocused.
Many seconds passed, the discomfort settling into her neck. She was too tall to be draped across the couch as she was. Straightening her head, the blood thief stared at the wall across her office. She folded her hands over her stomach, and remained as she was for nearly half an hour.
Beyond the closed door, Carven was on the phone.
Basking in the moment, Mackenzie allowed the thoughts to flow through her. She held onto nothing, content in her meditation. Eventually, she surfaced out of it. The elation she felt was purely mental, her body a collection of kinks. A massage would do wonders, though her only desire was blood.
Blood would heighten this feeling. It’d seep into her overworked body and loosen the knots. It’d add a spring to her step. A feeding would be well-timed, for it would cement this new reality of hers: a reality where she no longer hid what she was from those who cared about her.
The phone conversation she’d had thirty minutes ago had been easier to navigate than she’d presumed. Mackenzie had turned the curse of an incorruptible tongue into her weapon of choice. She’d told the truth without moulding it into something ambiguous. She’d spoken the truth without leaving room for assumption or denial.
Their confusion and frustration had been easier to deal with when she made of herself an unmovable force. It was easier to repeat herself when she didn’t have to worry about retracing the same steps, placing her foot exactly where she’d put it before to avoid her mouth. The pieces would fall wherever they fell. While she had no doubt this was only the beginning, it’d be far easier journey to undertake than any of those she’d pursued until now.
Humming decidedly, Mackenzie pushed herself off the couch.
She swept her phone off the ground and pocketed it, heading for the door.
Many seconds passed, the discomfort settling into her neck. She was too tall to be draped across the couch as she was. Straightening her head, the blood thief stared at the wall across her office. She folded her hands over her stomach, and remained as she was for nearly half an hour.
Beyond the closed door, Carven was on the phone.
Basking in the moment, Mackenzie allowed the thoughts to flow through her. She held onto nothing, content in her meditation. Eventually, she surfaced out of it. The elation she felt was purely mental, her body a collection of kinks. A massage would do wonders, though her only desire was blood.
Blood would heighten this feeling. It’d seep into her overworked body and loosen the knots. It’d add a spring to her step. A feeding would be well-timed, for it would cement this new reality of hers: a reality where she no longer hid what she was from those who cared about her.
The phone conversation she’d had thirty minutes ago had been easier to navigate than she’d presumed. Mackenzie had turned the curse of an incorruptible tongue into her weapon of choice. She’d told the truth without moulding it into something ambiguous. She’d spoken the truth without leaving room for assumption or denial.
Their confusion and frustration had been easier to deal with when she made of herself an unmovable force. It was easier to repeat herself when she didn’t have to worry about retracing the same steps, placing her foot exactly where she’d put it before to avoid her mouth. The pieces would fall wherever they fell. While she had no doubt this was only the beginning, it’d be far easier journey to undertake than any of those she’d pursued until now.
Humming decidedly, Mackenzie pushed herself off the couch.
She swept her phone off the ground and pocketed it, heading for the door.