Written by Isabel Night
This story is dedicated to Grandpa Joseph, Aunt Camille, those who taught me about the English language, and all who helped me learn the complex art of writing throughout the years.
This story is also dedicated to those who helped me with their time and talent, including the many people who helped with rewrites, critiques, and language simplification!
Bliss. The moment the air conditioning unit kicks on, I snuggle into the soft sheets. Relaxed, I really want to stay here for five more minutes…
Huh? Why am I laying down? Last thing I remember, I was heading home from my favorite burger joint—
What the…!? Okay! I’m awake! I’m awake! Wait a second… how did I end up here?! Concentrate! Focus! And… who’s this strange guy beside me?
Turning onto my right side, I get a better look at him. Tall, clean-shaven, with brown hair and brown eyes. There’s something about him. Charming, confident… but why do I feel like I've seen him before?
Oh shit! The police sketch! It was being broadcast on the TV over the bar at the burger joint. Channel 8 Tonight, our local news station, has been giving extensive coverage of a horrifying serial rapist, nicknamed “The Vampire.” According to the information the police have released, the suspect could be using colored contact lenses to make his eyes look blood-red. He may also have cosmetically altered teeth – much like vampires from popular stories – because some victims have been found with bite marks on their neck.
Crap!
Get moving! Get moving! Okay, why haven’t I moved?!
“Don’t worry,” the guy smiles. “You haven’t been drugged.”
“Drugged?” I repeat, my words slurring. Brain Fog?
“I prefer not to use drugs to get what I want.”
Yep, it’s official. Just me and The Vampire in this hotel room. I’m pretty sure he’s lying to me… and did drug me. My mind feels fuzzy, and I can’t clear all the cobwebs. This isn’t Brain Fog; I can tell you that much…
On the nightstand next to the alarm clock is a brass-framed, vintage photograph of a battlehardened Union Soldier in dress uniform. Sitting beside him is a woman wearing a Red Cross armband. Probably his sweetheart. Her kind eyes seem softer than the man’s stern gaze. She also has a beautiful smile. Strange, this guy looks a lot like that soldier in the picture. Coincidence?
“Who are you?”
“My name is Marcus.”
“How’d I get here?”
“I brought you here.” Fuck that voice and those unsettling eyes. “It was raining outside.”
Lie. I usually make sure to bring my umbrella—
“A little water never hurt anyone,” Marcus grins obscenely.
That’s it! Move girl!
For the first time, I attempt to sit up. Pressure… more like a force—if you want to call it that—pushes me back down onto the bed. Followed by a jerk and spasm, it’s like… someone’s pinning me down.
How? Nobody’s holding me down.
“You’re correct. The barrier pinning you down will only drain you if you try to fight it.”
“Barrier? Drain? What the fuck are you talking about?” I demand, panting heavily. Also, has he been answering my thoughts?
“A little gift I acquired over the years.” Marcus chuckles, his hands toying with my purple shirt. “You can’t get up until I allow it.”
Dammit! He must’ve knocked me unconscious and brought me here! Now he’s going to fucking rape and kill me! I need to fucking move! And if I don’t move, I’ll end up dead…
Somehow, in the midst of all my panicking, I pass out. I think. Upon opening my eyes, I’m staring into Marcus’ brown ones. Okay, did he manipulate my head? Move me? Remove my clothes? What else did he do?
“You remind me of someone.” He tells me.
I don’t believe that!
“Do you think I’m lying?”
“What the…?” Again, with the answering of thoughts! Stop! Why am I thinking that!? That’s not humanly possible! And why the fuck am I not fighting this dude?! Don’t tell me he’s hypnotized me with his gaze!
“You have her fire, too. I miss that: feeling alive.”
Okay… so he’s not going to rape me? Whew! Nope. I stand corrected. He’s not letting me go… especially when he starts caressing my body. Fingers trailing down my stomach, they rest at the edge of my pants’ waistband…
“You’re mine tonight.”
