The Last Supper – by Blackswan Rose

I was at Aura’s place again, this time with my boyfriend and hers. I asked her again in private if she was ready to feed. Again, she said no. I sighed. Things had been tense between her and I ever since she vamped out a few weeks earlier, when I’d refused to feed her because we were both drunk. She’d declined to feed since then, despite my offering, maybe to punish herself for vamping out like that, maybe to keep our friendship as “normal” as possible.

A few days after the incident, I drove to Aura’s place after work with a bottle of wine and stuff for her feed in my bag. She was very tired, very overworked. We drank and talked, while she replied to work emails on her laptop, and I played with her kittens. I left the room to feed the cats, and when I came back, she’d fallen asleep on her bed. I hadn’t realized until then how badly she’d needed to feed.

“You need a feed” I said, half to Aura, half to myself. I got a towel from the bathroom and washed two spoons. I laid them on the bed next to her, and got my blades and bandages from my bag. “Aura, wake up” I said. No reply.

I poured myself another glass of wine, so I’d bleed more quickly. I climbed onto the bed next to her, placed a wad of tissue paper under my leg, and unwrapped a blade. I shook Aura, and said, “Wake up, it’s feedy time.”

She rolled over without opening her eyes. I usually feed Aura from my right leg – the scars on my right thigh aren’t as extensive. I fed her from my left leg that night. It was easier to leave her lying like she was than to try to persuade her to sit up. I knelt on the towel with the blade poised above my skin. I wanted to bleed freely enough to give her a good feed.

I cast my mind back to the things that make me want to slice my skin into ribbons: leaving home without saying goodbye to old friends, getting morbidly drunk at a club and catching a lift home with a stranger, my boyfriend’s mother staring in horror at my arms. My ex, telling me I cut for the attention. It was that thought which finally spurred me into action. The new blade pierced my skin as easily as if it were tissue paper. I held the spoon to my leg and scooped up the droplets. I looked at Aura. Her eyes were still closed.

“Dude, drink up.” I poked her arm. After an eternity, she lifted her head and held out her hand. I breathed a sigh of relief. She was accepting my blood. I never remember much of the actual feed, the case is so with this one. I remember the feed being cleaner than usual – no frantic scrubbing of tiles and walls, just me mopping up the mess from the blood with wads of tissue. I remember my hands being so sticky. Her face and hands were too.

I sms’d her the next day: you feeling better? Her reply: feeling fantastic! Once again, like every time I feed her, I feel a deep satisfaction at being her swan.

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About Octarine Valur

Octarine Valur - Founder: House Valur, South African Vampyre Community, South African Vampi(y)re Alliance (SAVA), SA Vampyre news (SAVN). View all posts by Octarine Valur

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