The Dragire

The world shifts again. One moment, I'm lying in the grass with Ann, holding her close, and the next, I'm wide awake, every sense heightened, every sound sharp and painfully clear. It's like the world has exploded in my ears, and I can hear everything. Every tiny rustle in the grass, every fluttering leaf, the distant chirp of birds, the rhythmic beat of two heartbeats. Mine and someone else's.

And then, there's the hunger.

It's like nothing I've ever felt before. It starts as a faint pull in the back of my throat, but it quickly grows into something insistent, something primal that I can't push away. My whole body feels it, like every inch of me is screaming for something I can't name. Something I need, something that could fill the ache gnawing at me from the inside.

Blood.

The word slips into my mind without invitation. It's a craving, a thirst that's almost unbearable. It's not like anything I've ever tasted before. I've had blood. I've tasted it, over the years—animal blood, blood that was a little too sweet, too thick. I've never thought much of it, but now… now, this is different. This is pure, metallic, rich in a way that sends a shiver through me. It smells so good, so tantalizing, like I could taste it with every breath I take.

I turn my head slightly, trying to shake off the hunger. The scent is intoxicating, and it pulls at me like a thread I can't untangle. I look down at Ann, still clutched in my arms. She's so small, so fragile. But that isn't what I'm focused on.

What I'm focused on is the blood. The blood I crave.

I can feel my fangs—it's like they've always been there, and now, they've finally revealed themselves, pushing against my gums with a hunger I don't understand. The taste is so close. So close.

A voice snaps me back to reality, and it's Adam's voice.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his words distant, muffled, though I know he's only an inch away. The sound of his voice makes my heart skip a beat, but it doesn't do anything to calm the raging storm inside me. His concern is almost a relief, a tether to the present, but all I can focus on is the craving. It's too strong to ignore. It feels like it's eating me from the inside out.

"Are you okay?" he says again, closer this time, his voice sharp with worry.

I blink, my mind hazy as I try to focus. But the hunger is still there, pulling me under, and I can't stop the thoughts from swirling. Is there blood around? Is there any close by? I try to fight it, to think rationally, but my senses are overwhelming. I can smell the blood—its sweetness, its richness—and the thought of it consumes me.

I pull myself up quickly, trying to distance myself from Ann, from Adam. Trying to distance myself from the hunger. It's unbearable. But no matter where I turn, the scent follows me, wraps around me like a drug I can't escape.

"You're scaring me," Adam says, his voice full of concern now. I can hear the panic creeping into his words, but it feels so far away. My body trembles, and I can feel my fangs pushing further, sharp and dangerous. I need it. I need blood.

"I'm fine," I whisper, though I'm not sure I believe it. I want to be fine. But everything inside me screams for something else. I can't control it anymore.

I can't control me.

Mom was right. I'm not supposed to be outside.

I try to steady my breathing, to regain some semblance of control over myself. But the craving is still there, gnawing at me, and I can't shake the feeling that something inside me is unraveling. I need blood. I need to feed. But I can't stay here. Not like this.

"Ma'am, are you alright?" Adam's voice breaks through the fog, his tone soft yet filled with concern. This time, there's a touch, a gentle hand on my arm, grounding me.

And with that small gesture, just like that, I feel a flicker of control. My fangs retract. The hunger subsides, but just barely. It's like a fire that's been doused, but the embers are still there, smoldering. The pull of blood is still present, but it's weaker.

I pull away from him quickly, my voice strained as I whisper, "I need to leave."

I don't wait for him to say anything else. I just turn and walk away, my legs moving faster than I want them to, but I can't stop. I can't be here anymore. The distance between us feels like a lifeline, and I can't hold on to the illusion of control any longer. The hunger is there, the need to feed, and it's growing again with every step.

As I leave, I hear the little voice of Ann calling after me, her words soft, full of confusion and something else—something I can't place.

"You saved me," she says, her voice small but filled with awe.

I don't look back. I can't. The need to leave them behind, to get away from the source of the hunger, is too strong. I push forward, the world around me blurring as my thoughts race. I leave them both in that moment, consumed by confusion, agitated by my own desperate cravings.

The further I get, the more the blood's scent fades, and with it, the hunger starts to dull. My senses start to return to normal, and I take in a long, steady breath. The air smells clean again. The pressure that was suffocating me eases, but I still can't understand what just happened. What did I feel? What was that overwhelming hunger, that burning need?

What was that?!

The question hangs in the air, unanswered. And for the first time, I realize that I'm no longer sure of what's happening to me.

I don't know what I've become. And I don't know if I'm ready to face it.