End of Part 168:
Jemima’s POV:
“Shh, Jemima, it’s okay. Calm down. You’re going to be fine; shh,” Ivan murmured, squeezing my hand. “Listen to me; what I have to tell you is very important. It’s vital that you understand, is that clear?”
He spoke urgently, but I didn’t have chance to think on his words for very long, because the inferno increased in intensity then, distracting me and causing me to thrash about again and screech even louder.
Over my screams, I could hear a heartbeat: my heartbeat. I was amazed it was still beating. Shouldn’t I have burned to death by now? I wished I was dead; I wished I’d never been born.
Please, I wanted to beg, kill me! Kill me now!
Somehow, though, I knew that wouldn’t ever happen. I knew that Ivan wouldn’t hurt me.
……………
Part 177:
Jemima’s POV:
3 days later…
My eyes flew open as my back arched up off the table as my heart pounded frantically.
That’s not natural, I thought through the fire in my chest. That is not natural.
When I fell back on the table with a light thunk, the fire was gone and the room was filled with silence. The air was heavy with it. I didn’t breathe. Then I realized I was waiting. I was waiting for my heart to beat. I knew it never would now, but it still filled with panic that I couldn’t hear it.
I had to calm down, so I just stared above me, seeing every chip and stain on the metal roof way above my head. Thousands – millions – of dust motes filled the space around me. Because of what Ivan had told me as I’d burned, I knew that I could count them if I had the patience.
But I didn’t have the patience. I didn’t want to lie here. I could feel the energy and strength in my new muscles; I just wanted to use it.
As soon as I decided to get up, I was on my feet. It was weird.
“Jemima.”
I jumped at the sound of my name, spinning round and scanning the room to find out who said it.
I stopped as soon as I saw him. He was smiling at me, but he looked slightly wary, as though I was dangerous. His smile was wonky, his mouth pulling up slightly more on the left side of his face. His dark, straight hair stuck up slightly at odd angles; he ran his hand through it now, sighing. His eyes were deep black, with just a hint of red at the edges. A light dusting of freckles – the same colour as his hair – clustered together on his nose. How had I not noticed that before?
“You need to hunt,” Ivan told me.
Then, suddenly, fire flared in my throat. The flames, they weren’t gone! It hurt so much – like having a red hot poker stuffed down my throat. Except it was so much worse than that. My hands flew to my throat, as I doubled over, screaming.
“Jemima, Jemima!” I could hear Ivan yelling. “Jemima, calm down! It’s alright! Jemima, we have to hunt, now!”
I looked up at him, my hands still scraping desperately against my neck.
“But, it burns…” I gasped.
He grabbed my hands, holding them together, sandwiched between his.
“I know,” he whispered, his face close to mine. “I know it burns. That’s thirst. I told you about that, remember? You have to feed.”
He pulled me upright, and I followed him as he walked towards the massive doors that stood, shut tightly, about twenty feet away. I looked around me, wondering where we were. We appeared to be in a huge, abandoned warehouse. Rain pattered against the high metal roof. All around us were hundreds – thousands – of unused, dilapidated machines. They were very old; cobwebs covered nearly every inch of them.
As soon as Ivan pushed open the giant metal doors, allowing the grey moonlight to flood in, the fire returned to my throat. I could smell them, the humans; I could hear their heart beats.
The whole town was grey; I recognized it. It was my town. And, even as I lost myself to something that was alien to me, I knew I wasn’t becoming a monster. As I slipped into a hunting crouch and raced off down the darkened streets, leaving Ivan behind me, I knew exactly where I was headed. I wasn’t killing in cold blood to feed myself – I was getting revenge on all the overweight, middle aged, sexist pigs that came to the pub every night.
This was going to be fun.
Jemima’s POV:
“Shh, Jemima, it’s okay. Calm down. You’re going to be fine; shh,” Ivan murmured, squeezing my hand. “Listen to me; what I have to tell you is very important. It’s vital that you understand, is that clear?”
He spoke urgently, but I didn’t have chance to think on his words for very long, because the inferno increased in intensity then, distracting me and causing me to thrash about again and screech even louder.
Over my screams, I could hear a heartbeat: my heartbeat. I was amazed it was still beating. Shouldn’t I have burned to death by now? I wished I was dead; I wished I’d never been born.
Please, I wanted to beg, kill me! Kill me now!
Somehow, though, I knew that wouldn’t ever happen. I knew that Ivan wouldn’t hurt me.
……………
Part 177:
Jemima’s POV:
3 days later…
My eyes flew open as my back arched up off the table as my heart pounded frantically.
That’s not natural, I thought through the fire in my chest. That is not natural.
When I fell back on the table with a light thunk, the fire was gone and the room was filled with silence. The air was heavy with it. I didn’t breathe. Then I realized I was waiting. I was waiting for my heart to beat. I knew it never would now, but it still filled with panic that I couldn’t hear it.
I had to calm down, so I just stared above me, seeing every chip and stain on the metal roof way above my head. Thousands – millions – of dust motes filled the space around me. Because of what Ivan had told me as I’d burned, I knew that I could count them if I had the patience.
But I didn’t have the patience. I didn’t want to lie here. I could feel the energy and strength in my new muscles; I just wanted to use it.
As soon as I decided to get up, I was on my feet. It was weird.
“Jemima.”
I jumped at the sound of my name, spinning round and scanning the room to find out who said it.
I stopped as soon as I saw him. He was smiling at me, but he looked slightly wary, as though I was dangerous. His smile was wonky, his mouth pulling up slightly more on the left side of his face. His dark, straight hair stuck up slightly at odd angles; he ran his hand through it now, sighing. His eyes were deep black, with just a hint of red at the edges. A light dusting of freckles – the same colour as his hair – clustered together on his nose. How had I not noticed that before?
“You need to hunt,” Ivan told me.
Then, suddenly, fire flared in my throat. The flames, they weren’t gone! It hurt so much – like having a red hot poker stuffed down my throat. Except it was so much worse than that. My hands flew to my throat, as I doubled over, screaming.
“Jemima, Jemima!” I could hear Ivan yelling. “Jemima, calm down! It’s alright! Jemima, we have to hunt, now!”
I looked up at him, my hands still scraping desperately against my neck.
“But, it burns…” I gasped.
He grabbed my hands, holding them together, sandwiched between his.
“I know,” he whispered, his face close to mine. “I know it burns. That’s thirst. I told you about that, remember? You have to feed.”
He pulled me upright, and I followed him as he walked towards the massive doors that stood, shut tightly, about twenty feet away. I looked around me, wondering where we were. We appeared to be in a huge, abandoned warehouse. Rain pattered against the high metal roof. All around us were hundreds – thousands – of unused, dilapidated machines. They were very old; cobwebs covered nearly every inch of them.
As soon as Ivan pushed open the giant metal doors, allowing the grey moonlight to flood in, the fire returned to my throat. I could smell them, the humans; I could hear their heart beats.
The whole town was grey; I recognized it. It was my town. And, even as I lost myself to something that was alien to me, I knew I wasn’t becoming a monster. As I slipped into a hunting crouch and raced off down the darkened streets, leaving Ivan behind me, I knew exactly where I was headed. I wasn’t killing in cold blood to feed myself – I was getting revenge on all the overweight, middle aged, sexist pigs that came to the pub every night.
This was going to be fun.
