Sanguine

She wishes it was as simple as just not thinking about it. Calling it hunger doesn't do it justice; it's all-consuming, slowly but surely taking her over until she's more of a beast than a person. It's never quite gotten that bad before, but the fear lingers eternally in the back of her mind. The fear that one day she won't be able to control herself.

It's ironic that she's so drawn to him despite his namesake being so repulsive to her. He's so understanding, so generous. She doesn't deserve him. Most times, she doesn't even need to ask him; she thinks he can tell just by the look in her eyes, and the thought of that scares her deeply, knowing that her awful desire is so clear on her face.

One day, it was especially bad, worse than it had ever been before. It felt like she was seeing the world through a red haze, like a veil was draped over her eyes, and it took so much effort just to think about anything besides blood, blood, blood.

She could smell it, smell him, so strongly that her nostrils nearly burned. Downstairs, the nearest source. Go, find him, you need him. It felt like some unseen, unholy force was dragging her forward against her will. She didn't think she could've stopped herself if she tried.

When she saw him, he didn't even register in her mind as a person, just a vessel to be partaken from, something to satiate her thirst. Looking back on it, that was the scariest part for her, that she didn't even recognize her own little brother.

She was upon him with unnatural speed, clawing at his shoulders and sinking her fangs into his neck. He yelped in pain and alarm; he hadn't even seen her coming. What made it worse was that he didn't even try to pull her off or call her name or anything, he just sat there and endured it while she drank her fill. Euphoria flooded her brain as her infernal thirst was satiated, warm ambrosia flooding her icy veins.

The moment she was satiated enough to actually think straight, she pulled herself off of him harshly. Blood flowed from the small holes her fangs had made in his neck, his skin was paler than it should have been, and his head hung limply. For a crushing, terrifying moment, she thought she had killed him, but he still breathed. She didn't know exactly how much she had taken from him, but she knew she had gone too far. She hurt him.

She cried while she tended to his wound. And maybe he was just delirious from the blood loss, but he smiled at her. "It's okay," he said, his voice little more than a whisper. "I understand."

She asked him why he didn't try to stop her, and his answer shattered her cold, unbeating heart in two.

"Because I trusted you."

Despite everything, he trusted her. Trusted her not to kill him during a feeding frenzy. Mari felt sick to her stomach.

She shut herself in her room for the rest of that day, unable to look him in the eyes after what she had done to him. She vowed to Sunny and to herself that she would never do that again.

It gets harder to uphold that promise every day.