It was after midnight again, and I was in a local corner store browsing for a snack. It had been only two nights ago that I had drank from Richard, but already my thirst was eagerly returning. His flavour was intoxicating; I had to find something soon to quench the desire. From the back corner of the store where the coolers were, I was eyeing a young couple at the counter. The young man was tall and muscular wearing jeans and a jersey. Tattoos laced his arms and neck. The girl was quite a bit younger than he was, and very skittish. I slipped along the aisles and stepped out the door just as they finished paying for a package of rolling papers and a bottle of Dr. Pepper.  

“Jeezus, I wanna knock that guy out!” The male said as he grabbed his girl and headed off across the lot. “He was checkin' you out and you know I hate that!"  

Quite the opposite, I suspected. I could smell his pheromones wafting back towards me and pheromones don't lie. This guy enjoyed the rush of competition. Like Richard, his hormones spoke volumes. There was so much to that boy that intrigued me. I shook my head and blinked. The couple crossed the street and along the sidewalk on the other side. I stepped out from behind the phone booth at the corner of the building and followed. About a block away they disappeared down an alleyway.

I heard the girl exclaim as her keeper surprised her. I slowed at the mouth of the alley and I heard the sounds of sloppy and greedy lust. From his hoarse grunts I knew they weren't far down the alley. The girl's weak objections were hollow. I could sense that she was well deluded into believing her relationship with this brute was enjoyable, and that her resistance was a long standing habit. A poor excuse for romance by far.  

I walked across the opening of the alley without my eyes straying too far down towards them, though I did see them. The male briefly glanced up and continued his molestation. His hands were clasped around her waist, and her neck. I heard him mutter something and the shuffling of feet along the gravel. They were moving away, but not far. I visualized their position as I kept track of them by my other senses. I walked away from the entrance of the alley and followed the next street parallel to the alley passing in front of three houses before I reached the right distance. I stopped and adjusted the cuff of my shirt.  

In that moment I opened my senses to see smell and hear signs of life around me. There was no one in danger of seeing me stand there. The nearest animal was a cat crossing the street ahead languidly, passively glancing in my direction before darting off with a hiss. I stood where two lots met; the houses of both were peaceful with slumber. Behind them I heard minimal activity from the other homes along the alleyway.  

I shot towards the space between the houses and deftly somersaulted into the enclosed yard of the house on the left. I landed beside a small herb garden and rolled away soundlessly. Back on my feet, I surged towards the back fence bordering on the alley. I vaulted over the barrier effortlessly and corrected my trajectory at the last moment. The girl had just stepped away from the male, and he began to follow. I landed behind the young man, flanking him on the right. I reached passed him and silenced the shock rising up in the girl's throat at my appearance. I snaked my other arm around the male's neck and shut off any vocal response from him. Immediately he struggled against me. He elbowed me in the stomach, and then realized that it would take much more to shake me.  

Sparks of panic erupted from each of them and my senses tingled with anticipation.  

The female fainted; I dropped her and forced the young man to look me in the eye with my free hand. His struggle faltered and he was slack jawed in horror. My eyes seared into his and he sank to his knees. I released my physical grip on him. He quivered there looking up at me. I placed my fingers under his chin and told him to stay where he was. He complied and I knew he would stay.  

I then stepped over to the girl where she began to stir. I scooped her up and let her open her eyes and see me. She froze in my arms. I placed a slender finger upon her lips and felt her tremble. I glanced at the male again and commanded, “Watch.”  

I refocused back on the girl and studied her face. I caught myself comparing some of her features to Richard, the delicate ears, the full lips, and the long eyelashes. I quickly stopped that train of thought.  

I began to caress her throat and neck. She shivered at my touch. I slid my hands across her body where her skin was bare and I made her convulse with pleasure. She was clawing at me and writhing by the time I sank my teeth into her, and when I did I saw that the young man was wide eyed.  

