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“He’s right, Frey.” Tina had to add her two cents, probably loving that I was crucifying myself before Freya.
“I don’t believe that. I don’t think you would!” She seemed persistent. Delusionally persistent at that.
I wasn’t myself when I was this hungry. I was like a beast that had been starved for days. Unable to distinguish anything good or bad and only the need to feed.
“Trust me, I would. And I’d love every agonizing second of it. I would revel in it because you taste better than a hundred of those girls. You taste better than anything I’ve ever had before.” I tried not to look at her eyes as I spoke, but it felt impossible. “And I haven’t even fucked you yet.”
Her face blushed, and I hated every inch of it. I hated that she was refusing to see this darker side of me. That she had suddenly had some revelation that I was redeemable. That I wasn’t this monster that she needed desperately to stay away from.
Out of frustration, I walked away down toward the hall of rooms. Forcing myself to find a room and be alone. Anywhere felt better than facing Freya right now.
Typically, there were several open spots, but as I passed each door, I could see blood smears on each. It wasn’t until we reached the end of the bloody hallway that we found the single last room.
Of course, there had to only beone.
I reached into my pocket, grabbed the thin pocketknife I had stashed long ago, and let the blade scratch into the belly of my palm.
“What are you doing?” Freya jolted forward, grasping at myhand to pull it away from the blade, but I jerked my hand back from her.
“It’s customary to mark the door you’re using with your blood,” I said plainly.
“It’s so they know who’s staying in it,” Oliver interjected, probably knowing I didn’t want to speak.
Her brow lifted, intrigued and also horrified by it.
I saw red pooling in my hand, my fingers curling in admiration. I let my hand wave over the door, the sting of it bleeding through to my hand as it brushed against the wood. My head nudged Oliver for him to go inside while I tried my best to calm myself.
Freya didn’t move inside with Tina but instead stood by my side. Her eyes were watching me as if trying to understand me. She leaned into me slightly, her hand holding mine. At first, I thought she might just be feeling bad for me again, but as the cracking sound of fabric ruptured my ear, I realized she had suddenly reached down and torn a piece of her shirt off. She gently placed it over my hand, wrapping it twice before tying it together rather harshly. I could feel the fabric searing into my skin, burning me as it soaked up my blood, staining it red almost instantly.
“Thank you.” I winced, still unable to hold any long glances toward her.
We said nothing and then moved into the room with Tina and Oliver.
It was small, though to be expected. After all, these rooms were used forotheractivities most of the time.
The room was probably 12 x 10 feet with a single queen- sized bed propped in the corner with little to no furniture aside from that.
Oliver ranted about needing food and vowed to find some, while Freya insisted Tina go with him. Never in my life had I seen a girl so persistent to tempt death. I was on the verge of combustion, and she was dancing between that frail line that I was trying to separate us with.
After an extended conversation with Tina that had quite a few yelling words back and forth, Tina huffed in defeat, leaving to go with Oliver, but not before giving me the ‘if you kill her, I will kill you’ speech.
I had never been so scared to be alone with a girl in all my life.
As if tempting me, she drifted into the small bathroom to get cleaned up. And with no one there to stop me from my intrusive thoughts, I found myself wandering toward the bathroom door. Honestly, I felt like this was some test that Freya had put in place. One that I was failing at miserably.
I couldn’t help my thoughts from wondering what Freya must look like right now. How beautiful her skin probably was. How sickeningly glowing she might look, soaked from head to toe.
I reached forward, about to open the door for just a peak, when the door swung open.
“Hey, I think-” She said, her words getting stuck in her throat as she stood only an inch from me in nothing but a towel.
Her eyes danced around my face as if shocked I was standing by the door so close. “I - uh - I think I might need something else to wear.” Her hands gestured to her torn shirt that dangled in her right fingertips while the left clenched onto her towel desperately.
“I don’t know, I could get used to this look.” I hadn’t realized I had said that out loud, but it was too late to take it back.
Myeyes couldn’t peel themselves from looking down at her, pondering what she might look like under that towel. What it might feel like to feel the softness of her skin. She was beginning to feel like a drug that I desperately needed just one hit from. Just one small taste…
I almost got lost imagining it before I pulled myself back together, shaking off the image and trying not to be a slave to my impulses.
