Shaking my head, I forced my hand back down to the back of her knees, trying not to think of the silky skin beneath. I half-stumbled along the corridor into a nearby room to find a half eaten mattress in the far corner, under an old sink.
Tripping across the room; I lay Amy down as reverently as I could and checked the pencil one last time, pushing it firmly in. Then, I shut the curtains and did my best to move the remains of a wardrobe over them to avoid a draft blowing them open. Panting, I moved on to the door and was satisfied to discover that, not only was the lock fully functional, the old key was still in it. I gave it an experimental twist before tugging it out and pocketing it. Back to work…
Slowly, I sifted through the house finding old nails and planks; an iron mug would do for a hammer, old cloth, firewood, a rusty kitchen knife… bit by bit, I scavenged the entire building. Then, making my way slowly up the stairs, I tried hard to organise my thoughts into a semblance of unity.
Whistling half-heartedly, I sat at the foot of Amy’s makeshift bed and picked through the firewood to find a suitable piece: the remains of a yew chair leg. Taking the old kitchen knife in one hand and the half-burnt chair leg in the other, I started to whittle it down to a workable stake, smoothing the edges as much as I could before moving on. Taking the old mug, I nailed a solid plank over the inside keyhole; it’s amazing how quickly you can learn to pick a lock if you want out.
Now came the hard part, taking the stake in one hand, I turned to look at Amy’s prone form. The tattered shirt still open to reveal her breasts’ smooth forms, her skirt slipped up to her knee and her hands cradling her head; she looked asleep. Her auburn locks spread like blood on the old grey mattress. Only the slight bruises of our fight and the wet marks of blood and rain reminded me of what she was, had become. I wondered for a moment whether maybe they were always like that inside, whether all the sire did was free a potential truth… scary thought. Scary Amy. I stepped up to the mattress and crouched to her, cradling her body to me as I shifted her off, and dropping her on the carpet. I picked through the cloths for ones that were relatively clean and made the bed as best I could, tying knots at the corners for the ‘sheets’ to stay on. Then I shifted little Amy back onto the fresher cot. Very scary Amy…
Taking a deep breath, I leant in to take hold of my pencil, and checked my grip on the stake. One…Two…With a groan, I tugged the pencil out of her perfect breast, a string of blood following it… Immediately, she stretched out, yawning. The stake was almost touching her skin when she threw her hand up and sent it skittering across the floor. Three?
Without a single word this time, she snarled and threw herself at me, pinning me to the floor. Amy’s beautiful features twisting into a horrible grin to reveal a beautiful set of ivory fangs… Oh, shit. Slowly, almost tantalizing, she dipped her head beside mine and kissed me gently in the neck. Had a growl not escaped her then, I would almost have kissed her back. As it was, I made a last desperate lunge for the stake, pushing all my being into that one final movement. Inch by inch, so slowly it seemed like a thousand years, I saw my fingers soar across the floor and close unevenly around the smooth wood. Then, twisting my entire body under hers, I curled up around her and found myself sitting squarely on her stomach. Without daring to glance down, I thrust the stake though the hole in her bra as hard as I could… and prayed. She thrashed and threw for a few seconds and I thought I had missed somehow, but then her body relaxed into torpor once again. With a long sigh, I collapsed and fell asleep in the arms of the monster.