He knew that he would never match even a tenth of what I just gave her. Little did he know, no human could. Moreover, the knowledge that such raw pleasure could exist would ruin him.  

I stopped feeding before I was fully satiated. Even in the act, as primal as it was, I still thought of Richard. I left the young couple in the alleyway both had experienced something earth shattering, and it mattered little to me now.  

If by chance the man could ever give words to what he saw, he would sound crazy. The girl would have forgotten the details of the event, traces of my saliva in her bloodstream would have prevented her from retaining most if not all of what I did to her. 

I walked back to my basement apartment. Time passed without a blink, though I was subconsciously aware it took me exactly twenty three minutes to arrive at the door. I was also aware of a pair of eyes watching me as I entered. I knew that Richard was home alone. I sensed him and his longing. I descended the half flight of stairs into my apartment and shut the door behind me. I pulled out my cell phone and studied it for a few minutes before setting the ringer from silent to vibrate and placing it on the coffee table. I sat back on the sofa, the residual aroma left behind on it from Richard's near naked body enveloped me. Visions flashed in my mind of compromising scenes. I clenched my teeth and growled at them.  

I told myself it was just his blood that I'm lusting after; that I couldn't desire another human like this since—“No!”  

I shed my clothes and walked into the bathroom. I cranked open one of the old water valves all the way and stood underneath a cascade of scalding hot water. The heat enveloped me and I imagined being cocooned and embraced by warmth. My skin tingled as it was its surface nearly boiled yet healed just as quickly. I felt alive then. I stood there until the healing process began to slow. That meant the fresh blood in my system was being used up. I stood there longer until the hot water ran out then I shut the water off and let my body catch up and heal itself from the prolonged moment of trauma. My skin, speckled with droplets and rivulets of water was freshly regenerated skin. Normally it would strengthen and I would be back to tip top shape again, but using up what little fresh blood I had consumed so wastefully my body lacked the sufficient fuel to finish the process. It also meant that I was famished.  

The footsteps upstairs told me that Richard was pacing. I could hear him muttering to himself too. I thought for a moment that I should go out and replenish myself, but I was stubborn. I had spent decades fine-tuning the control I had on my hunger. I wasn't going to let some teenage boy destroy that. I aimed to grab some light clothing before I realized that all I had for “around the house” was a white designer tank top with brown trim, and sand coloured boxers which were much nicer than the boxers Richard found me in the other night.

I slipped into the outfit and headed upstairs. I knocked on the door.  

The sound of Richard's footsteps racing towards the door brought images of a puppy running across a slippery floor. Amused, I smirked at the visual and there was a moment of pause before the door swung open. I was standing on a lower step, so when the door did open I was looking up at Richard, smirking still. He stood there agape, wide eyed, very much in awe of what he found at his door. I stepped up onto the threshold of his home, his eyes locked onto mine. He struggled and failed to gain his senses. 

“I assume you're invitation still stands.” It wasn't a question. He had invited me to visit him the night I found him downstairs. But the buzzing in my head begged for clarification. Also, I was being polite, and giving him the chance to collect himself. He swallowed and nodded before any words eagerly spilled out.  

“Yes. Y—yes! Come in.”  

I took a step forward and brushed passed him. I felt the boy's body shudder. Most of my senses were heightened even more so now. His excitement fed my own. I was treading on very dangerous ground, but I was confident in my abilities. I felt his eyes along my entire body as I walked into the middle of his kitchen and surveyed my surroundings.  

The odours I smelled seemed cluttered and overlapping. Richard's home was very much as ‘homey’ as I could imagine without becoming a rats nest. But I don't blame him so much as his father, the man was simply unkempt. I turned to face Richard and saw that his hair was all askew, and his clothes were well worn. The tee shirt was ripped at one armpit, and his shorts seemed to need some patchwork as well. I tasted his aroma on my tongue simply by breathing normally and I'm sure he hadn't washed yet today, or at least since the morning. I smiled at him. 

