Page 5 of Hunting for Redemption

CHAPTER TWO

JEFF

Pain.

Pain is all I know. My lungs are searing, screaming for air. My chest is too tight. My brain is rearranging itself until I don’t even know who I am anymore. My throat is burning like I’ve swallowed hot coals. I can’t do this.

And yet, I know without a doubt that I am completely and utterly still. I’m in the void, drifting featherless while agony becomes all I know.

One moment, I am dying. The next, I am dead.

But death doesn’t seem to be the end. I don’t understand. I should be nothing. This should be the end of the road. But I know there’s more to come.

My senses start to come back to me. The first, being my sense of smell. Something in the room smells downright divine. It’s lulling me. There’s still chaos going on inside of me but as long as I can focus on that smell, I know I’ll be okay. I know I can get through this. The smell reminds me of fresh rain. It makes me wanna sit next to a window and watch as it drips down. It makes me want to sink back into warmth.

The next sense that comes back is touch. I can feel myself on a soft couch. I can feel it beneath me. But I can also feel that I am cold. Am I dead after all? Is this a final dream? Why am I so cold if I’m truly still alive?

Next is my sense of taste. Gods, I wish it wouldn’t have come back. I just barely keep myself from gagging as the taste of copper fills my mouth. I want to spit it out but keep myself completely still, not really knowing if my body will even cooperate if I ask it to move.

Fuck. What the fuck is going on? I know I’m here, present in my body but my body doesn’t quite feel like my own. I feel different. I feel stronger somehow. I feel more connected to it while somehow also feeling completely disconnected.

I try to clench my fist and I think it responds. I swallow thickly, realizing with a start that I’m parched. I need something to drink.

Blood.

No. What the fuck? That’s disgusting. And yet, the thought of blood makes my mouth start to water. It’s what my body is craving. It’s what my body needs.

Oh gods.

I twitch my hand again and this time it responds the way I want it to. I flex my fingers, making a fist before relaxing again. Okay. I can do this. I’m in control. This is still my body.

I’m not breathing. My heart is not beating. Yet I am alive. Fuck. The realization washes over me all at once and my eyes prickle with tears I’m not even sure I have. I force myself to slowly suck in a breath and it feels wrong, my lungs not truly needing it but wanting it anyways just so I can breathe in that beautiful scent surrounding me.

Finally, I open my eyes.

There’s a man sitting beside me. He’s watching me. My hearing comes back to me and it’s heightened. I can hear the buzzing of the fridge, the sounds of someone in the apartment over snoring, the sound of the wind outside. Fuck, it’s too much all at once and all I wanna do is shut it off but I can’t because this is my fucking life now. I just barely keep myself from covering my ears with my hands, wanting everything to stop.

“Hey.”

The voice startles me and my body tenses. My eyes snap up to meet this man’s. The look he gives me is soft and it makes me fucking ache in a way I don’t understand.

“You’re okay,” he whispers, trying to soothe me but I don’t deserve it. I shake my head and look away, unable to handle the gentleness in his eyes. “You are. Everything is overwhelming right now but it’ll be okay. I promise.”

I lick my lips, trying to get my mouth to cooperate and talk back. But everything is too dry, too parched. “Thirsty,” I just barely get out before I’m choking on nothing, my throat burning.

“I’ve got something for you but I need you to try to drink slowly. I don’t want you to choke or get overwhelmed, okay?”

I nod my head in understanding. The man readjusts, his movements slow and calculated. I’m sure he’s trying not to spook me. Normally I would scoff at the idea. I’m a hunter for fuck’s sake, but right now I feel on edge, ready to bolt at the simplest things.

“Here,” he whispers, pulling a bag from behind his back. My body locks up and my eyes focus on the red liquid inside the bag. Fuck. I’ve never wanted something as much as I want that bag right now.

With speed I didn’t even know I was capable of, I grab the bag from his hand, jumping over the back of the couch. I squat down behind it, hiding myself as I tear into the bag with my teeth, sucking the liquid out of it with haste.

Fuck. Holy shit. As the blood finds my mouth, I let out a deep sigh. This is the most delicious thing I’ve ever drank in my entire life. Perfectly done steak? Ice cream? Hot lava cake? None of those things compare to the taste of this blood. I could just drink and drink and drink forever.

But that’s a problem, right?

Why would that be a problem again?

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