5/31/2020 - Based on a random dream I had where a girl was visited by a man each night, who clearly cared for her but couldn't say why. Inspiration from Vampire Diaries.
Day 100
He had left her alone for a week. And then one night, she woke up to a hand caressing her hair. At first, she didn't move. Part of her didn't want him to leave, because she knew as soon as her eyes opened he would be gone. After a few minutes, the hand stopped, and he was gone. He had left her 100 small vials of the thick liquid in her bathroom. A choice.
Today was supposed to be the last day, if she had followed instructions. By this point, she had not taken a single drop of the blood for months. All of the memories that had been disappearing have reappeared with great detail. She would constantly replay them, reevaluate them. She understood why he did what he did. All of the actions that he took, she probably would have done the same thing.
It was hard to understand exactly what he was and how he operated. How he appeared to her might not be the same way he appears to others. But from the argument that they had so many nights ago, he didn't seem to be a bad person. Combined with the memories they shared, it was hard to see him as the bad guy.
One of the vials twirled between her fingers. They were placed on the bathroom counter, compartmentalized in their own little holders. For the longest time, she acted as if they never existed. Now, she was sitting on the bathroom floor, staring at one. It would be easier to take them and forget everything he wanted her to. Sometimes, she wished she could force them all down her throat at once and never look back.
Her fist curled around the small bottle. A sharp piece of anger cut through her chest. This was also the man that willingly forced her car to crash. His group - whoever they were - feasted on her family. The fire was their cover up, and who knows how many more there were. When he left her alone, did he grab a snack from her aunt? Or did he really try to save them? The laughter from that night pierced her ears, and with a scream, she threw the vial against the wall.
The glass shattered everywhere, even sliding back towards her legs. A piece scraped against her. Blood softly trickled down the side of her leg and down from the wall. It looked like someone took a glob of dark red paint and threw it hard against her bathroom. With her head in her hands, she didn't move. Heat radiated off her face and in any second, tears were going to fall just like the blood.
"You're bleeding."
She barely even twitched. She was so used to his frequent appearances, that she completely forgot this wasn't one. As she stayed curled in her position, he began to clean the shattered pieces on the floor. Each time he passed by, a fresh aroma of mint went with him. He seemed to know where everything was; right down to the cleaning supplies in the closet near the kitchen. She wondered if she really did have all of her memories back.
As he finished up, her gaze was directly on him now. He was dressed neatly, but his eyes were the complete opposite. They were sunken in and exhausted, dully moving from her to the now-cleaned mess. "Are you not speaking with me?"
"What do you want me to say?"
At this, he did not respond. He turned back to the blood and scrubbed harder. There was a large stain on the wall that did not seem like it was gonna come out any time soon. Part of her felt bad he was cleaning her mess, but she made no move to get up. When he finished, he crouched down to her side. The blood was trickling down her leg, leaving small droplets on the floor.
"Can I clean that for you?" Celestina ignored him, staring down at her palms. He stood up and he swore under his breath. He took a minute at the sink, collected some items, and sat down next to her. Even with the amount of anger he had stirring around, he gently took her leg and laid it flat. He cleaned up the excess amount of blood with an antibacterial wipe and tossed it in the trash. "This might burn a little."
It did burn, but she didn't dare move. She watched his gentle hands move slowly to cover up the small wound. He didn't seem affected by the blood. She couldn't think of anything more ironic. "Does the smell bother you?"
"Most blood does not have a smell." He threw a piece of the bandage away. "Besides, I've drank yours before."
Bewildered, her leg jerked backwards. His annoyed gaze flickered up to hers. "What?"
"Willingly. You let me." His lips turned upwards for a second. "Encouraged, even."
So all of the memories have not resurfaced yet. Or he has been coming to see her, and erasing her mind each time. She wasn't sure which one was worse. "Why did you come here, Wesley?"
Again, he gently pushed her leg back down to finish up. "I don't really know." At this, she stared directly at him. There was so much anger she couldn't even use her voice. Her leg wound was finally dressed. He ended up staying in the close position he was, staring right back at her. The wall didn't look as bad as she originally thought. It was so clean he almost erased any traces of her fit of frustration. "I left those for you in case you wanted to forget."
Her eyes hovered over the remaining 99 bottles on her bathroom counter. It's been a never ending battle with them each time she enters her bathroom. "I don't think I want to."
Wesley's fingers traced over the bandage he placed on her leg. "Why not?"
"You said you didn't know the plan. Were you telling the truth?"