“Umm, have a seat wherever you like. Did you want to sit in the kitchen?” He briefly motioned to the table laden with randomness. “Or would you prefer the living room where it's more comfortable?"  

“Living room then,” I told him and then stood there watching his face as he continued to stare at me. “Why are you looking at me like that?”  

“You're skin. It's so bright and looks so soft." His words were hushed with awe. I didn't even check to know what he said was true. I should have thought when dressing. My hot shower did leave my body in such a state that my skin might seem to be as fresh as a newborn’s. Had I clothed myself more, I could have avoided being such a distraction.  

“I'm fresh out of the shower, and being albino my skin looks like this under florescent lighting.” The fib was nearly a half truth. My skin did appear marginally paler under florescent lights, but it's hard to get lighter than white. Richard rushed into the living room and turned on a lamp, and then he rushed back and shut off the harsh lighting in the kitchen. He motioned me to sit on the couch. I settled down, and noticed that my skin was also more sensitive in its current state. Normally this would bother me; it simply reminded me that I needed to feed again. 

I was smiling when Richard sat down on the other end of the couch but faced me with his legs folded lotus style. He continued to watch me expectantly. I attempted a relaxed pose and crossed my legs and twisted my torso a fraction, and rested an elbow on the armrest and the other arm along the back stretching out towards Richard. His eyes travelled the length of my limb inch by inch. I took this moment to study the boy.  

His jaw hung slack, except when his throat gulped nervously and he licked his pinkish lips. His dark caramel eyes were wide; his eyelashes were long and even darker. He glanced over into my eyes only to take a shudder of a breath and look down at his fidgeting hands on his lap. He was nervous and overwhelmed by me. Everything about me adds up to a perfect predator, no wonder Richard is helpless.  

“So tell me...” My words just hung there in the silence a moment before the boy reacted. He looked up and frowned.  

“Tell you what?” 

“Anything. I'm your guest, entertain me.” I seemed to have thrust upon him a plethora of possibilities with those words. Richard was swallowing hard and he cleared his throat nervously. I turned my gaze away from him and let him gather himself. The living room was cluttered and littered with a multitude of random pieces of memorabilia, paraphernalia, and knick knacks. It was a few more minutes before either of us spoke again. 

“Viktor," Richard's voice wavered with uncertain adolescent nuances but he continued on. “Why are you here? I mean, living in our basement? I think you could live in a much better place, I know it. But you're here, paying my father insane rent instead of staying at a nicer place for the same money. I don't get it. If I could, I would live in the best place farthest away from here." 

I glanced at the boy weighing my answer carefully. I decided to tell him the truth, or at least a small fraction of it. “For me, a place like this is good for me right now. It serves a purpose, though I think I’m ready to move on soon.”  

Richard's thick eyebrows furrowed at that last part. “You're leaving?” His voice pitched higher making him sound child-like.  

“Yes, I think it's time.”  

“Where will you go? When are you leaving?” Richard seemed to catch himself this time and his voice didn't escalate too far.  

“I'll be headed back to the east."  

“Oh.” The boy's face darkened noticeably with disappointment. “I wish I could leave too. I really don't like it here anymore. There's too much to deal with." I heard his voice, how deadpan it was. It was a high contrast to the pain in his eyes. I saw so much in that moment. The boy was lost in a world of turmoil and angst. It was a dark world for him and he was searching for a way out.  

“I'm sure you have had some great moments as well, right?"  

He shook his head and simply stared at me. I saw him, and what he wanted. I was sure of what would happen if I lead him away from this place. He was unconditionally willing. The gravity of it fascinated me. I was compelled by Richard's emotional chaos. I was even tempted to stoke it.  

“How old are you Richard?”  

“I'll be eighteen in two months.”

“It was when I was your age when I first made the most important decision in my life.” My mundane life, that is, I added mentally.  

