The fourth day, no, night…I have to stop thinking of them as days. There are no more days for me now, only nights.
Be that as it may, that evening I awoke with the usual hunger that drove me down to the kitchen. This time, however, I put on my jeans, first. I wasn’t up for another confrontation with Justin. If it happened I might let my anger out, physically, which I knew wouldn’t be my smartest move. He was much older than me and undoubtedly a hell of a lot stronger. Not that I wasn’t tempted.
I took the stairs two at a time, flung open the refrigerator to grab a blood bag, and tore into it as if I hadn’t drunk in a week. Dropping it onto the counter when it was empty, I got another one and drained it before putting both of them in the trash.
“Feeling better,” Justin asked laconically
