Page 21 of Bitten Vampire
To shut me up, the stranger slams me against a wall. Once. Twice. The hand tangled in my hair slides to my throat, and a sharp fingernail pricks beneath my chin.He has claws.
“Look what you made me do,” he growls, fangs bared. When he grabbed me, sunlight had touched his arm, the skin had blackened, and the truth hits me: avampireawake in daylight.
I avert my eyes; strong vampires can steal your will if you meet their gaze. He doesn’t bother. He wrenches my head to the side and sinks his teeth into my neck.
It hurts!
I strike out—my first punch ever—and his head jerks to the side. For a heartbeat, I think my hit will stop him. It does not.Silly, Winifred.
The only sound is obscene slurping.
The room whirls.
Then everything goes black.
Chapter Nine
I awaken in darkness,lying on something lumpy that digs into my spine. It reeks of rot, making me gag. I slide my left arm out until my hand meets a wall; it thuds hollow under my palm. Plastic? A coffin? Have I died?
With my right hand, I touch my throat. Pain flares. The skin is ragged, but not bleeding. My mind flashes to the red mouth, the fangs… Oh God!
Feverish and leaden, I force myself upright, bang my head and feel the ceiling shift. Not a coffin. A bin. Memory sparks: the huge bins beside the houses. And now I realise what they are for. Not to store household rubbish, but to store bodies.
Body bins sitting casually next to their houses like our green compost bins.
Surely not. That can’t be right—the authorities would notice mass killings. They must serve another purpose.
Yet the fact remains: I’m in a bin.
The vampire drank my blood and threw me away.
As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I see a limb. I’m not alone in this bin!
Heat floods my mind, emotion clawing its way up my throat. I feel this primal urge to scream. To scream and scream and scream. I clap a hand over my mouth.
Winifred, get a bloody grip. You are in a no-win situation—if you panic now, you really will be dead.Charging into the street, screaming for help, would be reckless. What if the day-walking vampire is still close?
But I want to go home.
I want to go home.
I have to get out!
I shove the lid a few inches and realise, with growing horror, that night has fallen. All the vampires are awake. I peer through the crack. A fence, a wide gate, the street beyond.
Fear mingles with numb resolve. I scramble over the rim, almost face-plant, then steady myself against the fence. The wood digs into my back as I edge to the gate. It isn’t locked. I ease it open.
Silence—only distant traffic.
I slip through, closing the gate behind me. My car waits at the kerb. Keys are in my pocket; my phone is gone, probably lost when he grabbed my hair… I whimper.Don’t think about it, Winifred. Don’t think about it now.I fight the overwhelming urge to shrink into myself and crawl to the car.
Please, let no one see me.
Head high, keys ready in my hand, I walk the same path I skipped down earlier. My filthy hair hangs in a crooked ponytail; I shake it loose to cover the bite.
Inside the car I tremble. My clothes are intact, so he must have wanted only my blood. I should change my top, pull on a jacket to hide my neck, but fear pins me to the driver’s seat. It takes every ounce of courage to start the engine.
Please, let no one see me.
