The Forbidden Beta

Chapter 11: Blood Pills

Cana P.O.V

After a long and arduous day, we all wearily made our way to our respective rooms to freshen up before finally congregating at the dinner table. The atmosphere was serene and tranquil, with the only audible sound being the gentle clinking of cutlery and glasses. As we settled into our seats and began to enjoy our meal, I couldn't help but feel grateful for the sense of calm that had descended upon us. It was a much-needed respite from the chaos of the day and a reminder that sometimes, the simplest moments can bring the greatest peace. My father poured himself a glass of his favorite whiskey and relished every sip of it. His face was aglow with pure contentment, and we could sense that he was thoroughly enjoying the moment. The tantalizing aroma of the food wafted through the air, filling the room with an irresistible scent that made our mouths water.

As my father reached for his cutlery, I noticed his hand covering something small and round on the table in front of him. My curiosity was immediately piqued, and I couldn't help but wonder what it could possibly be. Just then, he looked up at me, his eyes twinkling with excitement, and slid his hand over to me, still concealing the mysterious object. "Here you go," he said, his voice laced with anticipation. As I reached out to take whatever it was that he was offering, I felt the cool metal of the object beneath his hand. It was small and round, and as I held it in my hand, I couldn't help but marvel at its weight and texture. The anticipation and excitement of what the object could be filled me with an inexplicable sense of joy, and I couldn't wait to uncover its secrets. As I turned the object over in my hand, I noticed intricate engravings etched into the metal, adding to the mystery of what it could be. I was overwhelmed with curiosity, and couldn't resist asking my father what it was. "It's a family heirloom," he said, his voice filled with pride. "I wanted you to have it before your birthday so that you could cherish it for years to come." I was touched by his gesture, and couldn't wait to learn more about this precious family treasure.

However, my excitement was short-lived as my father's voice interrupted my thoughts. "That is your blood pills," he said, his tone serious. "It will help you with the craving for blood." My heart sank as I realized that the object was not a gift but a necessary medication. I felt a sense of disappointment and resignation in place of the initial rush of excitement and anticipation that had filled me just moments earlier. I slowly popped the object open and saw a handful of small red pills inside, their appearance unremarkable and mundane. My disappointment was palpable, but I knew that I needed to take the pills to manage my thirst for blood. The realization that I was different from everyone else hit me hard, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of isolation and alienation. The weight of my condition bore down on me, and I couldn't help but wonder why I had to be the one to bear this burden. However, I knew that I had to accept it and find a way to live with it.

"You will see there are six blood pills, one for each day," my father said, his voice calm and reassuring. As my mother started dishing up the food, she began at my father's side of the table. I watched with a mixture of hunger and apprehension as she expertly spooned out portions of the delicious-smelling food onto his plate. The aroma of the food was intoxicating, and my stomach growled in anticipation. However, as she reached my side of the table, I was hit with a sudden and overpowering smell of blood and iron. It was so strong that I could almost taste it on my tongue. My heart raced as I realized that I was the only one at the table who could smell the blood and that my mother had given me a piece of meat that was not cooked. The raw meat looked almost alive, and I could see the blood still dripping out of it, forming a small pool on my plate.

Before I knew it, I was eating the raw piece of meat that my mother had placed on my plate. The blood was dripping all over the table and my clothes, but I couldn't stop myself. With each bite I took, more blood ran over my lips and down my chin. I felt like an animal, unable to control my primal instincts. The metallic taste of the blood filled my mouth, and I found myself craving more. I wanted to get rid of the blood craving that I didn't even know I had, and raw meat seemed to be the only thing that could satisfy it. However, as I continued eating, I realized that I was making a mess of myself and the table. The blood was everywhere. It dripped onto my clothes, staining them with deep, red splotches that seemed almost impossible to remove. The table was also a mess, with blood pooling in small puddles and streaks all over the surface. I felt a sense of shame wash over me as I realized that I had lost control and that my primal instincts had taken over. I knew that I had to stop before things got out of hand, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. The blood was too tempting, too alluring, and I found myself unable to resist its pull.

As the blood stopped dripping out of the raw meat, I started sucking it to get more blood out. I could feel the metallic taste of the blood filling my mouth, and I couldn't help but crave more. My sister just stared at me, clearly uncomfortable with what she was seeing. I noticed the worry etched on her face and decided to lighten the mood with a joke. "After this, you're next," I said with a grin as I waved the raw meat around. Despite my attempt at humor, my sister's expression turned to one of fear as she quickly looked over at my father. I could see the concern in his eyes as he tried to reassure her. "She's just kidding," he said with a laugh, trying to ease her worries.

"Because tomorrow is your birthday, everything will start to happen. Your hearing will improve, your sense of smell will get stronger, and your strength will improve. But with these changes come new challenges, and if something doesn't feel right, just ask me so we can help you," my father said, his voice laced with worry. I could see the concern etched on his face as he spoke, and I could feel the weight of his words settling heavily on my shoulders. The thought of turning into a werewolf was both exhilarating and terrifying. I didn't know what to expect, but I knew that I had to trust my father to guide me through this process. As I looked around the table, I could see the worry in my family's eyes. They were all trying to hide it, but I could feel their fear.