"They didn't tell me because they knew I wouldn't have gone." His fingers stopped dancing. "As soon as I realized what they were doing I tried to save everyone in that car." The fingers pressed hard into her warm skin. "I was very late."
Celestina brushed over his fingers with her own. The grip on her leg tightened, as if he weren't expecting her to come so close. "I don't know if I ever thanked you, but - thank you. For saving me. And trying for my family."
He blew out a breath, his shoulders sagging with it. "You don't need to thank me."
She shifted to directly face him. His hand moved with her leg, refusing to let go. He seemed so exhausted, as if he were also fighting his own battles too. "Did you come here to stay or say goodbye?"
This question made him squirm. "What do you want me to do?"
"Stay."
"Celestina," He sighed, removing his hand to rub it against his face, "this isn't going to work. I'm not a normal person - I'm not healthy for you. None of this was a good idea. I went about this poorly and - "
"Stop." Her voice was so calm and collected that his voice died in his mouth. "I want you to stay." Before he could protest, she stood upwards. She reached her hand, wiggling it gently as motion to grab it. Without a sound, he did exactly that. They moved to her bed and almost immediately she felt sleep tugging at her eyes. She was too comfortable around him. To make sure he didn't leave, she wrapped her hand around his arm for good measure. "We can talk about it in the morning, okay?"
Wesley shook his head on the pillow. "No, we can't Celestina. We can't do this."
"We have been doing it. And it's been fine."
"No! It hasn't been fine!" He squeezed his hand so tightly over hers that she thought she was going to lose circulation. "I have been nothing but issues for your life. I cannot keep doing this to you, no matter how selfish we want to be."
"There was one issue, and you tried to solve it." Her eyes opened wide, to show how tired she truly was. "That's all that matters to me."
"There's so much more than just that and you know it."
"And so we'll discuss it in the morning."
She didn't hear him respond - but she also didn't hear a protest, either. She allowed herself to sink into the bed, her grip on his hand relaxing as well. Wesley stayed still for a few moments, and then began to stroke her hair as he always does. He knew that he couldn't wait till morning to discuss what he wanted. He knew that if he did, he would break. As she started to fall into a deeper sleep, he snaked his other hand away from her. He reached upwards to place a lingering kiss on her forehead. The urge to wake her up to say goodbye stayed locked away in his heart. His lips hovered over her ear as he murmured the last words in her ears:
"Forget."
Night 30
She never questioned it.
Each time he visited, she had the same reaction. Comfortable. She felt comfortable with him, and wasn't sure why. She didn't understand why he came every night, why she needed to drink the strange liquid he gave her in a vile, or why she did feel comfortable with him. There wasn't any conversation. He would appear in her bedroom, hand her the liquid, and she would take it as if it were a shot of tequila. Sometimes, he would linger. As if he wanted to say something but couldn't. And then she would blink, and he would be gone. As if he were never there to begin with, and she imagined the entire thing. Sometimes, she wondered if her mind actually was making the entire thing up, and should re-evaluate her mental health.
Her aunt, and two younger cousins died a month ago in a car accident. It was a gruesome event; the car caught fire after swerving off the road and down rocky hills deep into the forest. The bodies were burned so badly it was almost too difficult to identify them. She officially had no family left - she was an only child, and both her parents passed due to health issues. It was the most traumatic experience of her life. She felt so much pain and anger - it was as if she was there the entire time, witnessing what had happened.
Ever since the day she found out, he visited her. It was like she knew that he was supposed to, and it was a daily event that needed to occur. She didn't question how he got there, who he was, why he was there. She felt comfortable and safe - and that was all she needed, apparently.
The steam followed her as she stepped out of the shower. With her hair up, she quickly got into pajamas. He would relatively come around the same time each night, with some variation. She peered into her bedroom, scanning for any sense of the man. He wasn't there.
She headed over to her dresser to grab the remote for the television. That was how she found out about the car accident. That morning, she turned it on and it was the headline of the local news. The worst thing someone could possibly wake up to. She turned the TV on, flicked to a random channel, and turned to toss the remote onto her bed.
The man caught it instantly.
She gasped, throwing her hands to her face. "I'm sorry," She blurted, the first words she has ever said to him before. He appeared slightly amused. He changed the channel to the History channel, something more his taste. He was sitting on the edge of her bed, legs crossed, leaning back slightly. As they finished their staring contest, he reached into his pocket for a thumb-sized bottle. It reminded her of the ones in the story Alice in Wonderland, with the small label that said 'drink me'.
