#sevika!vampire

Sevika met you two months after her last roommate moved out. Two long, dreadful months of searching for another person to help ease the few hundred that it costed each month to fund the two bedroom flat.

She ruled out the ones who asked too many questions, and then the ones who asked no questions at all. The ones who swabbed their finger across the clean counter, scrunching their nose up and humming before saying, "Sure, it's not too bad. So how much?"

The loud ones were the worst, chewing on an unknown brand of cheesy crisps, spilling crumbs onto the carpet she had actually made an effort to hoover prior to their arrival. The quiet ones weren't much better, borderline creepy, nodding and quietly shuffling behind her, peaking their way too curious head around her slightly ajar door, trying to get to a look of her room which she specifically left out of the tour. All of them a big fat nope. Oh, and definitely not the ones who took their shoes off at the door, they didn't live there yet, don't make yourself at home.

Sevika gathered she had some.. unrealistic bordering on slightly ridiculous standards that no one could meet but after her last roommate, anything was possible.

And then you came knocking on the door, where she was so overwhelmed with the amount of outright freaks that seemed to want the flat so badly, that she forgot she even had a showing to do.

When she opened the door, she couldn't conceal her confusion.

“Hi?" She said slowly.. her eyebrows furrowing harshly.

"I'm here for the showing?" You answered back with the same amount of animosity and confusion.

You said your name quietly.

Once she had processed who you were, she wasn't feeling any less overwhelmed. You were painfully pretty, a little younger if she made the bold choice of assuming and she quickly put it to the back of her mind. It didn't matter. Unimportant. You tapped manicured nails against the door frame, briefly stretching your fingers to admire the undeniably nice pink colour painted on them.

"Is there a problem?" You asked.

She was taken aback by your bluntness and scoffed, stepping to the side for you to come in.

"No problem at all."

You walked in slowly, taking in the simplicity and overall boringness of the living room. There was a decently sized dark blue sofa, complimented by a dark oak coffee table and a few fake plants in the corner. There was a small rug in the empty space, a mosaic pattern. The tv was hanging up on the wall, too small to be proudly shown off like that. She wavered her hands to the sofa and mumbled,

"This is the living room."

"Really?"

You smiled sarcastically and she stared blankly, unamused. Pretty, but bitchy. She turned around and quickly walked to the kitchen, wanting this to be over as soon as possible.

"Kitchen."

"You're not very good at this," you laughed.

You put your elbows against the island and leaned into them, raising your eyebrows and attempting a light smile.

"There's not really much to see. It's a two bedroom, two baths with a very self explanatory kitchen and living room. We don't share a bathroom and your room has a balcony."

"See! That's better. You're a natural."

You really smiled this time, before winking and drumming your hand against the wood. She smiled back, and for a split second she thought maybe this wasn't too bad.

"Let's see the bedroom then."

She guided you to the other room which was in all honesty a lot nicer than hers.

"Oh shit, it's nice."

Big windows and patterned curtains, a few shelves, a wardrobe and a double bed opposite the view. You walked in briskly, skimming around the room and plopping down onto the bed.

"Bed's nice." She nodded lazily and tried her robotic sale pitch of the room.

"It faces the window and at night the views even nicer. Good if you smoke too."

"So much passion in your voice, seriously, you're selling it to me."

She rolled her eyes and looked back as you fiddled for a pack.

"Want one?" You briefly paused before remembering the distinct smell of room spray and smoke that warmed the flat when you arrived.

"I don't why I asked, it smells awful in here."

You passed her a cigarette and let her light hers first, before doing your own and sinking back into the bed.

"What about the balcony?" She shook her head, she didn’t have any showings booked after you, she’d exhausted the population of the town she lived in, and possible the next town over.

"Don't worry. I'll air it out after you go."

The two of you smoked in almost silence, the crackle of pulls being the only sound in the room. It wasn't awkward and she didn't want you to leave just yet. The quiet company was nice.

