Repossession

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πŸ“… Published on June 7, 2013

"Repossession"

Written by

Estimated reading time β€” 2 minutes

I can clearly make out a hospital ward. It’s probably mine, since I’m in its bed. It’s a private room, and my low bed faces the wall. I see no windows. I turn my head–wait. I suddenly notice restraints digging into my arms, legs, across my chest, and fixing my head into place.

I realize that I can’t remember anything. I don’t know why I’m tied up. Though I’m not sure if it’s a good idea to, but I strain at my bonds, making a futile effort to get free. No matter. A doctor or nurse will come eventually. I’ll ask them why I’m tied up like this. There’s probably a good reason for whatever is happening. I wait.

I don’t think whoever I was had been especially good at sitting around and waiting. I feel a fear within me, as if it were inherent. It’s a fear of where I am, of what’s going to happen, of who I am. My breathing slowly becomes more erratic, the uneven hissing of my breath becoming louder and louder until all I can hear is the whistle of air entering and escaping my lungs.

I lie there, and wait, my fear growing with every passing moment.

I hear the swish of air from a door swinging open behind me. I should have felt relief as I heard the footsteps of one entering the room, yet I couldn’t. Instead, my feeling of dread heightened to one of raw terror. My heart jackhammered, and I felt a clammy, cold sweat begin to trickle down my forehead. I struggled, my whole body undulating under the thick straps fettering me. The bed barely budged. I was completely trapped.

The reason for my hysteria, whatever it was behind me, walked with the rhythmic, clicking footsteps of an average man. What set me off was its breathing. Its breaths were the scratchy growls of a crazed animal, intermingled with a laboured panting, as if it were holding itself back from something.

Or someone.

I strain even harder, pulling every muscle in my body. The veins in my neck bulge, my eyes pop. Nothing.

I hear the clanking of metal objects, and then slow, deliberate footsteps approaching me. I tremble, filled with fear. What is he holding?

A shadow falls over my face, blocking out the light streaming from the unknown light source above. I can’t see him. He’s right above me, and I can’t move.

I scream. The breath I didn’t realize I was holding rushed out of my lungs. A hand had entered my peripheral vision. A wrinkled, ashen claw. Human, but just barely. It was holding a tube, with a needle at the tip. It glowed despite the brightness of the room around it.

Struggling was futile, I know, but I couldn’t help but writhe and scream as I felt the sting of a sharp point push its way into my arm. Behind me, an audible click sounds, and I watch as my blood slowly streams out of my body, my eyes following the dark red line to where it disappears from my line of vision.

Dark red.

Blood.

I’m assailed by a flash of memory. It’s a memory of blood, dark red and flowing.

I suddenly realize who’s behind me, and who I am. I know why I am afraid.

I am a thief. I had a thirst, and I took this man’s blood. I drained him.

Laughing, I stop struggling.

He’s merely taking back what’s his.

A slow, but powerful lethargy washes over me, and I black out.

Credit To – clockspin

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