6. Resolve

The next few days pass by somewhat uneventfully. It's not until your sixth day at the hospital that something inexplicably shifts. It's almost as if you've been struck by a hunger. Though one you cannot explain and are sure cannot be satiated by even the finest food, drink, nor pleasure. It started off as a small whisper but over time has quickly turned into a loud roar. Each day after is spent in an uncomfortable heat, though you're no longer sure a fever can be blamed for it. In addition, the pain in your body seems to be increasing each day. Unfortunately, every time you mention this to the Doctor you're met with notes of surprise if not straight out skepticism. This is typically followed by a temporary uppage of your medication dosage. However, it is far from ideal as the medication does little to clear the pain and leaves you feeling in a state of confusion. Eventually, you cease mentioning the discomfort in an effort to keep the dosage low.

The Doctor continues checking your eye daily. However, thankfully, he's refrained from any strange behavior. Regardless of any questioning, you remain unable to see anything clearly out of it. The pain surrounding the eye has at least subsided somewhat. Though, relocated is a more accurate description. The throbbing pain now appears to reside in the lower half of your abdomen. This new discomfort has made it increasingly difficult to keep food down. Not to mention the fact it all has a slightly rancid taste to it. Typical shitty hospital grub, you figure it's a wonder anyone makes it out of here alive.

The morning of the twelfth day, you find yourself feeling particularly ill. Upon placing a hand on your torso, you swear you feel it pulsating. Your skin feels sallow and uncharacteristically clammy. Even though there's an IV providing you with all the needed fluids, you feel inexplicably dry. Reaching for the cup beside your bed, you hastily bring it to your lips. A moment later you're **** the contents back out. What appears to be normal water spills out the sides of your mouth. Though it does not taste anything like water. Instead, a sour, almost painfully acidic taste has filled your mouth. Wincing, you quickly wipe the liquid from your face. Your stomach turns with a mix of pain and hunger. Sighing softly, you resign yourself to your miserable state. This mindset progresses until sometime in the evening. You've just been served some unappetizing looking slop when the door to your room is suddenly flung open.

"Get him in there." A Doctor is ordering loudly as a stretcher is wheeled in.

"What's going on?" You question frantically, trying to get a better look at the patient.

"We've run out of room." A nurse quickly explains as she tries to pull the room divider closed. "There was a boating accident, a lot of people got hurt."

Your eyes widen in surprise, looking past the nurse who eventually gives up trying to **** the divider closed. A young man is laid across the stretcher, his shirt ripped and completely soaked in blood. Sitting up further, you can't help watching with a mix of intrigue and horror as the rest of his shirt is cut away, revealing the extent of his wounds. A large gash has been cut across his chest, perhaps from a boat propeller. Large streams of blood pour down the side of the chest and pool at the surface below. Somewhat subconsciously, you lick your lips. Something about the sight of the man, damaged as he may be, peaks your interest. The hot burning desire deep within returns tenfold. Biting your lip, you watch anxiously as Doctors begin performing on the man. Thankfully, Doctor Underwood is nowhere in sight, presumably working on other patients. Those present appear to be struggling however. Blood squirts across the room as they rush to suppress the bleeding.

Unable to tear your eyes away, you remain focused on the viscera in front of you. Eventually, with the aid of several nurses, the Doctors are successful in suturing the massive wound. Once the man appears stable, they quickly exit the room. The sound of the door closing echoing loudly behind them. There must be a significant amount of patients to attend to given the state they've left this man in. Fresh blood is still splattered across his youthful face and cropped, curly auburn hair. You suspect he's not far past his early twenties. Given several of his exposed tattoos, you surmise he is or was in the service. Your eyes continue to drift down his form, taking in his blood stained physique. The ache within you stirs deeper, encouraging you to take action. Breathlessly, you step out of bed and approach the man. His chest is rising and falling deeply with each breath, his eyes are closed in a fast slumber. Though, based on the movement beneath his eyelids it's far from peaceful.

