Poison

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Here you go! :D

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Whir-whir.

It took me a minute as I slowly came into conscious to realize what I was hearing was the heater. My eyes opened hesitantly, the black around them fading gradually like a camera lens. I shifted my legs against my comforter, wanting instantly to go back asleep but too awake now to—I flung my blanket off and sat up then immediately fell onto the pillow again. My head was throbbing, no, pulsating. I almost cried out as the dizziness settled, but once it did I noticed the weight of my own body, the ache, along with the complete disgust in the idea of food. I grabbed one of the extra pillows and put it over my eyes. I felt like I'd had about ten too many beers which followed an induced stumble into the street that ended with me plastered to the front of a semi going eighty.

I was pretty sure I hadn't been drinking last night. I had gone for a drive and was kidnapped by Thom, but he was—not dead. I'd seen the photos. The cops wanted to know if I'd intentionally convinced him to kill himself. I hadn't, but I might as well have. Yet, I'd seen him last night.

How did that make sense?

I recalled his eyes: dark, red, and animalistic; his tendency to move while I blinked, and then his teeth. A chill trickled from my spine to each of my limbs and my hand darted to my neck. My fingers burned from my skin and I pulled away. A steady pain radiated from the spot on my throat where I'd been bitten by the other one.

The other what? What were they?

I was fighting my logic as hard as I could, but the harder my neck throbbed, the louder the word seemed in my head.

Vampires.

Blood ghouls. Night stalkers. Blood suckers.

I resisted the urge to touch my wound again. Had that—man drank my blood? Had he tried to kill me?

Then why was I in my bed?

The pain increased to such a degree that I hissed so I wouldn't groan. I couldn't ignore it anymore. I rolled out of bed, clumsily, shakily and stumbled my way to the bathroom, it wasn't far at all—less than ten steps from my bed, but I kept needing to stop and grab whatever was nearby to keep from collapsing. I knocked things over on my desk and nearly slid to the floor trying to grab the wall before I got a good grasp on the doorway of the bathroom. When I fumbled for the light I instantly regretted it. The light, normally dim in my memory, was so bright, my eyes were watering before I could turn it off again. I buried my face into the towel hanging under the light switch trying to calm my breathing and dry my face.

After a moment, I slowly pulled the towel away, letting my eyes adjust before I tried to look around. A little light drifted into the bathroom from the draped window, reflecting off of the wall and to the mirror then back again. It was enough for me to take in my reflection.

I definitely looked hung over. The bags under my eyes made their dark irises look even smaller than normal, my skin pasty, my body hunched over. My neck was the worse. There was no wound, not a trace, no small red dots to show any kind of puncture marks, but my veins were raised, completely inflamed covering most of my neck. I tugged at my shirt to see how far it spread. The ruby threads had begun a steady crawl over my collar bone, a few touching the top of my breast, like tracks small creatures leave behind in the mud. They were heading straight for my heart.

I crashed out of the bathroom as best as I could and began stumbling down the hall.

"Mom!" I called, slipping on the stairs from the socks still on my feet.

I saw her head rise from its tilt over a book as she sat on the couch.

"Oh, you're up." She closed her book with a careful surety.

I grasped the rail at the bottom of the steps to hold me up. "Mom." I breathed again.

She was getting up slowly from the couch, not really looking at me, but looking stern.

"The police brought you home last night, passed out." I knew that voice. It was her "what would the neighbors think" voice.

"I know Mom, I—"

"Do you think that's appropriate?" Her eyebrows raised and so did her voice a few octaves, then she looked at me. "Hmm?" Her glare was enough to make me want to scream, she was looking right at me. Could she not see my neck?

I squeezed my mouth shut. There was no way she was going to lecture me for something completely bogus while I was dying.

She locked gazes with me, but neither of us budged, that's the pesky thing about genes.

"Fine." She exasperated quietly. "We will talk when you're not hung over. I'll get you something to eat."

"Mom, wait –"she ignored me and continued her trek to the kitchen. Clearly, she wasn't going to listen to me. Fine, I'd drive myself to the hospital.

I was glad to find my purse and keys right where they were supposed to be along with my moccasins, but my car wasn't. It wasn't in the garage and when I hobbled outside I didn't find it in the driveway or on the street either.

"Kae?"

I turned to see my neighbor, James standing in his own driveway. We'd gone to high school together and we were never really friends, but we were friendly. He'd always been especially kind to me.

"James. I need your help." I began to make my way toward him when I stumbled on the lawn. When I thought my hands would hit the grass, I stopped falling.

"Whoa." James said softly, holding me up carefully. "You okay?"