“How old are you?"

“I'm much older than I look, that's all I can tell you." I expected the question, especially since I asked him that same one no more than ten seconds ago.  

“First time I saw you I actually thought you were younger than me.” Again, he spoke with bad grammar. I didn't correct him.  “But then I knew I was wrong. The way you walked, the way you dressed, even when I heard you talk, I could tell, you were older than you looked, like you said.” 

He fell silent then, as I watched him talk to me. He was nervous but he was reaching out to me, unbeknownst to the dangers of doing so.  

“The other night, I overheard something.” I was reluctant in focusing on recent emotional episodes, but I was probing him delicately, getting to know the boy in my own way. “On your phone, you were speaking to your girlfriend I believe.”  

“Pfft!” Richard drove his face into his hands, but I caught the pained expression. “You heard that? Oh God, I was hoping to forget that crazy conversation. I don't even believe it now.”  

He looked up without seeing and shook his head. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply.  

“Would she lie to you?”  

“I have no idea! Probably! I haven't been with her in weeks. She thought I was cheating on her, and I was sure it was the other way around. We only had sex for real just the once. But...”  

“Things changed after that?” I probed.  

“Yeah,” Richard spoke his answer from a distant place. He was revisiting the past now, and reliving the memory of it. I caught glimpses from reading his emotions.  

“The first time I had sex... it was,” I was remembering too. I thought back to that night so long ago. It was memorable certainly, but far from what I expected. “...fantastic, but strange."  

“Yeah! Like my body was enjoying it but somehow I wasn't really into it. I thought it was the buzz I had from the beer. I don't think she enjoyed it.” Shame coloured his visage and it made him pitiable.  

“Sex is a lot more complicated than we realize it, especially for many females. It's hard to grasp even the simpler aspects when you're so young. The key is to find someone you trust and care for. That makes so much difference.” So much more so for human.  

“I guess.” Richard looked away shyly. He was opening up to me much more than he was prepared for. I continued to press on gently.  

“Was she your first girl?” He glanced sharply at me, whether it was the question's wording, or my tone, I suspected I was getting close to a sensitive issue.  

“Yeah, I haven't been with any other girls.”  

“So, besides her,” I meant to clarify while also to generalize enough to catch a little more information. “she was your only sexual partner.”  

He closed up then, hugging his knees to his chest and avoiding my eyes. His frown was hidden behind his folded arms and he said nothing more for the next few minutes. 

“Look, I'm sorry Richard if I am asking too many personal questions. You don't have to answer any of them okay? I do apologize if I'm making you uncomfortable.”  

It was a good ten minutes before he spoke again, and when he did his eyes darted around in the space between us and his face betrayed the confusion and startled realization he was experiencing.  

“Actually. I don't mind tellin you stuff. I like talking with you. I don't know why that is. But some things are hard to say out loud because I've never told anyone before. It's just…”

“It's okay Richard. I understand that.” I leant forward and gently placed my hand on his forearm. He didn't shy away from me; he didn't even shiver at my touch as I thought he would. He simply stared into empty space and looked lost. Tears welled up in his eyes and he blinked sending them spilling down his cheeks. His chin quivered and his face scrunched up as the sobs shook through his body. 

For a brief moment I didn't know how to react. I'm acutely aware of human behaviour and its idiosyncrasies, but seeing this display from Richard was compelling. He turned from me and curled up at the end of the souch. The boy combed and twisted his fingers through his hair. I slid along the couch and slipped my body beside his and embraced him simply. 

He cried as silently as he could at first, and I felt the emotion beat down his defences quickly. Suddenly he twisted around and grappled me desperately as he wailed openly. The wave of sadness nearly drowned me; I was unprepared for his intensity. It had been so long since I had experienced such emotion! I felt oddly alive. I cradled the boy as his fit ran its course and I soaked it all up. My body tingled with the energy it was soaking up from him. I caressed his face. I gently rubbed his back. I even whispered into his ear. I sussed out his torment with the delicate tenderness of a hummingbird sipping from the sweetest nectar.  