What the…?! Was that Mental Telepathy? No way! That can’t be it! My mind’s in fight-or-flight mode! It’s making stuff up as it goes along! That’s it! It has to be it!
If I survive tonight, I’m swearing off my favorite: Lemon Balm Tea! Thoughts being answered? Mental Telepathy? I must be scared shitless… even to the point I’m assigning this guy random, superhuman powers! What’ll they do with my brain after I’m found dead?!
When Marcus forces eye contact… the weirdness continues. It’s almost like a black-and-white video with audio playing behind my eyes. Rifles firing. Cannons booming. Injured men are screaming as they’re being treated for their injuries. Dead bodies.
Suddenly, the ‘scene’ shifts to a woman dressed in blue. Her gentle touch. A comforting smile. I can’t place who that woman is at the moment, but… it seems like he’s reflecting on his past…?
The movie ends. Back in the present, I realize there are traces of frustration and anger on Marcus’s face. I wonder if it has more to do with him than me? Whatever it is, something in his eyes is building up. I can see it. And it’s rushing up on Marcus… fast!
This is your chance to escape!
So I roll off the bed. However, I don’t hit the floor. Marcus is stunned by the sudden loss of control, but not for long. Recovering his wits, he yanks me back up from the floor before shoving me onto the bed. “Stay put!” He snarls.
“Fuck no!” I tell him.
He doesn’t listen—
Fuck, he’s climbed on top of me! I have to get out of here— what the…? Something’s off. Marcus isn’t heavy like a regular person.
I shit you not! It feels more like I’m buried in leaves than pinned beneath a man. Not only that, but Marcus’ body begins trembling and shaking. Okay, what’s going on? I’m positive he’s behind the attacks, but why is he shaking? I refuse to believe I’m the first woman he’s lured and attacked—
“No, you can’t have her!”
What the…?!
Thud!
Did he roll off the bed?! How? He was right on top of me—?! Ouch! That scream! It sounds like it’s cutting through my body! Get up, girl! Move!
But I can’t! I still can’t move! Did he do his weird mental thing… oh shit! His eyes are turning blood-red! This is it; I’m going to—
Open your eyes, girl!
This is the third time my mind’s telling me that. If I’m smart, I’ll listen to that voice and do it right away… alcohol? Cleaning disinfectant? Am I at the hospital? No way. The hospital’s halfway across town…
“Detective, we found her outside our emergency entrance.”
“I see. Doctor Shah, can one of your SAFEs perform a sexual assault forensic exam? Just to be sure?”
“Of course. With those attacks still happening, it’s possible she could be another victim.”
Opening my eyes, I gently touch my dry throat. Water. I need water… Bed guardrails… Patient Monitor… Yep, at the hospital.
Whew! Safe. I could kiss every machine in this room right now!
Am I? Knowing what happened to me earlier, I’d rather be safe than sorry. It takes a few seconds to be sure, but until I’m satisfied that Marcus isn’t in the room… Good. I probably should check myself out. Look for signs of injury. The good news: no bite marks. Bruises, yes…
Tap. Tap.
Standing at the doorway, there’s a woman dressed in blue scrubs… with what I assume is a SAFEs’ exam kit. Her smile is gentle… comforting, reassuring… Oh my God…
“Don’t worry, I won’t harm you. I know this exam may feel uncomfortable, but if it becomes too much emotionally, let me know. You aren’t the first victim I’ve helped concerning my ex-fiancée.”
No way! That’s the same woman from the photograph back at the hotel room! I recognize her smile and facial features! Marcus was right, we do look similar! What in the world…?! Is… is she like him? What’s going on?!
THE END
About the Author
Isabel Night, the pseudonym of Adrienne Furio, is a 42-year-old author living in Leonardtown, MD, USA. When she isn't busy writing, Adrienne can be found going for walks on nice days, reading, surfing the web, or shopping online.
You can support her and her work here.