"Here."
She continued to stare for a while, as his hand was frozen in the air around them. She did not reach out to take the vile. He waited patiently and didn't move an inch. Her eyes went back and forth, from the bottle, to his passive face. She knew that she needed to drink it, show him that she did, and then he would disappear. Slowly, she shook her head.
"No."
More time passed between the pair. Eventually, he dropped his arm to his side. She was waiting for a reaction, but he barely blinked. To protest even further, she crossed her arms. Again, no reaction. Maybe it didn't matter that she wouldn't take whatever dark red liquid was swimming in that small container.
"If you don't drink this, I will shove it down your throat."
She was so taken aback she almost stumbled into her dresser. The voice that came out of the man was not the normal soft tone. It was loud, strict - angry. She had two choices - swallow the tart liquid like she always did or question even further.
"Why?"
A long, deep sigh fell through his nostrils. He fell backwards to lie on her bed. Even though he was only on the edge, he took up a good amount of space. "I knew this was coming."
"Do you not want to tell me?"
"No, not really."
She took a small step closer. She still had that safe feeling, even though he was not resembling it. "Can you tell me who you are, then?"
"Wes. Wesley."
"I'm - "
"Celestina, I'm aware." He jolted his hand up into the air, still lying on the bed. His eyes were closed. "Can you take this now, please?"
"What happens if I don't?" Another step. "Will I die?"
"Something like that, yes."
She stopped moving. "Is that medicine?"
"Sort of." With his weirdly non-human speed, he was in front of her face before she could blink. The bottle separated the space between their faces. "Are you going to willingly or unwillingly take this?"
"I want to know why I have to take it at all."
He sighed again, and dropped the bottle back down to his side. "It's keeping you...healthy. You need to take it for 100 days. If you don't you'll...deteriorate."
She was mesmerized by his answers. "And why can't I get this from a hospital?"
"It's rare. Hospitals don't have this."
"Are you a doctor?"
"No."
"What are you?"
Pain finally developed across his face. "Just take this. Please."
"I don't want you to leave yet."
"What?"
She faltered. She didn't mean to say that aloud. The pain in his eyes dissipated into amusement again. "I mean - you always leave. Right after I take it. I just...it would be nice if you stayed." She felt stupid immediately after she said it. She should be freaking out, calling the police. Yet here she is, day thirty, and she's asking for this strange man to stay with her.
She shook her head, grabbing the bottle out of his hands, and tossed it in her mouth. The liquid always had a strange thickness to it, and tasted faintly metallic. It clung to the corners of her throat, reminding her to drink water as soon as possible. She pushed passed him and entered her bathroom to get a swig from the sink. She expected him to have vanished by the time she got back to her room. He was still in the same spot she left him, the smallest smile on his face.
"I'll think about it."
And then he was gone.
Day 71
You were never at that accident.
Coughing, Celestina fumbled awake. It was another - rather, the last - piece of the puzzle she has been trying to solve for a few weeks now. Every day Wesley came to visit her, she would take her medicine; and throw it away. She had developed his trust, and with that, ways to make it seem like she was swallowing the liquid.
She knew it was blood. His blood, in fact. That was one of the easier parts to figure out. As she continued to not swallow the liquid, she realized she wasn't sick. Nothing was wrong with her. In fact, memories started to come back to her that she didn't know she had. Every day, she would have a dream about it.
Wesley saved her from the car crash. He somehow erased her memory to save her from the pain, and made her believe she was never even there. As she mulled over how, the only plausible explanation was the blood. His blood. It was erasing the memories. She even was regaining memories that had nothing to do with the accident. Conversations they've had, dinners they've been on, kisses they've shared. He was erasing her feelings for him.
But why?
He hasn't come yet tonight. She turned on the light and scanned the room, looking for any activity that he had been here. There was nothing. Her phone flashed 3:14AM, one of the latest times she's ever had to wait for him. It's like he knew she wanted to confront him about everything tonight, and was avoiding her. For all she knew, he just might.
"Celestina?"
She turned, squinting into the dark. The curtain was waving in the wind, and next to it was a figure of a man. "Wesley?"
Within a second, he was on her bed and caressing her arm. That usual comfortable feeling overtook her, and she knew why he gave off that presence now. The memories drifted over her as if she were looking down from an airplane. They were so far away from her, and so very faint. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"
It's easier to just lie and ignore it. But every nerve in her body was pushing for her to reveal what she knew. Would he just erase her memory of all of it? It was a risk she was willing to take. "I know."
