I
know I’m in a small room. I walked in here from the hall, which was no further
than five steps from the door. The smell of cat food is dominant. I wonder, if
her cat eats in her bedroom does it sleep on her bed as well?
She’s
in the bathroom to freshen up. I take the opportunity to examine the room for
the little details. The cat is on my left, breathing softly. It is not scared,
just alarmed. Things will not go well for it if it stays in the room in the next
few minutes. To the right of the cat, her desk. Oak. Not very expensive,
several years old. Must have been her first desk as a student and she kept it
through the years. I feel the warmth of her open PC. Around it, a picture or two,
notebooks, pens. Random stuff I don’t have the time to go over.
A
small draft of air and noise from the city outside let me know there’s a window
on the wall opposite the entrance, between her desk and her bed. It is slightly
open. I walk up to it and close it, locking it as well. The last thing I need
is more noise distracting my senses.
I
hear her footsteps down the hall. When she walks inside, she finds me sitting
on the edge of her bed. I can smell her wet hair, washed with coconut shampoo.
She brushed her teeth too; her breath is fresh and smells of cherries. I touch
her lips softly. She’s smiling.
“You
are magnificent, Anna” I whisper in her ear. She wraps her arms around my neck
and sits on my lap. All she’s wearing is her towel.
“I
know” she says jokingly and I feel a light jolt as she forces me to lean back,
lying on her bed. She throws the towel away and guides my hands over her body.
There are still some wet spots on her, some of which she definitely omitted to wipe
on purpose. Soon her breathing starts to accelerate and I can practically smell
the pheromones raging. And soon, she will realize I’m as cold as when I entered
her apartment.
I
lean forward, grab her firmly by the waist with one hand, bringing her face
closer to mine, and stroke her hair with the other. “You
are as beautiful as you are naïve, but cannot be blamed. You are the sweet
victim of something that is beyond your comprehension” I say and sink my teeth in
her neck before she has the time to react.
I
welcome the sudden rush of blood with great pleasure. I lose myself in the
moment, letting the torrent of her scarlet nectar flow through my esophagus,
down to my chest and heart and then all over my cold limbs. I feel like a god
and a pauper all at once. I succumb to my most basic of instincts, and through
this humbling surrender I ascend, I break through my limitations, my curses and
my disciplines; I just feel. For this
precious moment, which is all I look forward to in my wretched existence, I am
alive.
When
I finish, I am spent. It takes a few seconds for the energy to kick in. Dizzy,
as if enchanted by my feast, I feel her pulse. I was too hungry and dug deeper
than I intended. She is gone.
I
lay her carefully on her bed, legs together and hands crossed on her chest. She
must look even more beautiful now, pale and calm. I want to believe her long,
soft hair is red. The thought somehow makes me just a bit more remorseful. I
bend over her and kiss her lightly on her lips, which have remained parted in
surprise. She still smells of cherries.
As
I walk over the dead cat and reach for the door, I turn around and say to her: “Farewell, Anna. I will remember you”. I know I
mean it. A red drop of blood added to a whirlpool of tormenting memories won’t
burden me much more.
When
I walk outside, I hear the early morning birds singing. I must find shelter
before dawn. As I tighten my coat around me, I retrace the steps back home,
counting slowly.
I never saw the dawn while I lived and never
will. But when I decide to put an end to my pitiful existence, I will walk
outside in the sun and let the bright light bathe me, purge me. And just before
I disappear, I won’t see it, but I will feel it. And I’m sure it will be warm
and forgiving and will smell of cherries.