"No." I strained, then clenched my teeth, suddenly hit with a wave of pain in my head, light hurt again. I felt myself lowered to the grass and didn't care to object. Hopefully, he was smart enough to call 9-1-1. I didn't really know.

"Stay right here." He murmured hurriedly.

I crushed my palms against my eyes and groaned and stayed where I was. I thought the pain would lessen if I just sat here, but it steadily increased. "James?" I moaned too soft for myself to hear, it was hardly a whimper.

I heard the crunch of shoes on grass as James said, "Smell this."

I inhaled, strangely obedient.

Garlic?

My stomach instantly clenched and I gasped, flying forward onto my knees. I felt James shielding me, one of his hands wrapping around my hair, the other on the small of my back. My ears started ringing and then I began to vomit.

I don't know how long I knelt there chucking everything I had and even what I didn't, but I could have sworn I heard James as he rubbed my back say, "There you go. Let all of that venom out."

I'd finally started to stop, trying to catch my breath against James legs when I heard the sirens. I glimpsed my mother standing with her arms crossed in the driveway before an ambulance and then a cop car came to a calm stop in front of us. 

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Thom

 <---Previous Love Me Dead Post

Here's something to satisfy you. :)

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I thought she would cry for me.

I mean, I'd hoped she would, just a little.

The table was cool. At least Thom knew it was supposed to be; he was able to recall the feeling like ice against his human skin. Now it felt no different from his cheek. The metallic scent pervaded his nose like someone had sprayed too much perfume, but it had a touch of purity to it, like water. He raised his head from the steel slab and quickly observed the dim, small room. It looked much like an interview room: a single overhead light, a table in the center, two chairs; one on either side. Thom occupied one; the other was intended for whoever was going to interrogate him. Not that Thom had ever been arrested for any reason before, but he'd watched crime shows from time to time.

There was a movement and Thom's eyes locked onto the one way glass in front of him. He could tell how thick it was, at least a foot in depth, which probably made it indestructible considering the shallow gashes here and there all over its surface. Something had tried to do it serious damage, and failed.

Whoever was on the other side of the glass walked to the door next to it, turning the knob.

"Where's Kaelyn?" Thom hissed just as the door opened a crack.

The man said nothing; he was scrawny, but not weak. Thom could see that much with a quick scan up his length, but his eyes held a knowledge, a wisdom. Thom couldn't begin to fathom its origin.

The man gripped the second chair leaning forward slightly.

"Calm down. I know that at your new age your moods are eccentric and intense, but you can control them."

He kept his gaze locked with Thom until Thom realized that his hands were digging into the table, his fingertips stinging. He released it clumsily, brushing his hands on his pants. His fingertips were singed, there must have been silver under the surface.

"We'll work on that." The man mumbled as he slowly sat in the chair.

Every movement he'd done up to this point hadn't seemed abnormal to Thom, but this seemed strangely slow.

A Styrofoam cup appeared in front of Thom, he missed how it got there, but it smelled warm familiar, almost like—but it wasn't. "What is that?" Thom sneered.

"A heated blood synthetic." The man answered. "We often refer to it as hot Kool-Aid. Little joke." The man didn't laugh, didn't even smile. Thom didn't flinch.

It didn't smell necessarily appealing, but not bad either. Thom didn't want it, but he picked up the cup and took a sip. Like he thought, he could drink more. It tasted like it wanted to be blood, but definitely wasn't like artificial sugar tried so hard to taste sweet. He knew he needed it, but only gave into that need so he didn't kill anyone later—in the name of food anyway.

"My name is Derek, Thomas." The man, now Derek said, but didn't offer his hand. Smart man. "Kaelyn is fine and you'll see that for yourself soon enough. I'll bet by that time you won't want to though."

Thom downed the rest of the drink and then slammed the cup on the table sending a definite thump through the room, crushing the cup into a small circle of what now looked like paper.

Derek's eyes moved to the cup, then to Thom's face. "You have a lot of fear and a lot of rage, but there's also a determination." His hand moved forward and he grasped the remains of the cup between his index and middle finger then dropped it nonchalantly into the nearby trashcan. "We're going to harness that determination. We're going to get you in control of your body, of your nature, of your desires and anything else that stops you from living like you want to."

(Thom knew he wasn't just offering him a free platter, there had to be something he wanted.)

Derek leaned forward and lowered his voice to a whisper, "I know this isn't an existence you chose. I can't rid you of it, unless death is what you want, but I can help you take advantage of it and possibly get revenge if you desire, as long as you help us."

Ah the catch. "And how would I do that?"

A smile appeared on Derek's face. "Oh, I think you'll like this part."

‘Til Death Do Us Part

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Hey all. This is my next little snippet for Love Me Dead. It's very short and I wrote it sort of a while ago. I will hopefully have more soon!