His grip on her arm tugged gently. She went the opposite way of his pull, going to turn on her light. Wesley stayed put on the bed, confusion clear on his face. "Know what, Celestina?"
From the tone of his voice, it sounded like he knew everything. He wanted to hear her say it. "I stopped drinking your blood, Wesley. My memories - all of them - they started to come back to me. I'm not sick, am I? Your blood is erasing my memories, aren't they? You saved me from that car accident. Why are you doing this?" By the end of it, her voice became a high-pitched shriek. Her arms flared around, the words bouncing off her chest without control. "You've had dinner with me, Wesley! We've done things in that fucking bed you're sitting in - I just - I don't understand - "
She steadied herself by putting her arm on the wall. Her weight felt light and the room started to dip. The anxiety was built up so badly and she didn't even realize it. Wesley sat frozen on her bed, big eyes pouring into hers. It was clear that he had regretted his actions, but she wasn't sure what actions those were. It didn't matter; she had said what she wanted. She just needed to wait for his response.
There wasn't one.
He simply sat there, eyes wide, unmoving. The tension unnerved her because it was nothing like she had felt with him before. She almost wanted to cringe from the silence. There was something that she was missing, and she couldn't figure out what it was. It needed to come from him; but from the looks of it, he was planning on something completely different.
"You're correct." The words came out slowly, as if the language was new to him. "You drank my blood to heal yourself that night. To erase your memory now....it becomes difficult. I need to continue to give it to you for it to be permanent."
"For 100 days."
"Yes, around there." Wesley rubbed his neck, wanting to get off the bed and get closer to her. "You have made that choice...difficult for me."
"Why? You don't want me to know you saved me because of what you are?" She took a teensy step closer, and it made him snap his eyes to her feet. She stopped, not wanting to cause more uneasiness. "I'm not stupid. I get it. And it's not like anyone would ever believe me."
"That's only part of it."
Dread hung off the sentence and danced around her ears. She was missing a piece of the puzzle. He took a breath in through his nose, letting it fall out from his lips. "The group I was a part of - they - we - caused that accident."
The tension of the room dropped. Almost immediately, tears started to form in the corners of her eyes. The same pain she felt the night they died started to bubble upwards. She forced it down, needing more of an explanation. "We were your prey for the night - is that it?"
At this point, he got off the bed, desperate to hold her. "Celestina, I don't kill people. That was never my intention. My group, however, they - they didn't tell me the plan. I had no idea - I tried to save them, Cel, I really did - "
"Did you cause the car accident?"
"They told me it was going to - "
"Did you cause the accident, Wesley!?"
"Yes. I did."
A whale of pain escaped her lips. Wesley winced as she tore away from him, running to the other side of the room. She couldn't even look at him anymore. The protests that left his mouth fell on deaf ears. All she could hear was her own sobs of pure torment. He was at her side, arms around her shoulders. She didn't even realize she had collapsed onto the floor.
"NO - Wesley leave. Now! Never come back!" She ripped away from his grasp as if he were burning metal. The horror on his face almost made her recoil the words, but she bit her tongue. "Get out."
For a second, Wesley stared at her face. She couldn't tilt her head upwards to look at him. Seeing the pain on his face would have made her change her mind. The tear that slipped down his face landed on her knee. Her head snapped upwards, but he was already gone.
Day 53
She never slept in the middle of the bed. Even though she was alone, she slept on the left side of the bed, near the light. It was nearing midnight, and Wesley hadn't shown up all night. She recounted the days, made sure her window was open, and paced the floors. No sign of him at all. She felt like she was stood up for a date; when in reality, it wasn't one at all.
Celestina eventually decided to just go to bed. It was a long day at work, and there was another one waiting for her tomorrow. She changed in a pair of light pajamas, as it was getting hot outside. She wanted to close the window so that the hot air wouldn't seep in, but she decided against it. Just in case.
Stay here.
She gasped, eyelids flying open. The voice - Wesley's voice - was fresh in her mind. She was in a forest, but it was nighttime. She couldn't see anything. She turned her head to grab her phone and look at the time. 2:48AM. Running a hand over her face, she relaxed back into the pillows. It was only a dream, but she felt like...she was there. She turned to the opposite side. A hand ran smoothly over her hair, making her feel instantly more tired.
It wasn't her own hand.
For the second time that night, she jumped awake. Wesley was inches away from her, a blank expression to match her horrified one. Her body relaxed when she realized it was only him. Anger settled into her features. "You're late."
