And now I drink blood.

((You can rant all you want. Unless you're implying something else...))
((UI'm sorry, I was going to write this as a book, and that's why the plot is so confusing. It's supose to have suspense, but in RP's that's a bit difficult.))
I let out a breath. "I'm sorry. This is really difficult for me..." How was I suppose to tell her that every time we got close, I could smell her blood?

((Alright.))

"It's fine." I jumped back on my bed and laid down on my back.

I closed my eyes and slid to the floor.

I watched him.

((I'm not implying anything, I just don't like getting angry at my friends because I'm usually to stubborn to apologize, then I'm left feeling like a jerkwad!))

I looked back up at her and smiled. I wanted so bad to get close...
((Ok. sounds good.))

I watched him, my smile turning into a small smirk. "In case you don't know, you are free to come closer. There's no sunlight over here."

"I know..." I breathed out again. "How do I put this tactfully..." I sighed. "Every time we get almost close enough, I get an insatiable urge to take a literal taste of you."

I hummed a bit, processing that thought. "Oddly enough, that doesn't scare me."

I cleared my throat. "You're saying that you're not scared of me digging my teeth into your neck, paralysing you with deadly venom faster than your eye can see, then sucking your blood out till I've had my fill?"

I shrugged. "Call me morbid, but I'm not scared of you. I'm not scared of the thought either. I guess I just don't care if you do."

I chuckled. "Guess I'm not the only depressed, suicidal one in this room, eh?"

I shrugged again and looked at my arms, my wrists. I've always had prominate veins on my wrists, and I thought it was cool to imagine them light up like some superhero. But now, I just didn't care at all.

I walked over to her, ignoring the fact of what would happen. I showed her my wrists. "You see this?" I pointed to the scars covering the insides of my forearms.

I gently grabbed his wrists and pulled him closer. Not to kiss him, but to pull him closer. It was just a coincidence our lips were mere inches apart.

"This is what became of me not controlling my..." our eyes locked, and I felt the warmth of her hands on my wrists. I heard her heartbeat, and heard her blood flowing throughout her body. "Self..." I leaned forward and pressed my lips to hers. Venom flowed from my fangs to her tongue, and I slowly brought my mouth down to her neck. I kissed it slowly, then blurred. I wasn't thinking. My mind was blank, and my actions were guided purely by lust, craving and instinct. My fangs pierced her skin, and her blood flowed up through grooves in the teeth. I drank, gulping the red, metallic life-blood from her neck.

I didn't do anything until he started taking my blood. I moved my hands to his shoulders and tried to push him away, but I was already weak from the blood loss. "Stop..." I whispered, becoming more and more dizzy by the second. I rested my hands on his shoulders and closed my eyes.

I heard her soft whisper. She was weak. The venom hadn't paralysed her, due to her altered biology, but there was no way she could push me away... the predator in me told me to keep going. Drink till I'd had my fill, which required more than just one little girl. But something stronger than instinct pushed me away. My emotions that had drawn me to her before now pushed me away. I struggled against myself, digging my claws into my palms and falling backwards, blood dripping off my chin and onto my white shirt. "I'm... I'm so sorry... So..." I let out an agonized yell, gripping my hair and doubling over. I needed to help her, but there was nothing I could do. If I got close again, I would be forced by instinct to bite, and then I wouldn't be able to stop.

I fell back into my bed. I wanted to move, I wanted to comfort him, despite what he just did, but it hurt me to see him beat himself up. It was my fault. I got too close, I practically threw myself at him. "Get help," I groaned, closing my eyes again. Sleep sounded good right now.

I growled and started for the door, but before I could do anything, Pete burst in, throwing the door off its hinges. He threw me to the wall and webbed me before I could even understand what was going on. He rushed to Caroline and slapped her cheeks. "Wake up, wake up. Don't be falling asleep on the job, now." He removed his cotton jacket and pushed it against her neck, webbing it on firmly. "Stay awake, else you might just lose your position," he webbed it over again, "And we wouldn't want that, would we?"

I kept my eyes open. "Po...sit...ion?" I strained to keep them open. "Wha?"

"Well, you're the janitor, aren't you? Gotta keep your heart beating, your lungs breathing, and your brain thinking, every day, am I right? Strenuous work. Especially feuling the machine. Fall asleep during a gas leak, though, and you won't be able to start this thing up again! You'll be gonzo! And that would obviously be a terrible thing. You'd be out of house and home!"
Pete's ability to remain so calm in such high duress situations always puzzled me. Especially when he threw in his annoying humor.

"Janitor? I don't want to be a janitor, Dad, I want to be an artist." I don't know when my dad had gotten here, but nothing had changed. He didn't understand me, he didn't want me doing what I wanted to do. He didn't want me wasting my time on art.
I didn't want to have this argument, though. There was one thing I never told him, and I regretted it. I needed to tell him.

"An artist?" Pete said, playing along. "Well, that's the thing; you are an artist. Every single day, operating this beautiful, sophisticated machine. Every day keeping it running, always alive, always thinking..." He softly felt her pulse, "Always you. And you can be whatever you need to, so long as it is clean and worthy in our father's eyes."

"It is Dad, I promise. I need to tell you, something, though. Fix the water heater, so you don't..." I looked away. "Just fix it. I also met a nice guy today. I'm not alone anymore, Dad, I found a friend." I started to close my eyes again. "He's nice," I whispered.