I was hungry.
It gnawed at me, the hunger, from the very confines of my core, and bile had become a menace, threatening to emerge from my throat. My skin felt incredibly dry, as if it was about to crack open and leave me as nothing but a pile of ashes. I knew that to be a lie ; earlier, my fingers had brushed the sides of my temple and had returned damp.
No individual seemed to notice my distress ; The Den was functioning as usual. Sweet music seeped from every corner, hushed to a gentle lull, and whispers roamed around the room, enveloping me with their soothing caresses. If I looked behind me, right now, I would see the effortless glide of hands across the dark gloss of a piano, and above it, the flicker of faulty lanterns dimmed to an intimate glow.
I still felt it, pulsing through my skin, a hunger so potent and raw it suffocated me, and I wondered if I would ever be able to take another breath. Something was very wrong. My eyes snapped open, though I wasn’t aware they had previously been closed, and I tentatively looked around for something, someone, to steady me.
Crimson-painted walls surrounded me, ornamented with golden frames in which stood vintage photographs of beaming women, holding each other’s hands lovingly, the way I imagined sisters would. The familiar stench of alcohol filled the air, and conversations seemed to flourish by the minute, certainly encouraged by the very smell that always lingered in this room. A few feet away from me, a group of men was playing a lively game of cards, exchanging pleasantries and crude jokes. They sat comfortably on various velvet couches, some with their feet resting on the wooden tables in front of them, while others looked more contained, focused on business. I could see fumbling hands under the tables, exchanging small rolls of cash ; whatever kind of transaction was occurring, it had nothing to do with lawfulness. It was what The Den was known for, after all ; in such sinful darkness, no deed was illicit.
That was what initially drew me in, what drew most people in. Just like them, I’d forever regret seeking beyond the bar’s doors.
A sharp, stinging pain broke me out of my thoughts. Something warm pooled down the length of my fingers, and I looked down in consternation.
It was blood.
Not only was it blood, but it was a knife. An actual knife, unlike the dull ones I’d seen being used by The Den’s kitchen staff ; this one was remarkably sharp, a straight blade of shining silver, probably capable of cutting through the air. It emerged from an oak handle, on which indecipherable, blood-soaked words were inscribed.
My pulse rang in my ears. How did such a beautiful weapon land in my hand ? I looked down again, seeing my crimson painted hand, and the hunger seemed to be unleashed at the sight. A foolish thought crossed my mind. I must be turning into a vampire. Sour laughter immediately bubbled inside my throat. Of course, I wasn’t turning into a vampire. The thought reminded me of our world, not ten years ago, when all seemed dark and rotten. Back then, we managed to incarnate old tales, us foolish creatures, and though teeth never grew sharper than they were, vampires surged the streets, avid, thirsty. For what ? That, I cannot say. We all ached for different things, because we had been given too much.
So I suppose I was, in fact, some kind of vampire, aching for too many things in a deadly way, though none of this explained the blood staining my trembling fingers. The hunger growled again, this time furiously, and I almost gave in. But I shouldn’t. I couldn’t. What was happening ? My mind was an incessant symphony of chaotic chords, questions dancing on my tongue, thoughts singing in my ears. Frustration nagged at me, and I instinctively closed my hand around the knife, ignoring the pain rushing to my fingers.
One second passed. Another. In between these two, I’d made a decision. I had to make it stop. The hunger never would.
I tightened my hand around the knife. I did so until blood seeped out of my every pore, until I could only see stars, and then, only then-
did I let the darkness envelop me.