At this, he cracked a smile. "I'm sorry, Celestina."
"Why are you so late?"
"I was..." He winced. "Working."
"I don't believe you." She snuggled closer to her pillow, refusing to meet his eyes. "Were you with someone?"
"Coworkers."
"You've never worked this late before." She paused. "It's Friday night..."
"So?"
"Friday night...almost 3AM..." She breathed in deeply, looking to smell perfume, or alcohol. All she got was a clean breath of mint. "Nevermind."
The pair laid in silence for a few moments. She was glad it was dark, because she felt heat rushing to her face. Wesley started to laugh so hard, he rolled over to his side. It would have been a nice sound if she weren't so embarrassed. "Do you think I was with a girl?" She refused to answer, only causing him to laugh harder. "Are you jealous?"
"No."
She sat upwards, sleepiness nonexistent now. He continued to laugh, laid back with his arms behind his head. With the only light coming from her open window, it was tough to see him clearly. "I won't leave until morning, how does that sound?"
"Guilty."
He sat up, hiding his flattered smile. He shook the tiny bottle that she didn't realize was in his hands and held it out to her. She stared at it for a few seconds, debating to protest like she did a few weeks ago. Deciding against it, she drained the contents between her lips. She placed the bottle on her nightstand. "Are you tired?"
"Exhausted," He replied, closing his eyes for emphasis. "I don't understand why you're so jealous."
He wasn't going to let it go, was he? "I'm not jealous. I was confused."
"I don't get jealous when you invite that co-worker of yours over constantly. What is it, Jared-or-something?"
At that, her lips clamped together. If it weren't for the dark, he could see shock slam across her features. Josh wasn't constantly here - and besides, he was only a friend. He hasn't ever attempted to make a move on her...most likely because he was too afraid to do so. "How do you know him?"
"I don't."
"Then how do you know he visits?"
"Because I always visit. Every night, Cel."
The thought of him patiently waiting in her bedroom while she shared a glass of wine with Josh in the other room made her cheeks burn. How long would he wait? What would he do? Go through her private things? Her cheeks burned brighter.
"After 100 days, are you going to stop visiting?" Silence only followed. The air felt uncomfortable, and she immediately regretted asking the question at all. It was clear what his answer was. She would never see him again on the 100th day. She felt so betrayed that maybe she would rather have it be that way. "I see."
Celestina crossed her room to retrieve a bottle of water that was perched on top of her dresser. Suddenly she didn't want him to stay the night. She no longer wanted to stomach the liquid any longer. So what if it made her sick? There was no proof it was even doing anything to help her. Not only that, but this was a strange man mysteriously entering her apartment every night. Well, she knew how - through the opened window she left for him - but where was he coming from? And why was he able to move with speed she couldn't understand?
The water bottle whined as she emptied the last drop. Blinking out of her thoughts, she turned to throw it in the nearby trash can. Wesley was inches away from her. Gasping, she accidentally threw herself against the wood of the dresser that was behind her. He gently took the now-crushed water-bottle from her hands, tossing it into the garbage with ease. "You seemed like you answered your own question."
Not allowing his closeness to intimidate her, she lifted her chin. "I did." She also decided that she was going to stop taking whatever liquid was in the bottle every night. Sense was starting to come back to her mind. None of this should be happening.
As she was scolding herself, he was busy weaving his hand between hers. It was almost impossible to hate; he always had this calming atmosphere about him. "You should have let me answer." The other hand worked its way down to the corner of her side. She jerked upright, not prepared for his warm touch.
"Give me an answer, then." The words did not come out how she wanted them to. It came out in a breathless gasp, rather than a demanding statement. He was slowly dancing back to her bed in the darkness. Her heart, for some reason, matched the pace.
They hadn't even made it halfway towards her bed before he spoke. He spun her in a small twirl, and when she came back around, she was basically wrapped in his arms. "I never want to stop visiting." A gentle kiss was placed on her lips, dancing comfortably just as they were before.
He pressed firmer, with more hunger than she thought he had within him. She overcame the shock relatively quickly and managed to remove one of her hands to weave through his hair. As she tugged slightly, he made a noise against her. She felt herself leave the floor for a mere second. The bed cushioned her fall and Wesley was on top of her immediately. He placed strong kisses on her collarbone, leading up to her lips. She gasped, waiting for the touch, but nothing happened. As she opened her eyes, Wesley's own pair bore into hers.
"But I have to. Please forget, Celestina."
Night 1
"Stay here."
