The police woman is still talking, telling me I have to remember, rambling about finding two bodies in the apartment. Of course. One of them is Angelina, and one of them is one of Jesse's buddies that he brought along.
What, you thought I was going down without a fight?
"We need your help," she pleads and I glance at her, before fixing my gaze back on the ceiling tile things. They have little grey spots on them, kinda speckley. I've been making patterns out of them for the last five minutes.
"I can't help," I half whisper.
"You can, you must know something." She insists. This pisses me off. The heart monitor tells them that before I even react.
"I don't know anything!" I shout, pushing myself half up before remembering that moving too much tugs on those drip feeds. I let myself slump back into the bed, breathing heavily. The nurse guy is hovering in my peripheral looking all concerned and the police woman looks a bit alarmed.
"Okay. Tell you what, I'll give you some time to think and remember what happened, and I'll come back in an hour or so, yeah?"
"No." I bluntly disagree. I don't care what she wants to know, she isn't gonna find out. At least not from me. There's no way you can put a logical explanation to what I have to say, and the truth isn't something they will believe.
And to be honest, I'm more concerned with the fact that I was fighting a bunch of hungry vampires.
I really hope none of them decided to snack on me. Eugh.
Or leave any of their venom in my wounds...
The heart monitor goes crazy again and my fists tighten as I consider the possibility. The nurse guy did say my heart stopped in the night.
The possibility of them having turned me into one of them is too strong and the idea of it all too hateable.
At least, it's hateable enough to have made me a vampire hunter.
Crap, crap, crap.
They can't have changed me.
I'm being paranoid, right?
It's just my... imagination, or something.
I feel like I'm hyperventilating.
I probably am.
The nurse guy tells the police women to leave and picked something up, fiddling with the drip feeds, twitching it uncomfortably in my arm, but then the morphine bliss reclaims me and I don't care anymore.