Don't do this. It's dangerous. Turn around.
Shut up, I told the paranoid, nagging little voice in my head. You're being unreasonable.
But the voice continued anyway.
I drove down the silent, sleeping street, looking for the address he gave me. He insisted I come to his house at midnight, promising a night full of passion, one that would make me forget my previous heartbreak. Usually, I wouldn't be so quick to agree- I'd only known the guy for about a month, after all. But... it didn't matter to me. I was desperate to escape the pain, desperate to move on with my life.
I never loved you...
No! I couldn't think about it! I was NOT going to let myself feel the pain, let alone wallow in it. I had much better things to be doing.
Like meeting a questionable stranger in the middle of the night? the voice pointed out wryly.
I shook my head. He's not a stranger. Don't be stupid.
You're already being stupid, the voice told me, reminding me of when I'd first met him. I'd brushed it off, telling myself there was nothing to be afraid of, but I still couldn't help but feel that there was an air of danger about him. Like I should stay far, far away from him.
But it was irrational. He'd given me no reason to fear him. And besides, even if there was a reason to be scared, I could take care of myself. Right?
I parked the car and climbed out, even more nervous now that I found his house. I stood there for a moment, bathed in the orangey glow of a streetlight, trying to calm myself. I took a deep breath, then walked to the front door.
The meetings took place at night. Always at night. I asked him about it once, and the look he gave me was chilling, showing me exactly what he was going to say next.
"I'd rather not discuss it," he'd told me, his voice hard as iron.
I never brought it up again after that.
I rang the doorbell and waited a moment. When the door opened, that stupid voice told me to run. I promptly ignored it.
He smiled. "You came."
I swallowed. "Of course."
"Well, then, come on in." He gestured inside, and I went, my heart hammering in my chest.
I looked around at the home I had just stepped into. I didn't know what I was expecting, but it was undoubtedly eerily close to what I saw before me. The lighting was dim, convincing my further that this man was photophobic, or something of the sort. Still, I could see that he had money- lots of money. A large chandelier hung on the pale mauve ceiling. The walls were a rich, chocolate brown, and strange paintings hung were placed in a seemingly random order all around the room. A black velvet couch sat directly opposite the door we had just come through. The carpet, which felt spongy beneath my feet, was a deep maroon color. The staircase was ebony, and it made the room look even more grandiose.
I sat on the couch. Fear still pumped through my veins, despite my attempts at self-reassurance.
"Hungry?" He asked, watching me with a look that didn't help my nerves at all.
"I already ate, actually." I informed him. "I figured you would have eaten by now, since that's what you always tell me..." In fact, I can't remember a time where I actually saw him eat. I'd always assumed that he had already eaten, just like he always told me.
But his answer surprised me this time.
"Actually, tonight I'm rather... starved."
Don't be scared. There is nothing to be afraid of.
But I was starting to believe more and more that the nagging, paranoid voice was right all along.
"I-I have to go get something from m-m-my car," I stammered. I stood up, but he grabbed my wrist, his movements much too quick for a human being.
"That's what they all say," he chuckled. I suddenly wondered if all his niceties were real or if they were just a pretense. "Sit down. I haven't had my meal yet."
For the first time, I got a good look at his eyes. I never noticed them before, but now I did. They were a brilliant shade of crimson, the exact same shade as blood
Suddenly, realization dawned on me. The paleness, his unwillingness to be outside in the daytime, his excuse of "Oh, I've eaten already," every time we went out...
The way he looked at me right now, with a hungry glint in his eyes, as if I were his next meal...
It was irrational. It was impossible. But... it seemed so painfully, obviously true.
I was his next meal.
I tried to take a step back, but he still held on to my wrist firmly.
"Y-you're not human..." I forced myself to say. But I couldn't force myself to say what he was. Not yet. Not when I was half-hoping this was a nightmare, or some sick, twisted joke.
He smirked. "Clever, clever girl. Most never figure it out. They're finished before they realize what was going on." He chuckled again, and a shiver ran through my body. I half-expected my heart to burst out of my chest, it was slamming against it so hard.
"Still," he continued, "your realization came a little too late, don't you think?" When I didn't answer, he said, "At least I have another nice, hot meal delivered right to my door."
I'm going to die, I thought. I'm not sure why it just occurred to me. Perhaps my brain was too busy trying to deny that this was real. Or maybe it was working at a slower speed due to my terror. Either way, I couldn't escape. I was no more than a fly, hopelessly entangled in his malicious spiderweb.
I tried to bolt, but it was no use. He pushed my head back, exposing my neck, and sunk his fangs into me. I screamed until I couldn't scream anymore, as I faded away into oblivion.