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Waking up in pitch black is like getting turned on your head. It feels wrong, disorienting, and you can hardly breathe. I was lying on my side, my one arm falling asleep sending sharp tingles like electricity to my neck. I could taste the wood in my breath and feel the unyielding planks against my back. I could feel the knots forming already along my shoulders and spine. That was the only information I needed.

I inhaled again as I tried to fight the fear and smelled the death and dirt. That did it. Tears swelled in my eyes and I tried to stifle my sob.

I was in my coffin, my grave, and I would die here.

Someone would find my car abandoned on the side of the road, if at all, with the fingerprints of a dead man on the handle. Someone would call my parents. They would blame themselves for not talking to me. My mom would never forgive herself for letting me leave and Lance wouldn't understand; just like he hadn't when Thom died. They would probably try to be cute and bury me next to him, but this there won't be a body this time. They wouldn't even know that the other grave is just as empty.

I couldn't stop myself from wanting to open my eyes as wide as I could to keep the darkness from seeping in. That's what death was: darkness—cold lifelessness.

I started moving my arm to wipe my face when it brushed against something. Something that was definitely not wood. I held my breath and tentatively patted whatever was next to me with my fingertips. Jeans. That was definitely jeans and there was definitely flesh behind them. Cold, dead flesh.

Thom.

He came for me like I knew he would and this was his revenge. Together forever. That's what he'd always said.

I was going to suffocate, starve and go insane. Whichever came first would be the drop. I had enough sense to know that I would go through agonizing hours, but I hoped the finale didn't hurt and that there would be nothing after.

This thought crossed my mind just as Thom's arm, chilled and slithering, ran along my waist, up my back and around the back of my neck like a teasing noose.

The scream the exploded from me wasn't anything I ever would have expected from myself. I was sure it was nothing I could reproduce on command. As it hit the walls of the coffin, going nowhere else and dying into silence, I couldn't help but scream louder, if that was even possible.

As my scream began to fade, light burst into my vision. Before I knew what was happening I was on my feet, in the grasp of hands like frozen steel, meeting a gaze more violet than blue that was quickly gone again.

"FOOL!"

When the eyes disappeared so did that hands that had been holding me. I staggered for a moment before I found my footing just in time to see the coffin I had just been in flip over with a crash.

Thom sprang out of what seemed to be nowhere in front of the coffin which now lay on its side, the lid splayed open against the wall.

A small growl rolled its way out of Thom as his eyes fell on me. Any moment and he would spring.

"I told you I wouldn't give you any orders unless I didn't have any other choice and this is specifically what I ordered you not to do."

A stone-gray arm was thrust toward me and I followed its length to a head of hair that was a somewhere between white, gray, and silver. The type you'd see on people like Richard Greer. There was always something strangely attractive about it no matter how old they were.

"I had to disobey." Thom hissed, his eyes trained on the silver-haired man ready for the slightest movement.

The man didn't move from his position between us even though it was clear that Thom was much bigger than him, but it was like that for everyone when it came to Thom.

A small, chilling chuckle came from the stranger. "That's the thing, Thom." Then he turned his head and his vibrant eyes fell on me again as his mouth fell into a deep from. "Now you've forced my hand."

Glittering fangs appeared from his mouth and I had enough time to gasp before they were in my throat.

People always describe pain like being pierced by hot daggers. This wasn't hot at all, but ice cold, sending goose bumps down the length of my body. It was the last thing I registered before I passed out.

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Love Me Dead

 A NEW ONE! I know I haven't had one for a while and this has been sifting for some time. I tried my HARDEST not to fall into the crack with everyone else and write a vampire story, but this idea leaked in a while back and I just couldn't ignore it. Yes, this needs tons of work, but I wanted this initial bit out. Hope you like the idea!

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Darkness. It's something you are used to in the depth of sleep. Alone in your room. Nothing but silence to bother you, but it's a safe darkness. Nothing like the darkness of four wooden walls, two by six and a half feet. A cold, unmoving body next to you.

I knew who was lying in the dark with me and why I was here. And as much as I was waiting for and expecting my punishment, I was still terrified to the point where I couldn't squirm, couldn't find a way out, or even muster a scream. At least, until the arm of the dead body slid around my waist.



I put our picture away. I couldn't keep looking at it knowing he was gone. Knowing that wherever he was, he wasn't smiling and he didn't love me anymore.

I wouldn't talk about it and when the pastor came by all fake smiles and soft tones, he told my family it would be best just to leave me alone for the time being.

"Don't press it until she's ready." He'd said, his arm resting a little too firmly on my mother's shoulder.

