Feeding Time

Chapter Seven

Jake circles me slowly inside the van, not taking his brown eyes off of me from where I'm chained to the side of the vehicle, silently glaring at him.
"You don't need to hate me", he sighs, stopping right in front of me. He kneels down, a pistol hanging loosely in his hands. "It's your fault that we're even in this situation if you really think about it. There's no need for such a look, Theresa."
"I'm going to kill you", I hiss, jerking forward, only to be stopped by my restraints. "That's a promise, asshole."
"Language, Darling", Jake replies sweetly. "And as for your threat, I have no doubt that you'll try."
I bare my teeth in response but turn my head away, kicking the gun out of his grasp and sending it skidding across the floor.
"Do you want me to knock you out?", he asks, standing up to retrieve the weapon and strolling back over, striking me with the butt of the gun. A small trickle of blood drips down my chin, the red water staining around my teeth as I scowl at the man, arching my back as the voice awakens, begging me to kill.
Please. Kill him. It's feeding time.
"You feel it", Jake grins. "The urge. That's good. Very useful."
I kick him once more, and the weapon smacks into my mouth again. More scarlet blood dribbles down my skin, sweet and metallic against my tongue.
"What do you want with me? I know you must be dying to tell me."
"A new Dusk Killer."
"Coulda gotten the old one. She's way crazier than me."
"Au contraire, Darling", he smiles. "Morona's uh, creation used half the electricity of yours. She never fought it, but you, Cupcake, were always fighting and lucky for me, it grew so much stronger."
"Morona would have done as you asked. It's obvious who's side she's on."
"You're going to be a little different. A lot more people are going to die than when she was the Dusk Killer. Your legacy will last forever."
"I will never do what you want", I snap. "Ever."
"After a while, you won't have a choice", Jake replies calmly. "I know what happens when you go to long without feeding. Soon enough you won't be able to control your own body."
I stay silent, my mouth dropping open in horror at the thought.
"I'd rather not do that", the man tells me, staring intently into my eyes. "If you were willing to agree to do as you're told, you won't have to be chained up. What do you say?"
"I would rather die", I spit. "Rot in hell."
"I have a feeling you won't be singing that song after a few days", Jake responds as the van stops. "Ah. We're here."
That's when he brings the butt of the pistol down on my head, making everything go black.
---------
I wake up in a bed, my wrists and ankles shackled to the bedposts, with just enough chain so I can sit up, but not enough to really move.
The metal clangs together as I struggle anyway, even though I know there is no way for me to get out, but my instincts telling me to fight anyways.
After a few minutes of this, door opens, but it isn't Jake who enters the small room that now serves as my prison.
It's my father.