You keep pressure on the wound

You sister rushes out of the bathroom.

“Damn, the phone has been torn from the wall, I’ll be back in a minute” she screams leaving the cabin.

The girl looks at you. Her skin is so pale, almost as pale as the staff’s. A white veil covers her eyes, she seems so far away. Her body is periodically overtaken by spasms. You move to take her head under your arm.

“Don’t worry,” you whisper combing her hair with your fingers, “help is on the way.”

Minutes pass slowly. The blood is now soaking the towel on the wound. After a while the girl’s breath becomes jerky. She closes her eyes, a faint moan passes her lips and her head falls on her chest.

Panicked you let go of the towel, the blood is not pouring from the wound anymore. You slap her, shake her but you get no reaction. She has died. Powerless you hold her hard trying to give her some of your life. Deep down you know it’s too late. As gently as you can you close her eyes and let her head rest on the cold bathtub plastic.

It is the first time in your life that someone dies in your arms. Actually it’s the first time in your life you see a dead body. You’re revolted, not so much by the lifeless shell the girl’s corpse has become but more by the fact that just a few seconds ago she was a student looking to catch a break from the tediousness of existence, just like you. And because of an accident you cannot explain she is no more. All those hopes and promises are lost. All that is left is this cold dislocated doll. All that she will leave behind is emptiness and sorrow to the ones she loved and who loved her back.

Cursing against your sister for not coming back, you stand and stumble through the room. You fall on a large armchair covered with the poor girls clothes.

You start to cry.

Suddenly you hear a noise coming from the bathroom. You look up. The girl is in the doorway, she seems lost. Her naked body is terribly pale and her leg is covered in dried blood but she seems more alive than ever. You can’t withhold a cry of relief. Sobbing, you laugh. She’s now looking at you tilting her head to the side.

“Thank god you’re all right” you say trying to shake the awkward sensation her intense look has on you.

“Am I?” she asks you.

Her answer is clearly a question not some sort of smart ass answer. She observes her hands.

“I must be…” she says making fists several times as If she had pins and needles in her fingers.

She smiles at you, her eyes filled with lust. The look as well as her nudity makes you uncomfortable. You grab a towel on the bed and put it around her shoulders. With a deft motion of her fingers she grabs your wrist. Her touch is terribly cold. You shiver.

You shiver not only because of the temperature of her hand but also because her head has tilted again and she’s looking at you wrist with a strange intensity. You try to pull your hand out of her grip but she doesn’t let you. Her hand feels like a metallic vise. She presses her lips against your wrist, her eyes close, she inhales.

“You smell so good” she mumbles as her lips part.

A painful stab in your wrist makes you scream. You manage to free yourself. Your hand is coveredby blood. Where her lips were, you can see a pair of puncture wounds not unlike the ones she had on her thigh.

Your first instinct is to scream again but as you open your mouth you realize that it’s absolutely not what you want to do. What you desire most actually is to give your wrist again to the girl so she can resume drinking your blood. Her lips are again on your wound and you feel overwhelmed by a powerful tide of sensual desire. Slowly as your skin around the girl’s avid lips turns pale, color comes back to her cheeks and face. Beyond the **** pleasure her kiss forces through your body you feel overwhelmed by love for this poor hungry girl. With your free hand you start combing her hair. She looks at you purring.
She releases you but only to pull you closer to her wrapping her lips on the base of your neck.

You surrender to her; you surrender to the most powerful orgasm of your life.