Page 13 of Afflicted

With a roar that sends me stock-still with shock, the feeder lunges at me. Before I can scream or shriek or even draw breath, he’s thrown me over his shoulder, stalking the length of the dorm.

“Put me down!” I hammer at his back. “What the fuck are you doing? Put me down!”

Everyone’s up now, watching this whole situation unfold in front of them. The feeder keeps carrying me out into the night, across the yard to the shower block, ignoring my blows to his back and my shouted protests. Even the other feeders regard us with curiosity and confusion.

Who the fuck is this guy?

He slams open the door to the shower block, and in the shower room he unceremoniously puts me on my feet. I stumble a little, backing away from him against the cool tiled wall.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

Goddamn he’s terrifying. His eyes are bright red, his shoulders heaving as he breathes through gritted teeth.

“Wash. Now.” His voice is an angry snarl, echoing off the bare walls.

“I’m not showering in front of you.”

“Suddenly got standards on who’s allowed to see you naked, ey?”

My hand shoots out, nothing but instinct driving me, and I slap him hard across the face. “Howdareyou.”

The slap barely moved his head at all, and his mouth curls into a cruel grin. “Get your fucking clothes off right now and wash that filth off you.”

“Or what?” I counter, hands on my hips.

His hands slam against the wall either side of me, and I suppress a shriek. There’s no way I’m letting this guy know I’m scared of him. I stick my chin out defiantly as he leers down at me.

“You wash right now, or I go back and divest your little boyfriend of his head.”

I gasp, shrinking away from him as much as I can. “You fucking psycho. You’re not allowed to do that.”

“Try me.” He yanks on the tap beside us, and a stream of water cascades down onto the floor. He takes a few steps back from me, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now. Clothes off. Wash.”

I glare at him for a moment, before stripping off my sticky clothes and throwing them at his feet. I want to turn my back to him to shield my body from him, but the idea of turning my back to this unhinged asshole makes me shiver. No way am I taking my eyes off him.

I wash myself under his gaze, lathering myself up with soap twice over just to make sure I’m clean enough for him. I shut the water off, and brattily raise my eyebrows at him as I squeeze the water from my hair.

“And? Am I clean enough?”

He tilts his head, looking me up and down. He inhales through his nose, huffing out a heavy breath through his mouth, and his eyes meet mine. My mouth runs a little dry as I wonder if he was the creepy asshole that sniffed me out the other night, and the thought makes heat rise in my cheeks.

“Well?”

He runs his tongue over his teeth, pausing to probe the tip of one of his fangs. “Much better.”

“Great.” I run my fingers through my hair. “As long as you’re happy.”

“What’s your name?”

The question takes me by surprise. “Wh-what?”They never ask us our names. We’re numbers, nothing but numbers. I don’t even know if they know our names at all.

“Your name.” He says it slowly, still staring at my face.

I scoff, tearing a towel from the wall. “Like you care.”

“I asked you your name.”

I shrug, not meeting his eyes as I dry my hair with the towel. “Bloodbag 4211487.”

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