games of lust and sacrifice

I wake first. My everything hurts. Especially my eyes, which feel the sunlight like large pebbles pressing against them. My body spent the night desperately trying to sustain itself. My vitality—sugars, fats, immune agents, hormonal regulation, oxygen transport—everything my body needed is probably right now flowing through your veins, or perhaps thickened like black pudding in your intestines.

After a full minute trying to focus I realise the blur next to me on your bed is not you, but Allison. I startle awake. She is dead.

No. Not dead. Just waxy and pale. I watch her draw a breath and remember the first time you drained me to the point of death. As I recall, you ordered me takeaway breakfast. It was still hell. My chest hurt from struggling to breathe enough to keep my system going.

Her breathing rattles like mine did. I resolve to take care of her—you spared her!—when I notice your note on the pillow.

Clearly you expected me to recover first. “Take care of my new toy.” You signed with a kiss. Even paper feels heavy so I let that hand sag to my chest. Excitement. I’m so ridiculously happy for Allison that even I think it’s over the top. This just be what evangelists feel like when someone reads their literature.

Okay, first things first. Water. Sweet things. Support her body. I want her in tip top—

She hasn’t breathed since I started reading the note. Her lips are blue.

Adrenaline makes up for only a tenth of what I lack, but I manage to scrabble upright. Two fingers to the neck find what might be a heartbeat or might be imagination. I begin.

I never told you. When I became an atheist I took a First Aid weekend course with St John Ambulance. Felt like the right thing to do if you only get one life. It’s funny to me that learning I was wrong completely flipped my attitude to preserving life. You showed me that we in fact survive death and I immediately dedicated my life to feeding you as many lives and souls as I bodily could. Yet more evidence of a flaw in my logic.

But you are not here to make this death holy. She must not die except for you. I clear her airways any give her the rescue breaths, then bounce on her chest in a jaunty rhythm that straightaway causes my whole upper body to burn with exhaustion.

I’m just considering 999 when she suddenly takes a deep breath. A little colour has come back to her cheeks. Fuck, that was close. It would have torn me up if she’d gone to waste.

Her eyes flicker half-open. Dark brown shines against whites that are almost blue. The gaze is unfocused and vague. She mumbles, “I’m going to miss my bus.”

“Relax Allison. You’re okay. You need to rest. I’m going to take care of you. … It’s Andrew, remember?”

A minute motion of her head might be a nod.

“I’m going to get you something to drink.. You lost a lot of blood. But I’m going to make sure you’re okay.”

“… Raven?”

“She’ll be back. She left me to look after you.”

She closes her eyes, seemingly overcome by fatigue. “Have to go.”

“Not going anywhere for a moment, Allison. You’ll feel a lot better by this evening. Then Raven will be back. Probably. Listen.” I put my hand on her shoulder and she looks at me. I get flashbacks to last night: we had stared at one another across your body. At one point I was buried deep inside your pussy while you dug your lethal fangs into her femoral artery and furiously masturbated her. If I fucked you harder you slowed in the drinking so Allison would last longer.

The whole evening had been like that. Games of lust, sacrifice, dares and danger. I’ve never experienced anything like it.

“She likes you,” I say into those scared brown eyes. “She let you live. I like you too.

“Now you stay put. I’m going to take care of you. We need to build up your strength.”

I don’t know what that strength will be used for. It’s not my choice.

Honestly, it’s no longer Allison’s choice either.

Lucky girl.