Emma is turned.
I was fastened to a bed that had been raised to an almost lawn chair appeal. My right index finger wore a monitor pinch and my gaze was on Patrick as he worked away on my clipboard.
He was quite fond of his small sick bay in Pete’s fortress. I felt comfortable in it as he’d been my first human interaction in months. It wasn’t hard to refuse the round face and kind eyes; he was so parental and gentle. I felt I could trust Patrick but with my recent history I had to second guess.
Peter entered the room.
“Is she ready?” his scheming voice mocked.
Patrick simply nodded.
My left arm which been raised above my chest and tied at shoulder level was broken with Goosebumps. I tugged at the leather, watching my skin become raw against the tethers.
Pete lowered his mouth to my wrist and licked the skin; I attempted to pull away again but the restraints did their job quite well. My veins seemed to respond to the saliva; rising against my pale skin.
Then I felt his sharp fangs poke against my wrist, he grazed the skin; ticking my raw flesh. My mouth opened as I screamed in seer pain, his fangs dug so deeply that they crashed against the bone of my forearm. I could feel it through my core and my stomach lurched. Tears were forming in my eyes and falling like rain.
“STOP!” I screamed, feeling pulsing in my womb, “STOP NOW! PLEASE IT HURTS!”
The monitor went of in loud quick beeping, Patrick tried to calm me but I fought even harder against the restraints.
“PETE STOP!” Patrick shouted over my own screaming, “STOP!”
Peter pulled himself from my arm, blood spilled over his lips; already drying on his cheeks. I looked at my wound still pouring with blood. I could barely capture a gasp of breath, my chest rose so sharply.
“Give her the blood,” Pete hissed pulling a needle from his arm, “give her my blood.”
“NO!” I roared, “I WANT HIS BLOOD! I WANT SPENCERS!”
Patrick took the vile from Pete’s hands as he glared at me and slowly made his way towards my distraught body. My soul grew cold with fright as he grabbed my face and pulled it right up against his until we met eye to eye.
“/ I /changed your blood, /I/ am your maker.”
He threw my head back and stormed away his eyes still courting crimson. I broke down crying; Patrick came to my side flicking the needle with Pete’s blood.
“Patrick, please don’t.”
“I’m sorry but the amount of enzymes that he left in that wound is enough to give you a fatal fever,” he glanced away from my eyes, “he broke the veins and arteries even I was to give you enough blood to replace what he took you would still die.”
I drew a labored breath,
“As you know the enzymes have regenerating components but if they enter the blood stream at high amounts they kill the host and then repair what damage that is left behind,” Patrick stroked my arm lightly, “It’s encase the human escapes and goes for help.”
I closed my eyes as he injected the blood. Too late to turn back.