This will be deleted soon - The Wrong Hope *Complete and Free*

6. Answers in Part

Sally-Anne

Year: Unknown

I had a lot of questions; truly I didn’t know where to start. Clearly he didn’t know Ricky or me, so I didn’t think it was worth asking anything too specific. I took another sip and decided to start right in front of me. I was used to glass bottles and this squishy container was confusing. Seemed an innocent and easy place to start.

“What is this?” I asked, holding out the bottle.

“Blood.” He replied simply, looking confused.

“No, the container, it’s not glass.” I stared at the bottle, turning it in my hands, waiting for an answer.

“Plastic.” He replied bemused. Weird, I thought. I was wondering about what else had changed when my thoughts circled back.

“Wait! Who’s blood is it?!” I cried, feeling alarmed.

“Not who, what; animal.” The man said with all seriousness. I felt relieved.

“Why – why do I..?” I trailed off.

“Drink blood?” He finished my question for me, I was glad I didn’t have to say it out loud, it was disgusting enough as it was. “No idea, Vamps just need it, keeps ‘em strong, go crazy without it, go long enough without they start mummifying, but you know that already Doll” He grinned.

“I can hear your heart.” I stated – struggling not to follow it up with words ‘sounds delicious’.

“Not a question, Doll.” He drawled, swigging his beer. Calling me Doll was irritating but he hadn’t offered his name nor asked mine. I figured he didn’t care. I considered telling him but worried question time would be over if he knew who had killed them. Pretty sure this mystery man considered me a ‘what’ not a ‘who’.

“What else can I do?” I said following my curiosity.

“Super fast, super strong, all the senses are heightened – hearing, taste, touch, smell sound. If you get damaged you will heal quickly.”

Thoughtfully I took a soothing gulp from the bottle.

“What can’t I do?”

“Good question.” He seemed genuinely surprised. “Let’s see,” He said to himself. “Can’t cry tears, but we covered that one, can’t sleep, can’t go in the sun, can’t enter someone’s home without invitation, can’t have kids, can’t get sick. I’m sure you’ve noticed you don’t need to breathe and your heart doesn’t beat. Won’t age either. That’s a good one; pretty and young forever.” He gave a throaty chuckle.

“I can’t die?!” I felt the horror on my face and he seemed taken aback.

“In a sense but not strictly true, just really difficult to kill.” He sucked on his cigarette waiting on me. A sharp pain ran through my gut, I gasped quietly at the unexpectedness of it and drank down more blood, instantly feeling better.

“Was I even close to dying when you found me?” My voice was grave.

“Not even close, Doll. You were just drying out, mummifying. You would have been conscious and trapped in your own body, forever as far as I know.” He said solemnly. On one hand I was relieved to have dodged that abysmal fate, on the other I ached for the retribution.

“How do you kill a vampire?” I looked right into his blue grey eyes in anticipation, ignoring the irritation flaring in my throat.

“Fire or destroy the heart and there are a couple of very effective poisons.” He said hesitantly.

“Why did you save me?”

“I told you Doll, needed to know what happened on the Brice property. Your kind aren’t usually so forth coming,” He gestured around the room “hence I thought I might need some err encouragement you might say.”

I looked around, not quite catching his drift. My throat burned a bit harder and I went to take another drink but found it empty. I ran my hand sensually down the bottle, biting my lip, desire roiling inside.

“Can I have another?” I eyed him hopefully.

“Think you can open this one yourself?” He grinned, throwing it through the air. To my amazement I caught it with great ease, it was like it slid through the air in slow motion. I opened it carefully, unscrewing the red cap easily and took a big gulp.

I pondered my next question. My skin felt uncomfortable, tight and prickly so I drank some more.

“So are you a detective?” I shot him a quizzical look.

He shook his head. “Nope. Try again Doll”

I took a moment to contemplate, taking another sip as I did. I came up blank. I fidgeted in place feeling a wave of nausea wash over me. I sighed and drank again, I could taste it now, savour it, rich, metallic and smoky sweet. Intoxicating. I wanted more.

“No guesses?” He arched his eyebrows. He was so relaxed and confident leaning back in his chair, beer in one hand cigarette in the other.

I shook my head and took another gulp.

“Vampire Hunter.” He looked at me intently, waiting for my reaction.

I felt woozy. I had finished the bottle but I didn’t ask for another and he didn’t offer.

I looked at my hands covered in fresh blood mingling with the dirt on my skin. I knew some of that dirt was dried blood, evidence of my crime. Evidence of my hideous wickedness.

“What year is it?” I picked at the dirt under my nails, refusing to look at him; scared of the answer. The suffering had been intense, the darkness all consuming. Here I am drinking blood, soothing those pains and aches, undoing the years of well deserved punishment. I didn’t deserve this reprieve, these comforts.

“1983.”

32 years and nowhere close to death, nowhere near absolution, 32 miserable years for nothing. I was angry at myself for these stolen moments. I shouldn’t have been so eager to answer his questions, if I'd stayed quiet, if I'd have waited he would have tortured me like I deserved. Maybe even killed me. I was so stupid. I took a few shaky breaths.

“Are you going to kill me?” I looked at him through my matted hair.

“What do you think?” He gave me a little nod and wiped under his nose. I looked at him confused. “You got a little something.” He lit yet another cigarette, his eyes never leaving my face.

I touched under my nose and my fingers came away with more fresh blood on them. Feeling confused I looked up at him.

“You said I couldn’t get sick?” My senses were automatically sharpening, I could feel myself becoming on high alert.

He reached into the bucket pulling up another bottle of blood and waved it gleefully. “Poisoned.” He grinned, sliding it back into the bucket.

The pain was ramping up, my gut twisted and I doubled over. My skin was blistering and my vision turned red as blood filled my eyes, and began pouring from my nose.

“High pain tolerance, I’m impressed.” He took another beer from the bucket. “Haven’t had one that wasn’t screaming by now, huh.” He raised the bottle in salutation, the scene hazy and tinged with red from the blood in my eyes.

I was going to die. At last. My blood was boiling in my veins, head pounding; I dug my fingers into the concrete leaving shallow grooves whilst swallowing back a scream. I didn’t deserve the scream. I needed to keep all the pain to myself.

I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I yelled in my head. I looked up at him watching me die.

“Come on Doll you’re spoiling it, I said none of that crying nonsense.” He slammed his beer on the table, pissed. Was he enjoying watching me die?

I gurgled blood, spitting it out to take a desperate breath, so I could speak. Just a few words, that’s all I needed.

“My,” I gasped, forcing out the words, “name’s not Doll.”

“Spit it out then.” He sniggered, taunting me.

A small cry escaped my lips, the pain curling around every nerve. He had to know, I had to tell him, I had to let it out into the universe. I wanted him to know that I truly was a monster, a daughter that killed her Ma and Pa. It wasn’t even the worst of it.

“Sss-sally-Anne Brice.” It was out, I could let go now. I leant into the pain.

“Brice? Sally-Anne Brice? You’re their f*****g daughter.” I heard the anger, the disgust in his voice and everything faded to black.