“I’m so sick of this back and forth with you, Kip. You shut me out, not the other way around. The sooner you get control over yourself, the sooner this stops.”
“I’m fucking trying! Jesus. Give me a minute to catch my breath, and then we can try again.” I eye the cattle prod in Tyson’s hand warily. He’s shocked me with it five times already. At this rate, the sight of any amount of blood is going to send me into a panic for fear of pain. “What happens when after this I can’t feed because I’m terrified of the pain? Did the council think of that when they chose this method of instruction?”
With a tool that looks suspiciously like a trash grabber, he thrusts a vial of freshly procured blood towards me. And no, please don’t ask where the fresh blood is from, because I don’t want to know. I have a feeling it’s not from a willing source.
Instantly, my fangs drop and my claws grow. This time, instead of going absolutely feral, I breathe through my mouth instead of my nose,trying to escape the scent of blood. I manage to turn my head away, continuously mouth breathing. I’m doing better this time than I’ve done the past five attempts. Before, I couldn’t control the bloodlust that washed over me at all. Now, I’m fighting it with everything I have.
“Good job, Kip. That was much better. We still need to get you to the point where your fangs and claws don’t descend automatically.” He pulls the blood back, but at the same time strikes forward with the cattle prod, catching me in the throat this time.
The electricity thrums through my skin, making me jolt and gasp through the pain. I keel over, my knees hitting the concrete with a crack. “Why?!” I rasp, tears gathering in my eyes.
“Until you can control yourself completely and reliably, you’re going to keep getting shocked.”
“I feel like you’re enjoying this.” My chest heaves while I try to steady my breathing.
Tyson huffs. “When have you ever known me to be sadistic like that? This isn’t how I want to be spending my time. This is what’s required of us by the council.”
“Yeah? Well I’d like to fucking meet this fucked up council.”
“You really, really don’t. Anyway, I have to get back to the gym. I have clients still this afternoon. Don’t go anywhere while I’m gone.” Tyson snorts.
To Tyson’s retreating back I call out “Can you at least give me a blanket and a flashlight before you go?! And also, please take care of Nacho for me!”
He waves over his shoulder, not bothering to look back, before slamming the door and leaving me in darkness again.
I find myself sitting with my back against the cold, damp cement wall. Every surface in this jail is slightly wet and very cold. Before turning, I always ran hot, so the chilly temps of my prison wouldn’t have bothered me. Then again, I wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place if I was still human. So far, my cons list of vampirism far outweighs the pros. In fact, I don’t have a single pro to list. This shit sucks, dude. Would not recommend. Being a vampire looked really cool in Twilight.
I rest my head back against the wall, shutting my eyes and imagining I’m anywhere but locked in this fucking basement. I hope Charliedoesn’t think I’m ghosting him again. Tyson must’ve taken my phone when he broke my neck, because it’s not in my pockets. Unless I left it in my locker at the gym. This morning is a blur.
I really hope that Nacho is okay. I haven’t seen him since before my impromptu date with Charlie. I left him full bowls of water and food, but I hope that Tyson actually checks on him. I kinda wish Nacho was here with me, I could use that little ball of fluff to snuggle with and keep me company in the dark.
I startle awake, having dozed off while sitting up against the wall. A slight scraping sound is what woke me, and as my eyes peel open I see a small shaft of light from the now propped open door.
My eyes take a few seconds to un-blur from sleep. When they connect with a cloaked figure standing outside my cell, I flinch back and a sharp intake of breath. “What the fuck, bro?!”
A throaty chuckle reverberates lowly off the walls. “I’m not a bro, and even if I was, I wouldn’t be yours.” The low voice of a woman comes from underneath the hood of the cloak.
“Ooohhkay…I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but uhhh…who are you?”
She lets out a humming sound. “Did Tyson tell you nothing about our community?”
Am I going to throw him under the bus? Old Kip wouldn’t have done that, but he’s not here at the moment. What’s the Taylor Swift lyric? Old Kip can’t come to the phone now, why? Because he’s dead. Literally. I snicker, not meaning to. I’m not used to sitting un-entertained for hours like this. My brain is used to constant movement and thoughts. And sure, most of the time those thoughts are about how many reps I’m going to do the next time I work out, but I have thoughts in my brain. I swear.
Pulling myself together, I finally respond to the stranger’s question. “Honestly, Tyson hasn’t taught me shit. He’s the worst vampire mentor in history, I’m pretty sure. Fuck, he’s the reason I’m in this whole mess.”
“Yes, the council heard about his unorthodox feeding regimen with you, as well as the accident that led to your turning. We are not pleased with him, and he will be dealt with, be assured.”
“In the same way you’re dealing with me? Jail cell and cattle prod? Because let me tell you, this is pretty medieval.” Woah, sassy Kip, where did you come from? Charlie must be rubbing off on me. I audibly groan, oh man, how I wish he was rubbing off on me instead of me being locked in this cell.
“It’s proven to be effective in the majority of cases similar to yours. But no, Tyson will not be dealt with in the same manner that you are.” She speaks so formally, every word precisely picked and pronounced.
I’ve never wanted to hurt another being, but truthfully, a small (very small, or so I tell myself) part of me wants to have a go at poking Tyson with the cattle prod. Just to show him how it feels. He acted like he was offended when I suggested he was enjoying my torment, but I saw the gleam in his eyes each time he jabbed me with the prod.
“Okay, so you came here to assure me, or what?” My tone comes out more annoyed than I expected. I think I’m on edge, not only from being locked in this cell, but also from the unnerving presence of this strange lady. Something about her gives me the creeps.
“No.” She says shortly. “I came here because it’s my duty to check on the council’s prisoners, seeing as I’m the warden of all the supernatural prisons in the United States.”
“Wait, how many prison’ are there?”
