I focused on things outside of what happened and my surroundings. At some level I heard damage control with bouncers explaining to several people about the events. They played it off as unruly people high on something had caused trouble and that they had been properly handled. It probably didn't take long to quiet the tides of unrest, especially when drink prices were lowered for the rest of the night, and the music had reached a screaming flushed tempo.
I focused on the bereft feeling along the bridge of my nose where my glasses no longer were. They had probably fallen off when we- no, not thinking about that. I felt along the edges of my fingernails, scratching at the abrasive sections, trying to keep my head down and eyes closed. I have eyes, I have eyelids, I can 'look around', and I can blink. Everything works except the ability to see itself, so I just focused on keeping them closed. Maybe if I did and kept quiet, everything else would get quiet and go away too. Just leave me.
I shuddered when something big invaded my swollen personal space. A large object encroached upon me and I shrank back a little as it kept coming, eventually settling on my shoulder. The large hand was warm and swamped my shoulder. I flinched back, knocking my other shoulder into the wall behind me, eliciting a hissing grimace of pain. That was the side that 'left' had slashed before whispering in my ear... I shook my head quickly, scrunching my face up and reaching my hands up to either side of my head. I buried them into my hair, pulling at it a little as I scrunched down as best I could while sitting on the edge of a ledge, legs hanging over the side. Yes, the pain to my shoulder intensified, my eyes leaking tears. I opened my mouth; this was just too much.
***
The moment I woke, I knew I was on my back on some type of leather couch. It was supple yet not comfortable like a fabric one; almost slippery yet sticky at the same time and cool to the touch from the slightest of movements. I hated leather couches. I took my time waking up to the surprisingly quiet room. I knew I was still at the club; there was no way to hide the pulsing music even behind this really well sound-proofed room, but it worked a hell of a lot better than my own room.
My shoulder ached uncomfortably, realizing it was bandaged when my fingers lightly brushed over it. First I lost my sunglasses and felt taken without them, now I literally was naked from the waist up. My shirt was gone, just adding to the pile of shit seeming to be exponentially pushing down on me. Sighing, I ran my left dominant hand along my forehead, rubbing over my head and along my eyes. My elbow grazed against the back of the couch, so I reached out to run my hand along it, using my other hand to carefully feel the other side without wrenching my shoulder. When I felt grounded enough, I used the vertical crevice to slowly pull myself up and shift my surprisingly bare feet onto the ground, landing on cold concrete, probably, and what was probably a rug.
It took several moments before I realized that there were actually sounds in here as well. What I had thought might have been a clock of some sort was actually the sounds of someone typing on a computer. I could hear the creak of a chair as this person moved and huffed a sigh. I had turned my head partially to it, working at figuring out the placement of the room. The person was a few yards away on a swivel chair, probably at a desk to my right.
"Oh," I heard, causing me to jump. "you're awake."
I turned toward the calm smooth male voice, not feeling any animosity. My body was still on edge, cycling between defcon 1 and defcon 4. The chair shifted and groaned as the man rose and, from the sound, began walking toward me. I began quickly shifting my head, using his footsteps and what vibrations still seeped in from the club to get some idea of where I was.
There was something not far in front of me, probably a low coffee table. There was another square object to the left of the coffee table, probably another chair. There were small side tables, I think, to either side of the couch I sat on... I felt my breathing hitch then speed, unable to find the door- and he was getting closer. My eyes teared at my constant helplessness and weakness before the adrenaline spiked in fight or flight and I rushed to my left, banging into the unexpectedly extended edging that was definitely some kind of reclining chair. It caused me to stumble but thankfully catch myself on the wall. I turned quickly, back to the wall, and felt along my thigh before pulling out and lengthening my cane.
I crouched down, quickly using the cane to assess my surroundings before making a defensive stance with it. My blood flowed like a fever- the guy had been walking toward me, but had stopped. I had an idea of where he was, but the incomplete dimensions of the room confused me as to how close or far he was. I perked up when I heard him take another step, tensing. From the sound of rustling movement, he had probably raised his hands in a placating manner.
He continued forward while I gritted my teeth, "Hey, it's okay," He tried to console me before amending, "Well, what happened was not okay, but you're safe from those two now."