With one long sigh it was over just as quickly as it had started. Richard was still for a moment longer before leaning back to look me in the eye. He looked at me apologetically, with the most vulnerable eyes. I decided to head him off before he said anything.  

“Richard, don't say anything. It's ok. You needed to let it out, that much is obvious.”  

“No, it's not okay.”  

“You feel better don't you?”  

“I don't... well, I do kinda. Yes, but—”  

“But nothing.” My voice intensified. He looked shocked at the change. I continued.

“You're dealing with a lot of stress and adversity, which is not easy. You needed to let some of it go in order to progress and move beyond it. I was only a shoulder to cry on, and I'm glad I was here for you. There's nothing to be ashamed of at all. Trust me, okay?” 

I softened my voice gradually as I spoke and Richard seemed to calm down. I watched him as he stared at me. I could smell the saltiness of his tears on me and his knees were pressed up against my legs the physical contact awakening the hunger within me. I clenched my teeth as a growl blossomed within my chest.  

“Are you hungry?” Richard was refocused on me. He looked me over and no doubt figured my lithe frame and startlingly pale colouring a sign of starvation.  

“No I'm fine.” I watched his eyes lock onto my lips, when I realized I was licking my lips, tasting the traces of him left there when I brushed the top of his head with my mouth.  

“You must be thirsty, I can grab you a glass of juice, or something. I think there's even some wine, though dad will notice if I take too much.” He nearly jumped off the couch and dashed off towards the kitchen.  

“Water will do, thank you." I turned to watch him as he rushed over to a cupboard and grabbed a glass. He filled the glass from the spout on the fridge. He turned and looked at me, with his big dark eyes and brought me the water. A smile crept onto his face.  

That's when he tripped. 

In a flash I was by his side to steady him, but not before he had dropped the glass. It hit the floor with an unnatural thud and bounced. Water sluiced across the floor. On the second impact however, the glass landed with a soft crack, and a few large shards and slivers spread across the floor. Richard gasped and shot a glance to his foot. I followed his gaze, and saw one of the glass pieces had slid between his toes. He tensed and his quick panic overwhelmed me. I saw a small pool of red growing from under his foot. Richard was frantically searching the floor around us.  

“Hold on.” I said, and I lifted him and carried him to the far corner of the kitchen creating a trail of red droppings in our wake. I set him onto the island countertop. My senses were spiking, and I was quickly realizing the threat approaching.  

“I need to stop the bleeding!” His voice cracked shrilly. He lifted his foot for closer inspection, and blanched. “Oh god, it's quite bad. I need to wrap it up. Lots of pressure!”  

“No.” I told him. I wasn't seeing everything; my vision was starting to tunnel. I began to feel the fever, rushing me.  

“You don't understand. I can bleed to death!” His voice was shrill.  

“No.” I said again, my words were thickening in my throat, “Lay back,” I instructed him and I raised his foot. I raised it and forced his knee back until he had to lean back. I raised his foot until it was level with my face. Briefly I focused my eyes onto his face.  

“Close your eyes.” My voice was turning thick. The blood was steadily dripping down the length of his slender foot, and running over my fingers. I could sense the warmth from it.  

“What are you doing?” Richard's voice was barely a whisper. His fear was now true fear. Fear of the unknown. The whites of his eyes were visible.  

I was shaking, on the cusp of desire, on the verge of letting go, giving in. It was all I could do to remain still. I brought his wound to my mouth. My tongue slid delicately over the small deep gash in the skin between the big toe and its neighbor. I tasted the sweetest blood seep out of this boy, and it heightened my thirst. I licked the fluid, all that had dripped along his foot and my fingers.  

