I sat in my personally favourite tree, wondering whether it really was Sam or just someone who looked exactly like him. . .talked exactly like him. . .and had the same name. . .
The more I think about it, the more unlikely it seems. But it could be possible. But I highly doubt that, I mean, it's the Shadows. There must be someone on their team who has the power to bring people back to life. Nemocracy. A dirty magic my mum always told me, a filthy way to hurt someone. It was something to stay away from.
That's why, as much as I want to, I can't see or talk with the Sam-look-alike.
'What're you doing?'
'Sitting in a tree.' I retorted, glancing at Arren who was looking at me, his hand shielding his eyes.
'You look kind of pale.'
'Oh, thanks for reminding me of my horrific English blood line.' I grunted, jumping down.
'No really, do you feel ill? Want me to take you to the infirmary?' He asked, frowning as he peered into my face.
'Nahh. I think I'm just. . .dehydrated. . .' I puffed, sliding down to the floor. My throat felt really sore. I bit my lip to distract me from the thirst that raged inside my neck, it felt like it was tearing me up from the inside.
Grimacing, I bit into my arm. Hard. I don't quite have my fangs yet, but soon. Very soon I would so when I bit myself, I had to do it painfully.
I sucked out the thick, salty liquid from within and panting. I was sweating a little and beads of it were dripping down my face.
'I think I'll go to the kitchens. . .' I mumbled, pushing Arren out of the way. He tried to follow me, but I shoved him away(with maybe a bit too much force, but I didn't see what happened to him) and sprinted towards the school kitchens. The fridge was always stocked up with fresh blood, none of it over a week old.
It was only three days until I turned fifteen. I'd just have to endure it until then. Then I would gain revenge. . .hang on . ..if the boy really was Sam, then I didn't need revenge.
I shook my head, not bothering to fill my mind with idle thoughts. Blood was a more pressing matter right now. I gasped and threw the fridge door open, grabbing some blood and gulping it down with greediness that reminded me of when I fed Garret.
Thinking of Garret, he was acting a bit fucked up these days. So polite it was almost cocky. I sighed and sat on the floor next to the fridge, blood dripping off my chin.
Endure it. Endure it.
'Who's the greedy one now?' A cool voice called out from the doorway.
'Hazel, piss off. I'm not in the mood.' I muttered, placing a hand on my forehead.
'Hah. So now you know what it feels like. To me honest, I think you should have been a protector with all that unneeded strength.' Hazel sniped.
'What’s up with you? You seem all. . .' I paused for the right word, 'angry. Which is unusual for air heads like yourself.' I replied. Satisfied with my answer.
She glared at me before, much to my horror, she started crying.