Dark story of rage, with a twist....
The argument, when it came, was sudden and intense.
We were stood in the kitchen, my back to the counter, facing her. She was stood in the middle of the floor, on terracotta tiles, the grout cracking, a stain from some spilled sauce.
Her expression one of anger, loathing, contempt. Her stance was aggressive. Chin jutted out, hands on hips, leaning forwards.
She'd said something, I missed the words, but the meaning was clear. It was my responsibility, and I'd shirked it.
Black resentment and red anger welled up and mingled. I felt my heart slow, my vision blur, my muscles tense.
Her voice dimmed and distorted, as if from down a long hallway, my focus cleared and I watched her neck as she spoke. Saw, with incredible clarity, each and every expansion and contraction. Saw the hairs move slightly as the artery pulsed.
Vampires change in a second. A tick and a tock. By the time the tick has finished, a relatively regular-seeming human has pretty much turned all the way. By the time tock starts, you'd better have a fucking good head start.
Head thrown back, a silent scream building from my gut, past my lungs, dying in my throat. We didn't like to draw attention to ourselves. An evolutionary thing, scares away the prey. But it's hard suppressing the desire to scream completely as every sinew and fibre tightens, the heart stops fully, the internal fluids and organs switch polarity from normal to undead. Tears of clear blood burst forth, the vision clears, teeth lengthen.
I step forward, still intent on drinking from my beloved, but she defies me even now. The uttered word which brings forth her shield. I recoil.
The change reverses. I can't compete with the protective force I myself gave her.
Sinews and fibres loosen, teeth shorten, my heart starts again.
I reach behind me and my fingers close around the scouring brush.
I take a breath.
"Alright!..... I'll do the fucking washing up."