“Are those pictures of your family?” she asked. Wil answered “Yes, would you like to see them?” They stared at the portraits and the deep brown photo’s and Wil shared a little about himself.

He wanted so badly to know more about her. “How bout you...whats your story” he asked. She didn’t have much to say, save for the fact that she felt more like a tenant than a daughter in her own home. This kind of story was not new to him. All the while he watched her. He watched the way her lips moved, the way her eyes nervously darted around the room. He watched the way she used her hands as a means of expression and thought about those hands touching him.

The leather handbag on the table seemed to call to him. It held implements that she had never seen before. Immaculately sterile straight razors and hermetically sealed syringes.The underground trully had come into its own being able to secure tools only found in medical buildings. He asked her one more time if she wished to continue. “Yes...I want to help.” He smiled and opened the bag.

The syringe seemed the only logical answer. He couldn’t see scaring her beautiful skin no matter how hard he was jonesing. Her huge black eyes made no contact with his. She was staring at the floor and not wanting to see the needle. She soon focused her gaze on the television which was showing something racy . For a moment she felt dirty.

“I won’t take too much.” He said “You might get ill.” His timidness with her was touching she thought.

“I won’t call it taking from you.” He pulled the needle from her vein. ‘You can’t take from someone you owe your life to.

You own me now.” His look scared her.

In one fluid motion. The needle slid from her vein, she feels the tug from inside. He handles the tube with care and swabs the fold of her arm with alcohol closing her arm onto the cotton ball.

“You aren’t asking questions.” he said trying to make his voice as soothing as possible. “I feel at ease for some reason.” she giggled slightly and inspected the small hole under the cotton.

“You’ve done this before.” She said. His eye’s never left hers and as he explained she witnessed his pupils fill his eyes. “I’ve needed it for sometime and like many things in life the more you practice the better you get.” “Have there been many?” she reluctantly asked, her face was emotion less now and he prayed to himself that she be slightly jealous.

“About five donors in my life.” He caressed the tube that was laying between them “And all have been the dearest of friends.” He sighed as he remembered all of them, none of them lovers but more like sibling in a close family but She was different, he knew he was falling for her and it just wasn’t the blood talking.

That night from the moment he pulled the rubber stopper from the tube and raised it to his lips his senses slowed to an almost eery crawl. Movement was fluid and an ethereal sense took them both over. She studied his body as it tensed up. He began to drink the red liquid from the tube and a wave of warmth washed over her. This was her blood, the very blood which enstilled volition into her lifeless flesh and fed her heart.

He reached over to her and brought her closer. “Here, drink.” she held back under his powerful grasp. “Do I have to?” She said pushing the crimson tube away. “Perhaps you want my blood instead?” She shook her head in refusal. “No...I’m not ready yet.” Wil finished the blood and then slid his finger into it retrieving as much as possible. Pulling his finger from his lips he smiled. She wondered if the fangs were real.

“I can’t stay long Wil, my Father will be waiting.” I won’t keep you long, its just that I enjoy your company.” He was laying back on the bed and the veins in his neck and arms were jumping. “Is it painful ? do you feel it when you take it in?” He smiled “You could say that.” He ran his hands over his stomach and then his chest and reached out to her.

“I want a hug, some proof that you’ll be back.” Her look turned puzzled. ‘I’ll always be back.” They fell into each others arms for just a moment.

She pulled away first not wanting things to lead on. ‘I’ll call you later to check in on you, OK?” until then remember don’t go out and for god sake don’t drive.” She smiled and the dimple leaped from her flushed cheeks “You know what they say about drinking and driving.” She was gone in an instant or so it seemed. He still felt slow and weighted down but was confident that it wouldn’t last. He missed her already.

Stepping cautiously down the stairs she was startled by the intrusion of a car horn.She suddenly looked at her arm and began to roll the sleeve down past her puncture mark. Taking a deep breath she walked out into the light of mid-day, He could see it all in his head and felt her drive away all the time getting further from his heart.

He felt angry at himself for not telling her of the last donor, the one that caused him to feel like a monster. The way he felt about her would prove to trouble him. What if she should change her mind. Not wanting to partake in this loathsome lifestyle and climb from the depths of his dark world. To leave is not so simple. When a lover leaves they take with them love and a certain warmth and security. When a donor leaves they take with them life. He did what he did to save his own life. He needed blood to live but now he needs her too.

Perhaps the little lies that separate us from ourselves are best left to the recesses of our souls but should he need a confessor, A soul to absolve him She would have to listen and in turn stare her possible fate in the eye.

In her father’s car among the stale cigar odor that lingered and the talk radio in the background, she placed her hand on the needle mark and smiled.