Death and Rebirth | Teen Ink

Death and Rebirth

November 6, 2008
By Anonymous

He reaches up to brush my hair aside and proceeds to tilt my head slightly, exposing the tender skin and throbbing vein. I can feel his cold breath draw nearer and then his lips brush gently with my neck.

I brace myself. His teeth are like daggers as they pierce my already paling flesh and I succumb to the icy crimson kisses. I can sense his aura penetrating my soul, seeping through my veins to take control of my blood.

My mind is racing as my body begins to break and crumble. I cling to his freezing form, reveling in the state of intoxication brought on by this brush with death. I barely notice the purple tinge my numbing fingers have acquired from the rapid loss of blood.

He pulls back and I can see the scarlet of my being fresh on his lips as he licks it away. I do not dare release my fingers from where they are entwined in his raven hair, for I know that if I do, my legs will surely collapse beneath the weight of my body.

He wraps one protective arm around my waist, and though his skin feels like ice, the embrace is still as warm and reassuring as a lover’s. Slowly, he raises his own wrist to his lips and slices through the snowy tissue.

I can barely comprehend his order to drink, focusing too much on the black spots dancing in my vision. I finally start to resist as my face is pushed forward and I am forced to gulp down the smooth, bitter liquid.

I try to run, but my legs are lead weights bolted to the ground. I try to turn my head, but my neck is locked in place. The pain is excruciating as the scarlet river flows into me. It sizzles and burns my throat like molten fire, yet like ice, it freezes not only my movement, but also every organ in my body. My heart is beating so rapidly I think it may explode, and every breath is sheer agony as it enters my laboring lungs.

But I drink.

The more I drink, the stronger I feel. He no longer tastes bitter and metallic, but sweet, like fine wine. I drink to satisfy a thirst that can never be quenched. I drink as though I’ve been deprived of food and on the brink of starvation my entire life. I drink until finally, my heart has long stopped beating and I collapse onto the ground.

He kneels beside me and his frozen fingers meet my paling face. I stare with weary eyes at my savior. He is the one being I owe everything to. By killing me, he actually saved me.

By bringing my death, he gave me life.

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This article has 2 comments.

on Oct. 15 2018 at 10:31 am
Hermione-Granger BRONZE, Bethel Park, Pennsylvania
4 articles 0 photos 198 comments
Beautifully written!

on Nov. 13 2008 at 2:59 am
Another vamp story, eh? Oh well, I like those! This was REALLY good!! KUDOS! But you need to end it probably. And plus explain how he was saving her (her, right?) life. Just my opinion. :) But great descriptions!