Somewhat trepidatiously, you reach a hand out toward his form. His skin is unnaturally warm, no doubt the result of a fast acting fever. Frowning softly, you continue tracing your hand down along his torso. He smells inexplicably delicious, like a mix of the sea, smoke, and metal. Inhaling deeply, you let the scent of blood and salt water invade your lungs. For some reason this elicits a growl from your midsection. Biting your lip again, you look down at the man with a mix of confusion and desire. You're irrationally hungry, as well as some other emotion that you can't quite lay a finger on. Leaning down closer, you all but bury your face into the man's chest. As you continue to take in the scent, so does the uncomfortable feeling over take you. Groaning softly, you press the side of your face against his bare skin. Its warmth is both inviting and alarming. You're certain his temperature is cause for alarm and in need of immediate assistance. Still, you find you cannot pull yourself away from the man. The rise and fall of your chest matches his as your breath grows heavy. Unable to contain yourself, you tentatively slide your tongue across his skin. Initially, you're met with the salty taste of sweat. However, it's not long before your tongue encounters the distinct metallic taste of blood.

It's as if a new sense has been awakened inside of you. Eyes widen in primal instinct and desire. All at once your tongue is all over him, lapping at every bloody drop it can find. As you greedily lick at the last bit, you find that it isn't enough. Breathing deeply, you quickly pull away. The man's eyes are still darting around frantically beneath their lids. He's no doubt still in the throws of his increasing fever. Unfortunately, you're paralyzed from your strange emotion. The pounding in your head and gut return at full **** as you try contemplating your decision. Your eyes lazily rake over the man's form as you think, settling on the portion just above his clavicle. There's something so enticing about his smooth, flushed skin. You can tell his blood pressure is high based on the throbbing vein visible on the side of his neck.

Licking your lips again, you feel all sense and reason begin to leave you. Running your hand back up along his chest, your fingertips stop just below his jugular. There's a moment's hesitation before you instinctively strike. Your teeth pierce into his skin like teeth breaking the skin of an apple. A delicious rush of warm blood quickly rushes down your throat. Your eyes roll back as renewed strength and vigor follow. Though the taste is metallic, it's also sweet and dry. Not unlike a fine, red wine. Quickly forgetting what it is you're drinking, you continue your purchase. All thoughts around you fade as your teeth sink deeper into the man's neck.

"Stop, you'll go too far!"

The muffled sound of a voice barely registers sometime later, before you're forcefully pulled away. Warm liquid spills down the sides of your mouth and splatters against your chest. Swallowing nervously, you look up at your opposer. Doctor Underwood's deep blue eyes stare back down at you darkly. Some sense of realization begins to creep in as you recall exactly what it is that you've done.

"Doctor, I-"

You're quickly cut off as the Doctor roughly pushes you away. Turning around, he manages to **** the difficult divider across the room. He pauses for a moment before moving back to face you.

"Look at you." He sneers, reaching a hand up to wipe blood from your chin. "What a mess."

"I'm sorry." You sniffle honestly, completely appalled by the sight before you. "I don't know what came over me."

Doctor Underwood casts you a somewhat skeptical glance before moving over to examine the man. You watch anxiously, still trying to wipe away the linger stench of his blood from your face. After a few minutes the Doctor turns back to face you. The slightly annoyed look on his face is rather unexpected.

"It is as I feared, you went too far." He states brusquely. "Now you have to finish the job."

"Finish the job?" You repeat dazily, still trying to mentally rationalize your actions.

"You heard me." The Doctor tuts before grabbing one of your wrists and pulling you forward. "We can't have two people turning, so finish the job."

"What are you talking about?" You demand helplessly.

"So, the one who turned you really didn't tell you anything. Interesting." He muses to himself for a moment before seeming to snap back to reality. "Look, you need to finish what you were doing so this guy doesn't make it."

"What?" You exclaim, taking a step back. "What do you mean 'doesn't make it'?"

The Doctor sighs in frustration before pulling you towards him again. Your gasps of protest fall on deaf ears as your face is **** back down towards the **** man's neck. The intoxicating scent invades your senses once more. Trying to fight off your urges, you attempt to turn your face away from the man.

"Don't fight it." The Doctor coos in your ear, moving to stand behind you. "You know it is what you desire, or dare I say, need."

Another groan forces its way from your throat as the taste of blood reaches your lips. All at once your body feels as flushed as the one beneath you. You still feel ravenously hungry and only for one thing. The Doctor pushes you down further, causing more of his body to press against you. It's an odd feeling, being trapped between an alive man and one who is dying. You suppose you ought to be ashamed that the situation excites you.

"Don't delay." His voice melts into your mind as you're faced with your dilemma.

The thought of willfully taking someone's life is not one that had occurred to you before. However, you are _so _hungry. You know well enough that with enough blood loss this man will not survive the night and you've already taken a great deal of it.