So, Chuck Wendig is having this little contest. 1000 Words. Subject? Death. So here is my entry:
(yes, its a little...um...graphic so I apologize in advance to anyone I might offend *cough* family members *cough*, but it's what popped into my head)
I never thought I
would be a card carrying member of the 27 Club. Twenty-seven is a crappy age to
die, especially in such a humiliating way. I should have known Alex wouldn’t be
able to keep his shit together.
I thought we were
being smart. We’d talked about taking our relationship to the next step for months.
It wasn’t like the sex part was new to us. We’d been playing at friends with
benefits for over a year. But Alex kept talking how much better it would be if
I just trusted him enough to try it. Everybody I asked said it would be okay as
long as we were careful. We’d even created a safe word. “Day-Oh.” It was a joke
between us. When we were ready to call it a night, we would sing that stupid song.
You know the one: “Day-Oh. Day-Oh. Daylight come and me want to go home.” It
really meant, “I’m done. Get the fuck out.”
Day-Oh seemed like
such a perfect word for “stop”.
Fat lot of good it
was doing me now.
Alex had me pinned
to the bed, his big body over me, my wrists clamped in his large hands to hold
me down, not that I was fighting him. His body moved in mine in a rhythm that I
was familiar with but had long since stopped enjoying tonight. I didn’t dare
move at all for fear it would push him further over the edge, but I was
dangerously close to losing consciousness. Considering how much he was enjoying
my submission, fear would probably send him right over the top.
“Day-oh, Alex. Oh
fuck, come on. Day-oh.” I couldn’t believe how warbly and weak my voice was,
not that it would help. His mouth didn’t budge. His fangs were sunk as deep as
he could get them into my throat. The rumbling noises coming from him sounded
like a cat purring, only bigger and more psychotic. This was not the fun
loving, party animal Alex who sang Jimmy Buffet when he’d had too many jello shots.
I didn’t know this
Alex. This Alex was fucking predator.
If I survived this
Jacinda was going to kill me. She’d warned me that some vampires lost
themselves in the bloodlust of sex mixed with feeding. She’d begged me not to
do it. But Alex had insisted that losing control almost never happened, and
that it had never happened to him. I believed him.
Who would have
thought Jacinda would be right?
I could feel how
hard my heart was working, erratic, the blood flowing in my collapsing veins weak
and thready. The sparkly little stars in my vision were wreaking havoc with my
eyesight. I blinked in an effort to clear it, but my lids felt as dry and gummy
as my throat.
You’d think Alex
would have picked up on my distress. But no. He was having too much fun. And
just when things started to go a little black around the edges, he started
pounding into me. I could actually hear him swallowing as he sucked fiercely.
With one final powerful thrust, he came. His teeth retracted from my abused
throat and he shouted with his orgasm.
After a
ridiculously long moment where I wondered what the morgue would say to my
parents when they came to identify me, he lowered his mouth to my neck again,
this time lapping at it gently, sealing off the wound. Jesus.
My heart was in its
death throws and he was cozying up.
How is it possible
that one man (granted Alex is six foot two and built like a lumberjack) consume
that much blood? I mean, I know he’s a vampire. And at 125 lbs., I probably
have less blood than the average 6 pints - before he turned me into a human
slurpee. But even half that amount should be tough to drink down for anybody.
“Oh baby, that was
so fucking awesome.” Alex whispered in his ‘sexy voice’, all husky and dark.
Usually, I thought it was funny. Today, I just wanted him to get off and shut
up. “You were amazing, Cass.”
Yeah. That’s me.
The amazing, nearly dead girl. I tried to clear my throat so that I could tell
him exactly what I was thinking at the moment about his post-coital dirty talk,
but it came out more like a gurgle. Talk about frustrating.
“Cass?” His deep
voice took on a concerned tone. I tried to focus on it without much luck. I
think he finally realized something was wrong, because decided to shake me like
a rag doll. I was going to stake him with the thickest broom handle I could find.
“Oh shit! Cass?
Come on.” Great. Now he was panicking. Better late than never, I guess. I
wanted to open my eyes and glare at him. I wanted to move, but my stupid body
wouldn’t obey. I couldn’t even lift my hand. And it wasn’t like the jerk had
moved off me. Or out of me, for that matter. He was primed and ready for round
two, something I’d always appreciated about him. Now it just pissed me off.
Something hard
smacked my face. I gasped, wedged open my eyes, and wished I hadn’t. His jaw
was coated with my blood. His eyes were glowing just a little like a cat’s at
night. It freaked me out.
“Cass?” He looked
as scared as I felt.
I managed two
words. “Call. Ambulance.”
He lurched away
from me and scrambled off the bed. For a second, he just stood there looking at
me in horror. “Oh shit. Shit!”
Then he did the
damnedest thing. He grabbed his pants off the floor and left the room at a run.
Right into the bathroom. I could hear him in there puking. He drank my fucking
blood and now he was regurgitating it? What a fucking waste.
If I survived, I was never letting him touch me again.
