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You're Not Sorry
Kale walked down a corridor of white speckled with dots of purple, blue, and green. Nurses clad in sea foam green scrubs filtered in and out of the same hallway. He had been here not too long ago, only in one of the rooms, lying in a hospital bed awaiting his death.
“Excuse me. Sir?”
Kale turned with glazed-over eyes toward a receptionist’s desk. His eyes gravitated to her fleshy neck with a pronounced jugular vein. Taking a breath, he blinked very consciously and tried to look as natural as he could.
“Who are you looking for?” the thirty-something blonde woman asked.
“Tyler,” Kale finally said with much effort, licking his lips, eliciting a disgusted look from the receptionist. She scanned her computer screen. “He’s in room two eighteen.”
“Thank you,” Kale nodded.
Breathing heavily, Kale tried to recompose himself as he scanned the placards beside the doors for room 218. His unbecoming fixation with necks had been only one of his challenges of late. Sure, remembering to eat and trying to maintain the appearance of a healthy skin tone were difficult, but the bloodlust was definitely one of the more challenging things that came with his new life.
After another agonizing moment of trying and failing to concentrate, he arrived at room 218. Reaching for the door, he caught sight of his reflection in the slender window. His free hand reached up toward his face, overly dramatically, he realized. But boy, that makeup was terrible. He looked as pasty as ever, and he might need to invest in some colored contacts because the crimson red eyes might be off-putting.
Shrugging it off, he entered. Closing the door behind him, he turned and immediately cringed and shielded his face with his hand. Even the dull, pale sunlight beaming through the streaky windows strung his delicate eyes.
Striding over to the window, Kale yanked the blinds down and his eyes instantly cried out with relief. Lying in the hospital bed seemed to be some over exaggerated hospital patient from a bad comedy. Both legs and an arm in casts. Bandages wrapped around his head and cuts scattered all over his face. However at first, Kale only saw the red patches. His mouth watered, but he was able to control himself, mostly because the blood occupied someone who made him almost as sick as the blood made him hungry.
“Kale.”
The dead body speaks. Kale rolled his eyes as conspicuously as he could. He wasn’t afraid to show his contempt for this monster, however inappropriate a title that was. After all, he was the monster, wasn’t he? That’s what the folk stories said anyway. “Hello, Tyler,” he said spitefully, crossing his arms. “You don’t look so hot.”
“Kale,” the dilapidated boy said, his voice reaching out to him, mitigating the use of his…less injured arm, not that it was necessary. Kale could hear it in his voice, the longing, the desire, for something that he must have felt like he could steal from him. However, what he wanted, he couldn’t steal. Not this time.
“I could kill you,” Kale’s voice was cold. If he was some kind of superhuman instead of a vampire, his voice could freeze the air solid. He didn’t even know why he was here. This jerk didn’t deserve his visit, much less the consideration that Kale was actually giving his proposition.
“Or you could wait a few days,” Tyler quipped, mustering up a chuckle. “C’mon, Kale. Help a guy out.”
“You’re not funny,” Kale said bluntly. “And I don’t think you really deserve my help, or anyone’s help for that matter.”
“I know your secret,” Tyler’s voice didn’t even sound like it was coming from his mouth. The threatening tone that it had suddenly taken on did not agree with the image of his current state. Then as suddenly as it had become threatening, it became soft again. “Just help me out this once.”
“I don’t think you understand what you’re asking,” Kale leaned back against the window sill. “Either that or you don’t understand how funny this is for me. Either way you don’t understand something.”
“What is there not to understand?” Tyler questioned, his voice rising. “I just need a favor!” he cried out.
Kale closed his eyes. “Tyler, Tyler Tyler,” Kale shook his head. Standing up straight, he stepped toward Tyler’s hospital bed, causing him to sidle away ever so slightly. “You’ve hurt me so much. Do you know how many times I cut these because of you?” he demanded, his voice still quiet, as he pulled up the sleeves of his sweater. Despite many years of deep cutting, not a scar remained on his milky skin, courtesy of his turning. “Of course you don’t!” Kale remarked to himself. “You can’t even see the proof anymore!”
“Don’t have hard feelings, Kale,” Tyler reasoned. “Can’t you forgive a pal?”
“We’re not pals,” Kale shot him down quickly. By now, he could see that Tyler was truly growing desperate. He was beginning to squirm in his bed, despite his injuries. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”
“Come. On. Kale,” Tyler gritted his teeth. He winced as his fidgeting hurt one of his many broken somethings. “I will not just lie here and die!”
“Give me one good reason I should help you. Save you,” Kale corrected himself.
“Kale,” Tyler’s voice cracked. “You’re the last thing that can save me. No medicine or doctor can.”
Kale contemplated this fact for a moment, ruminating on the thought. He knew he would regret it, but he looked so pathetic.
“Okay,” he relented with a sigh, not believing his decision.
“Really?! You’ll do it?!” Tyler asked with the same amount of disbelief.
Kale nodded. Tyler cocked his neck as Kale approached him. He was too giddy for Kale’s liking. Brandishing his perfectly polished fangs, Kale leaned in and clamped down on Tyler’s neck, drawing a sharp, but excited yelp. The warm blood tasted like heaven on his tongue and he could feel Tyler’s body shaking. He could barely contain his excitement, not that it would last long.
Kale kept biting down even harder than before.
“Do…do you…bite this much?” Tyler’s voice was wobbly with horrified, frantic surprise. “K-kale…? K-k-kale!”
Kale heard Tyler. His vampire instincts weren’t getting the better of him. He knew exactly what he was doing, and the blood…the blood was the icing on the cake! He kept slurping it up until Tyler fell silent, and then a little longer just to make sure he didn’t miss any.
Withdrawing his fangs, Kale dropped the body, crimson staining his teeth and lips and dripping from both. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he breathed slowly, savoring the taste of blood. Below him, the bloodless husk was now nearly as pale as him, albeit shriveled up a little. His eyes were still wide open with the shock of being fooled and having every ounce of blood drained from his body.
Turning, Kale pressed the nurse call button on Tyler’s heart monitor and walked out of the dark room, leaving the body for the nurse to find.
“You didn't say sorry,” he whispered as he walked out the door.
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