Much like that other night, flickers of images flashed before me. I saw things from Richard's past. The most notable were his distant and faded memories of his mother, his first kiss, quick passionless sex with his girlfriend, and in stark contrast there were a cascade of images of his father, dark and intense. I shivered with unease—I knew these memories were ones that stayed with him, just under the surface.  

I sucked gently on Richard’s toes and my tongue caressed the exposed flesh of the cut. My teeth, especially my lengthening canines, brushed against his flesh yet I didn't bite. Ever so close I was to clenching my jaws down on him, but no. At first, my attention was veiled—I could only focus on my saccharine drink though after some time I was able to regain some more control.  

I made the connection with Richard's unique taste, and his haemophilia. It must be the genetic deficiency in his blood that causes such a remarkable flavour. I noticed Richard, laying in front of me with his heavy lidded eyes gazing up at me. I exerted considerable restraint and stopped drawing upon the wound and I pressed my tongue into the cut and waited. Richard squirmed a bit and seemed weak.  

When I withdrew my mouth I felt less emptiness, and yet my hunger began to retaliate. I ignored it, though it was hard to since I could feel the fresh blood inside me, so warm and so fluid. I briefly eyed the cut and saw that the bleeding had slowed sufficiently.  I lapped up the last few droplets delicately and I used my tinge to pressed the cut flesh back into place. 

“Richard.” I called softly. I set his leg down and came around to his side. He tried to follow me with his eyes, but blinked and closed his eyes.  

“What did you do?” he asked of me in a strained voice. 

“The bleeding stopped.” 

“But how?” 

I simply stared down at the boy strewn across the countertop. Thankfully it had been empty or else he would have knocked over things. His hands gripped the sides of the counter feebly and I saw he was trying to sit up.  

“No, stay still.” I said to him. I laid my hand on his chest. His heartbeat was still relatively strong.  

“It's uncomfortable.” Richard told me with a groan.  

“I'll move you.” I slid my arms underneath him and lifted. He seemed quite light. I carried him into the living room nearby. While in my arms I felt the warmth from his body tease the beast within me. He nestled against my shoulder a moment exposing his neck. I clenched my jaw, and set him down on the couch.  

“So, water isn't really your thing, is it?” 

I said nothing at first, trying to interpret his meaning. I knew that he was referring to my course of action regarding his wound. His eyes remained fixed on me, and for a moment, I could have sworn I sensed longing.  

“That's one way of putting it.” I told him finally. He looked away and stared off into space for some time. He seemed to be thinking about something a lot. 

 “So does that make you a vampire?” He asked after some silence. 

I looked at him. I didn't want to lie to him, but somehow I didn't wanted to tell him either.  

“What I am, is hard to say.”  

“That's okay, you don't have to explain or say anything. I just… I want to tell you that whatever you are, I'm not afraid of you.” He was still looking at something far off.  

“You should be.” I studied his profile, the shape of his features, the length and depth of his face. For a long time he said nothing. In fact, the silence that followed my question was longer than any other silence the two of us had endured. In that silence I began to see signs of something I was not prepared to see, let alone from this boy.  

“I have to go now.” I said, having made a decision.  

“Where?” He faced me with tired and reddened eyes.  

“I don't know, but I need to go soon. I've overstayed my welcome.”  

“Take me with you.”  

“No!” I said that word with as much power as I dared. I did not like where this was heading. I could take him with me and literally feast upon him, or I could enjoy him over time like the rarest delicacy, or I could even take him with me as a companion in the hopes that my needs and urges don't cross the point of no return. However, no matter how tempting any option may be, reason stayed me. I couldn't bring myself to do it. 

“You have too much to live for.”  I sighed wearily. 

“You don't know what I have to live for!" He shouted at me. For a split second my anger began to flare—I disliked being yelled at very much. He shot up to his feet, wavered a bit, and stormed off down the hall. As he left the room he shouted, “Go back to your precious crypt!”  

