The Rapture

My eyes fluttered open, the world a blur of confusion and doubt. Had it all been a nightmare? Was I safe at home, the argument with my parents and the rain-soaked alley a figment of my imagination?

But as clarity returned, so did the chilling reality. The dimly lit apartment, the haunting events of the night before, the figure who had shot me – it was all sickeningly real.

He sat across from me, a dark silhouette against the muted light, his piercing blue eyes watching me with an unsettling intensity. The memory of the gunshot, the sensation of falling, the eerie red light – it all rushed back, a tidal wave of terror and confusion.

"You shot me?" My voice emerged as a hoarse whisper, my hand instinctively reaching for my head, expecting to find a wound. But there was nothing, not even a trace of blood.

Fear gnawed at my insides as I struggled to comprehend the impossible. I was alive, yet I had been shot. And how had I ended up in this stranger's apartment?

"You shot me?" I repeated, my voice louder now, laced with a tremor of fear. "I was... hurt?"

"Yes," he confirmed, his tone as casual as if discussing the weather. "How are you feeling?"

I paused, trying to assess my physical state. "I... I don't know. Dizzy. And incredibly hungry." A sharp pang in my stomach confirmed the latter.

He extended a crystal glass towards me, filled with a thick, crimson liquid. A heady aroma wafted from it, a scent that stirred a primal hunger within me, a craving I hadn't known existed. I took the glass, my thirst overriding any lingering caution, and drank deeply.

The liquid was like a potent elixir, coursing through my veins, igniting a warmth that spread throughout my body. It was unlike anything I had ever tasted, yet it felt strangely familiar as if my body had always yearned for this sustenance.

"This will tide you over for a while," he said, offering another glass.

I eagerly accepted, draining the second glass in a matter of seconds. The hunger subsided, replaced by a sense of clarity and focus.

His gaze swept over me, taking in my blood-soaked clothes and the faint remnants of my injury. I followed his eyes, my gaze falling upon my ruined white graduation gown. A lump formed in my throat as I noticed fragments of brain matter clinging to the fabric.

The horror of seeing my blood, my own brains. It all washed over me, the reality of my death and subsequent resurrection too much to bear. Nausea surged through me, the room tilting and swaying. Just before darkness claimed me once more, I heard his chilling words echoing in my ears:

"You'll make a great vampire."