|: Cigarettes and Candy :| Carlisle Cullen Fanfiction

Did I Die?

Declan's POV.

I was crouched in a corner of an ally in Port Angeles, waiting for my chosen victim. I saw a drunken man staggering in this direction a few moments ago. I found a car parked in the ally and assumed it was his.

My plan is, to knock him out by slamming him into the wall. It won't take much to knock him unconscious with how drunk he is. Then I can drink from him and leave him next to his car.

This type of plan has worked before, and the victim doesn't usually remember what happened too clearly either. Praying on drunk people is the easiest way for me to feed.

The trip up to Port Angeles has worn me out, I hope I have the energy to fly home. I don't want to take the bus but I might need too. Hopefully after I feed I'll feel better.

I shifted slightly, getting myself in a better position to pounce. I felt the strength building in my legs as I stayed in the uncomfortable position. Watching, waiting.

I heard the man's footsteps growing closer and I reached for my switchblade so I'd be ready to go. The man's feet dragged with each step he took, and the guilt of what I'm about to do starting weighing in.

I'm going to take advantage of this drunken human like I don't even care but in fact I care very much. I feel terrible about what I have to do to survive. My heart aches for the people I've feed from without their consent.

There's always another way, my mind reminded me.

There is. There are certain people who know about my kind who are willing to be fed from. Donors, in a way. They can consent so it's really not that bad.

However, I choose to stay as hidden as possible. I don't want to risk letting a stranger in on my secret. That being said, I nearly expose myself every time I feed.

I couldn't go through with that though, could I? Having someone be fully awake and aware while I'm feeding and vulnerable, I couldn't deal with that. It's too intimate.

The man turned down and the ally way and I waited until he was no longer lit by the streetlight. When he was completely surrounded by darkness I pounced.

Pushing the man into the brick wall, I watched him crumble to the ground, unconscious. I waited for a moment, making sure he was truly out but still breathing.

Once I decided that he was going to be fine, I pulled him by the legs over to the car parked nearby. I crouched down next to his right arm and took a antibacterial wipe from my pocket and wiped his arm down.

I pulled out my knife and switched it open, bringing it down to the man's wrist I made a small cut. Not very deep but deep enough for blood to be flowing.

Checking once more to make sure the man was unconscious, I decided that it was time to feed. Leaning down, I picked up the man's wrist and brought it to my lips.

As soon and the blood touched my tongue I sucked hard, making more of the hot liquid flow into my mouth. It was sweet and thick, and it satisfied that dark part of me I couldn't run away from anymore.

I could feel my saliva thickening and it started to taste bitter as it killed all the bacteria from the man's blood. My germ killing saliva is the only thing that keeps me from getting sick after I feed, but it still tastes bad.

I drank for a few minutes, enough to satisfy me but not enough to hurt the man. Just enough blood, the drunk man won't even know what happened to him.

I pulled away just to take a quick breath then I pushed my tongue into the wound I created. This is why I have a barbed, cat like tongue. It's the best tool for getting the wound all clean and healed.