He slammed a door, the door to his room presumably. I heard him stomp around a few moments more. I began to head for the stairs; I paused to view the broken glass still on the linoleum. Then I heard a loud thud from down the hall and Richard's harsh ‘Fuck!’ I heard miscellaneous items falling to the floor. I heard him curse again. 

“You're such a clum-sy a—do—le—scent.” What began as a shout, shifted abruptly to solitary syllables as my senses flared and clouded my thoughts. I stepped down the hallway. My ears twitched in anticipation, and the hair along the back of my neck tingled. Aware of my progress, yet not, I found myself at his door.  

“Go away!" he shouted from inside the room. He sounded almost hysterical.  

I twisted the doorknob until it clicked and pushed the door inward. There on the floor, with the pants around his ankles, was Richard. He was curled up and had his hand pressed up against his cheek. The other hand was covering a spot near his left hip bone. Both hands had trickles of red between the fingers. The memory of his sweet blood pushed aside my satiated hunger: urging me to act in greed. Richard was pulling himself away from the door. He was genuinely terrified.  

“Please don't. I didn't mean to. I need help, please get help!" He was pleading. And I was kneeling a few feet away. His movements sent CD cases and other junk skittering across the floor. There was a picture frame with a young girl in it beside him. The corner of it was slightly darkened with blood. There was no glass in it, but tiny shards littered the floor and the frame itself was bent, as if something had fallen on it.  

In a flash I was at his feet. I grabbed the clothing bundled around his ankles. He had been trying to kick the pants off, but I simply yanked at them—hard. They remained caught around one foot and my forceful pull jerked Richard closer to me. He tried kicking at me and scrambling backwards. I caught a foot with each of my hands. He struggled and resisted.  

“Stop it!” He cried. I might have flinched at his words.  

I crouched over him and forced his legs to either side. I moved as close as I could, my knees pressing against his bare skin. He kicked some more. I let his struggle pull at me. He reached up to hit my face. I deftly countered, and then pushed him into the floor with a hand on his chest. My other hand I shoved his leg flat and I straddled it. I then pushed on the other leg and kept it still. The hand I kept on his chest, he was pulling and scratching at it, yet I swiftly slipped it under his shirt and pushed it back revealing his lithe torso. I was acutely aware of the blood welling up from the small wound on his side, and the trail that led down to where it began to drip on the floor.  

I was attempting, to my best ability, to restrain myself. The force was so much that I was growling low in my throat. Upon hearing this, Richard frantically grabbed at anything nearby. He threw a few cds at me, and then a book slammed into the side of my head. In a flash of anger I hauled him up by his shirt and stared into his terror stricken eyes. He froze. In that moment, my hand snaked around under his shirt and I gripped his shoulder, and I grabbed his head by the hair with my other hand.  

He screamed as my jaw closed around his throat, my teeth penetrating the skin with precision. He struggled even then, so I tightened my jugular hold and his struggle dissipated. His limbs beat limply against me. His cry turned into strange gurgling moans. I pressed his body against mine to minimize the damage his struggle could cause. It spasmed and twitched, yet I held him firmly. I drank until he fell limply in my arms. 

Then, as I cleaned him and his wounds up—predawn.

The sobering shock paralyzed me for a moment. Then as I appraised the situation and gauged the time, I panicked. I hate to admit it; so don't remind me. 

I gathered the unconscious boy into my arms and rushed downstairs. I locked my door with the boy still in my arms and I headed to the bathroom. I shut the door behind me. On a passing thought I nudged the thermostat for the bathroom up. I set Richard down into the bathtub. I shed my clothing and pushed it to the base of the door, darkening the room noticeably. In the pitch-blackness, and I slipped into the bath tub with Richard and carefully arranged our bodies to suit a restful slumber, minding his current condition. Once that was done and he and I were entangled comfortably within the embrace of the thick cast iron tub, I let the insistent fatigue wash over me.  

I fell asleep with my face resting against his neck.