Human Race (Boyxboy) #1

Chapter Twelve: Where am I?

Sketch:

My first thought when I came to was why the heck would I be wearing some scratchy pajama set, on a bed that was too nice to be mine or anyone else's in the house. My body felt heavy, like a weight was tied to my arms and legs pulling me down to the sheets.

Where was Sam when you need him?

I scratched my stomach through the rough fabric, but realized half-scatch that someone changed me, and saw me naked.

I jumped high in the air when my eyes came in contact with a brown pair that scared the crap out of me. Those weren't there a second ago, but they were kind of pretty, if we were talking about eyes I mean. The rest of his face was stolid, but seemed to hold attractiveness in that emotionless look. He looked like one of those super-models I would see in the magazines when I was a kid, maybe even better than one of those people.

We just stared at each other, for a long time, may I add, until he decided to come closer.

"Are you going to drink my blood like in the movies and then do some voodoo stuff and then bring me back from the dead to just to kill me again?" I asked and the Vampire laughed, actually laughed. I thought he was trying to keep his face emotionless so he didn't come off as a predator but he didn't care to show me emotions. I wonder what other emotions he would show me.

"No little one." he chuckled standing up to fill in the space on the bed.

He picked me up bridal style before I could make a sound and carried me through the door that had been open this whole time. I laid my head on his chest, everything was spinning now that we were moving and I wasn't sure if I could keep everything down - if you catch my drift. The smell of lavender and maybe...honey filled my senses and I instantly relaxed - the smell reminding me of home.

"Time for a bath, so either you can strip or I can do it for you." He said.

"I can do it perfectly fine."

But the next thing I know I'm laid back down on the comfortable bed, dressed in a pair of black boxers, that I did not remember putting on. A blanket was placed over my body. It was warm and I was so tired. I have never felt anything as comfortable as this. Not even the bed I had at my childhood home.

My stomach growled loudly—not eating in a few days can do that. I felt him sit next to me and open my mouth pressing something to my lips. A rusty tasting substance was forced  down my throat: blood. The rustic taste made me gag but his firm hold overpowered mine so I could not spit it all out. I swallowed it, gulp by gulp until I couldn't anymore.

I was exhausted and my stomach no longer hurt and I was less queasy. Or it could be my stomach again or maybe a cold, let's hope for the latter. I hated when this happened to me, I always had to spend most of my time with Grandma, whom gave me these horrible tasting soups. But just thinking of home, eased me into my most comfortable sleep.

-

The next time I woke up I didn't feel anywhere close to one million bucks, but the total opposite. I had a killer sore throat, one that felt so bad it was bleeding. My stomach wasn't any better, and hurt just as it did before along with that queasy feeling.

I whimpered, curling into a ball as if trying to protect myself. I hated when I was sick, I mean everyone does but I had it the worst. I would always stay in bed having the worst pains in the world, my grandmother said I know how a girls feels but that didn't make any sense to me since I wasn't. The gut wrenching feeling, to the point where I wanted to puke up everything in my stomach's content. The only thing I could hold down were Grandmothers soups. I wonder if she's alive or captured but sad to say she probably wasn't living. I wonder if she would remember Sam and I, even if she did, it's not like I could see her again.