MICHAELS’ BODY WAS stiff as he sat on the swing, everything still except for the slow-motion of the chains, swaying back and forth. He shivered as the damp mist coated his skin, yet he could not move his hands away from the chains. Invisible shackles clamped around his wrist, holding each finger captive against the freezing metal.
His lips parted, but no sound came out, just choked breaths as he felt her on his lap, swinging with him. Tears and sweat mixed with the moisture that was clinging against his pallid face and the shivering turning into jerking tremors as he felt the small hand of his captor stroking his bruised neck.
“Shhh...” She whispered, her voice high and soft, tainted with a slight hiss. “Just another bite...” She giggled, her dark hair clinging to her pale, chubby cheeks. She was so small; she had placed her knees onto his lap as eyed the veins of his neck greedily; veins that still pulsed with sweet and thick life. She moved closer, long lashes fluttering over her red irises, lips puckering before opening wide. Her jaw stretched as her canines lengthened into two sharp, thin needles, saliva dripping along with the ivory fangs before they pressed against the flesh.
He spasmed at the bite; the needles sinking deep into his flesh, piercing his veins. He wanted to scream, but no sound would come out. His mouth opened, like a gasping fish out of the water.
Once again, before he could taste freedom in death, his captor pulled back, licking the crimson fluid seeping from the fresh wounds. His eyes darted side to side, seeing lights in the distance, lights that glowed against the fog. A feeling that he wished would abandon him swelled up inside of him.
Hope.
His captor noticed it too, her long tongue dancing along her lips and chin, cleaning it off the blood. She sniffed the air, frowning, “Old...liver poisoned. Smells like cigarettes, whiskey, and false wisdom.” Her eyes narrowed with disappointment before she lifted her head up to smell the air again.
A little moan escaping her throat as she tried to stop her salivating, taking in a much more pleasant scent. “Strong, in good health, superstitious and even familiar? Intriguing.” She tilted her head as her meal whimpered. “Don’t be jealous. I’m sure you’ll be happy to have more cattle to die with.”