Before she could even say a word, he was deep into the rough corners of the thick forest. It was dark and she couldn't see which direction he took off in. She tried to look for the light of the car, but he took her so far off she couldn't make it out. Despite the sharp air that was slicing her skin, she was panting. Sweat dripped off every inch of her body as she tried to catch her breath. She wanted to help - but she felt so tired.
She realized she was sitting in the grass. Slowly, she raised herself - almost falling twice. Blood loss was not something that was on her mind at the moment. Flashes of family member's faces. The impact of the car lurching violently to the side of the forest with no physically-sound reasoning. It felt like the car fell and fell and fell. As if it were a slow motion dream, falling down a flight of stairs. Getting hit again and again and again.
The world was twirling softly like a ballerina. Her hands went out to steady herself; she ended up on the grass again. She was determined to walk and find the car. As she got up again, the world was still against her. Blindly, she walked towards a random direction. Trees held their branches out for her steadiness. A thunderous explosion to her right made her jump - and fall again.
The light she was looking for erupted into the sky, shoving it's way past the treetops. It was as if a bomb exploded. The location was too far away to walk. She heard screams and...laughter? At this point she was desperate. She began to crawl towards the direction of the fire that was still making horrific noises. Something wasn't right.
"We need to get you home."
The voice of the man was directly next to her again. She almost entirely forgot about him. His face was bright in the reflection of the fire. She shook her head, shakily pointing to the area he just came from. "My family..."
He softly inspected the injuries that were in various places on her body. Concern washed over his face, but she was fixated on the fire. "You're too hurt to move. You need..." He trailed off, watching her face intently. After a second of long hesitation, he lifted his wrist and tore into it with his teeth. Blood leaked outwards and messily onto the floor. This was enough to tear her away from the view. She was so disoriented she thought she had imagined it.
"W-what are you doing?"
"Drink this. Please."
Her eyes widened, watching the blood continue to drip off his arm. The tone in his voice was unwavering; but it was deathly serious. "I'm not gonna...my family is..."
"Celestina, drink until I tell you to stop."
Immediately, she lifted his arm and swallowed the liquid.
"Stop. Forget."
More laughter came from that same direction. Wicked, amused laughter. She couldn't make any sense of it. Along with the dizziness, pain started to pound against her head. She didn't realize she felt somewhat better, but not fully. "We need to get you home." The repetition was calm and covered. "I'm going to carry you, is that okay?"
She shook her head, the world going blurry. " No...nonono...my family - I need to - "
"Celestina," His voice cracked, the only scent of worry he showed, "please."
Tears began to pool around her eyelids. His stare was forced down to the murch they were resting in. "What happened?"
"Celestina - "
"They died." She grabbed his hand, forcing the stare back to hers. "They died, didn't they?" As his eyes bore into hers, the pain transferred as well. She collapsed into his hold. The wails of pain covered the screams of laughter that were miles deep into the forest. As the fire burned brighter, the aching in her heart ignited. He held her tightly for a second - and then picked her up to begin walking.
She screamed the entire way, grasping her hands out towards the fire. Her entire body succumbed to the pain destroying her mind. She couldn't feel the injuries from the car accident anymore. The man winced each time a new earth-shattering sob met his ears. "MY FAMILY - NO - PLEASE NOT THEM - PLEASE...."
The girl wrapped herself around the man carrying her. She couldn't suppress the moans of suffering. Even now, the world spun as if she were free falling. She squeezed her eyes shut, grasping the man so hard her nails were digging into his skin. She wanted the dizziness to stop, but it only got worse. Her sense of environment was out of touch, and did not realize how quickly they got back to her condo. Or the fact that he knew where it was. She was placed down on the top of her bed, his arms still cradling her. They stayed in the same position until she was able to speak. Confusion took the place of hurt - she had no idea who this person was.
"Why am I not in a hospital?"
With the last piece of hair out of her face, he pressed his hand against her chin. The drained eyes met an evenly matched pair. "Celestina, you were never at that accident. You will forget all of this - you will learn your family members died in a car accident tomorrow...I will visit you every night briefly, to restore your health with my blood. You'll be okay."
______________________
Hey there, you come here often?
Wow. I'm feeling lots of emotions posting this teeny weeny thing right here. I hope you all will enjoy it. I am gonna try to write more in 2021 (I know you've all heard that from me for about three years in a row now, and nothing ever happens). But, I think this year will be different. I think its gonna be good. More productive, more positivity, more proud emotions. Starting with this one.
-MAD