I heard him grab something from the coffee table- the sound of glass on glass made me thing it was a cup of some sort before I listened as something was opened and the sound of liquid filling the cup echoed in the silence . The smell of blood quickly filled the room, "Here, you look half starved. There's no way you'll heal in your condition."
I felt myself blush, but when he took several more steps in quick succession, I tried to move aside only to slip on part of the rug. In the act of trying to gain more distance, I jostled my shoulder again. The events made me dizzy as I felt my face flush yet drain of color while the rest of my body sweated while a feeling of waxy clamminess crept over it, "Woah woah woah, please don't pass out on me again."
Before I could do any more, he was there, the cane falling from my slippery limp fingers as he gently bolstered me up, "C'mon, sit down; you need to rest and drink this. Nothing will happen."
My legs were weak, an almost physical buzzing feeling leaving them nearly incapable to hold my weight, "Here, let me at least help you sit down, I don't think you could make it on your own," which resulted in the guy taking on most of my weight and sitting me back on the leather couch.
I felt like I had run to exhaustion, my legs buckling as I sat once more, my legs no longer able to hold my weight. Even if I wanted to, there was no way I could have even shifted my weight on the couch. The damn leather seemed to snicker at my incapability, squeaking irritably. I could do no more than lay back, fear and determination warring with each other.
The smell of blood strengthened as I heard him lean closer, "I suggest you drink this before you're tethered by pure instinct. I'd rather that not happen, considering I'm locked in this room with you at the moment."
I took my time, considering where the glass was, before reaching out my hand for it. I needed it, and the idea that there could be more than merely blood within the cup didn't matter to me at this point. He was right that there was a very limited amount of time left before I was beyond conscious thought and instinct truly took over. I've never actually crossed that line; close, but not over. Just reaching that point is dangerous for one's health. More than likely, when consciousness is regained, a dead body would be nearby, and then a one way trip to the council.
I shuddered in equal parts hunger and fear as I knocked my fingers into the glass, sliding my fingers until it was tightly gripped in my tumbling fingers. I tried not to fall into that feeding trance that occurs with underfed vampires, but it was hard not to drown myself in something that made me feel so much better. I couldn't stop myself from gulping it down, even while listening to the sickening sounds I made. It was embarrassing, but I really couldn't help it. What he had given me, while not fresh from a vein, was several steps up from the blood supplement I had been mostly subsisting on for the last few months.
It was just so good, and while it was still not enough, I could feel myself starting to heal once more. I must have been really near the edge; dangerously close. I sighed after finishing the glass, licking my lips slowly to savor one of the best meals I've had in a while.
"Would you like another glass?" I jumped at the sound of his voice, having totally forgotten his presence while in that trance-like state. I hesitated, unsure of how I should answer before I felt the glass slowly being lifted from my hand and being filled once more.
"Here, it's the least I can do considering what happened in my club," He placed the glass against the back of my fingers, allowing me to grasp and drink once more. The second glass made me comfortably full and sleepy, having been unable to refuse my growling stomach. I could feel my face flushing.
"Better?" The man asked, his voice seeming to hide a smile within it's deep depths.
I nodded hesitantly, smothering a yawn with my uninjured shoulder.
I heard as he hesitated, listening to him shift from one foot to another before settling himself onto one of the chairs perpendicular to the couch and to either side of the coffee table. He took a moment to lean forward, resting his elbows on his legs before lacing his fingers , "May I ask you a question?"
I shifted my head toward him, neither acknowledging nor refusing him. He was my savior, but he could also be my executioner, and I didn't want to take the chance of showing my hand, no matter how content and tired I was.
I hesitated at the simple question, unsure of what he would then ask, my fuzzy brain only supplying a slew of emotions; apprehensive of what this would mean for me. Should I answer? But... What difference would it make? No matter what, I was here, caught in this room still unable to find the door out to the rest of the club. And even if I were to, would it even be unlocked? Even with the blood, there was no way I would be able to take on someone that sounded like him- strong, confident and in charge. In the end, I just sat there, unmoving. I am still so damn weak.
He had given me several moments to answer before he asked, "You're... blind, right?"
Well, that wasn't as frightening as he thought, right? Or was it more dangerous of a question than it seemed. And, as the club owner, just what is going on?
If you have anything you want to have me add in or consider, feel free to comment etc. Any critiques are appreciated, though it would be nice if they were thoughtful.