I'd never be ready. I didn't need to be. It was my fault and everyone knew it. Nothing else needed to be said. I couldn't save my soul if I wanted to.

Thom was dead.

And I killed him.

The police said his suicide had nothing to do with me, but they didn't know that it should have been my fingerprints on the razor, not his.

And if that didn't convict me, then the fact that I was seeing him everywhere, that he was haunting me would land me in a mental hospital at least.

I couldn't attribute it to imagination, trick of the light. He was definitely there, solid and unmoving. Behind me in mirrors, passing me on the street, sitting alone in a dark booth while I work at the local bar and grill, waiting by my car when my shift was over. He'd never look up. Never let me see his face, his hands always in his pockets or in the shadows. He was hiding his wrists from me. And when I'd blink, he'd always be gone again.

I had no doubt that, sooner or later, I wouldn't just be seeing him. His ghost was a sign, a warning. He'd be coming for me soon.


I lugged my heavy feet up the stairs toward my room after my closing shift at work. It was nearly two in the morning. I was exhausted to say the least, ready to flop into bed without even taking off my apron, but my little brother stopped me in my tracks.

Rubbing his eye he stumbled out of his room, slow from sleep. "Kae." He yawned.

"Lance, what are you doing up so late?" I walked over and scooped him up. He was three years old. Born when I was nineteen. In some ways he felt more like my kid than my brother. I kissed his head as he cuddled into my shoulder, he'd been clinging on to me more and more lately.

"Thom was at the door while you were at work." He said. His words delayed, but my heart started pounding in my chest the moment he said his name.

I knew that this could both be true and just a late night dream. Still, he didn't really understand what had happened to Thom. "Oh? What did he say?" I cooed.

"I told him…you weren't home…." He began as I laid him down in his bed again. "And he said… he'd find you…later." He finished with a yawn.

"Okay." I leaned down and brushed his hair out of his face, doing my best to keep my hand from shaking. "Thanks for telling me."

He mumbled something incoherent than started to fall asleep again. I had to keep myself from running from the room.

Fine.

If he was going to find me, it wouldn't be anywhere near my family.

I hit the stairs again, fishing my keys out of my purse when my mom poked her head out of her room.

"What'd Lance say?"

I didn't stop my decent down the stairs, "Nothing mom, he just had a dream."

I'd let my panic sink in the second I thought I was alone, so this came out rushed and cracked.

"Kaelyn, what's wrong?" She was at the top of the stairs as I was at the bottom.

"I'm just going for a drive!" I called as I closed the door behind me. I had to get out of there.

The only thing was, I wasn't sure if I was going to be back.

The chilly fog that had settled on my way home earlier hit me harder than I thought as I made my way to my car. My keys clanked in my hands as I shivered trying to open the door. Part of me expected him to be sitting next in the passenger's seat and I was glad when he wasn't.
 
I hadn't gone far, but far enough to get out of the housing area and into the winding coastal road looking over the ocean. It was a wonderful sight, but there wasn't anywhere to really sit and enjoy it or even get close to the water, just endless cliffs. There was a break in the fog along the water, the full moon giving it a peaceful silver glow.

I rounded a long corner, keeping my eyes close on the road, despite the hour I knew that I could easily make a mistake passing another vehicle or even misjudging the side of the cliff and fall to my death.

My headlights illuminated the road, a sudden clearing in the fog. I could see more ahead and the front of it was a silhouette I knew by heart.

I considered driving right through him. He was a ghost, so I could do that…right?

Thom's figure didn't waver, flicker, or float.

But what if he wasn't a ghost, what if he was still alive? No. I'd seen his body at the funeral. So a zombie? Then would driving through him be so terrible? It'd be a better alternative to getting my brain eaten. He'd probably rip out my heart first then toss what he didn't eat over the cliff.

The closer I got the more my headlights made shadows across his face and arms. The light was definitely hitting something. I couldn't see through any part of his body.

Damn.

I slammed on my breaks.

The screeching of my tires against the road rang through my ears like frenzied coyotes. I came up to Thom like someone had put Zoom on hyper-drive. I was sure I was going to hit him, but to my surprise, the car halted just inches from his legs.

No one moved for a moment. I sat white knuckling the wheel and he stood, head down, a frown on his face.

I blinked and he was gone.

I let out a breath. More tricks then.

It wasn't until the chill bit at my ankles that I realized my car door was open and Thom was leaning in.

"Hey babe." He said as I turned, my heart in my throat. Thom peered down at me with eyes redder than blood, his irises almost invisible in the near black darkness of it. "Did you miss me?" he added, a smile jumping onto his lips a set of white fangs appearing in his teeth. And that was when I started to scream.