"There's an ash tray on the side table."

You stunned out your cigerrate and offered the tray to her.

"How're the showings going?" Your attempt at conversation was a cute effort, she didn't mind.

"They're good," she lied.

You picked at the hem of your dress and she didn't try to peel her eyes away. It was short and black and had no room for the middle of November. Your fingertips slid under the dress as you played with loose string. It was harmless, innocent and she felt like she needed another cigarette.

"Are there any good contenders?" You looked up, taking her away from the trance your thighs had put her in.

"Sure," she lied again.

"How about me?" You leaned back on your elbows and kicked your boot against the bed frame.

"Am I a good contender?"

You smirked slightly, flirtatiously, and she chose to take it as annoying sarcasm. She laughed nervously and shrugged,

"I dunno yet."

She was trying to be polite but your constant impassive tone was making it hard to think. More bitchy than pretty. You hummed,

"I think I'm a pretty good person to live with."

She raised her eyebrow and crossed her arms.

"Sell it to me."

"Sell it to you? You're moving very fast here..." You paused, frowning.

"Sevika."

"Sevika…” You paused, seeming to take it in. It made her wary.

“Im clean but not in a weird way, I can cook but I won’t be doing it for you. I keep to myself for the most part, and if I have anyone round, it’ll be quiet.”

She laughed in disbelief at last sentence and nodded.

"Not bad, you're pretty convincing."

You put your hands up in agreement.

"I'm also great company."

She stepped forward towards the bed, and ushered for another cigarette.

"Is that right?"

"Mhm."

You beamed and passed her another one. Shallow dimples gently revealed themselves in the plush of your cheeks, which were slightly pink. Despite your boldness, you were nervous. She returned the favour, pride fuelling her grin.

Her hands touched yours briefly and she flinched, she hoped you didn't notice, her ego being taken away from her within a second. You did.

"A virgin?" You laughed and chucked her the lighter.

“Your hands are just cold."

"Is that right?"

You giggled again and this time it sounded cute, light warming, less cold than before.

"You're not great company," she muttered, taking a pull.

"Judging from the fact I've been here for half an hour I'd say otherwise."

“Such great company that when you have people over it’ll “be quiet.” Radio fucking silence.”

Your mouth dropped dramatically, and you held your free hand to your heart.

"I didn't mean like that! I was trying to be nice."

"You said what you said."

"It's not silent! I swear to God-

"No, no seriously, it's fine. I'm sure those men are enjoying the company," she chuckled.

"Men?" You squinted your eyes and shot her an offended look. She tried to hide her excited grin. Still bitchy, she told herself, still incredibly pretty.

"Sorry for assumin'."

"You should be."

"I'm sure those women, love the company."

"Are you not?" You smiled again, and she felt her stomach stir.

She didn't answer because she was scared she might give it away. She always hastily finished the tours, elated at the thought of being alone again. But it was different this time, she wanted you to stay, and talk to you more. She hadn't even finished her cigarette and she needed another one.

"Do you wanna stay for a drink?" She blurted out, immediately regretting it once shock flooded over your face and your pupils diluted. She was about to go back on her question but you beat her to it,

"Sure," you shrugged, "Why not."

She paused and couldn't help but smile, she turned away quickly so you wouldn't see.

"Come to the living room."

-

After an hour of drinking and moderately smooth conversation, you were both bordering on very tipsy.

"How comes you moved out of your last apartment?" She asked, more comfortable with the small talk questions. You took a gulp before tapping the wine glass in thought.

"My lease was up and if I'm honest my other roommates sucked. The two boys were messy and the one other girl well.. you know." You awkwardly smiled and took another gulp.

"Not fucking your roommates is like the first rule!"

"Sue me then! It gets lonely and boring and especially when it's winter, I mean God there's nothing to do!"

"Go on a dating app or to a bar."

"A bar at this time of year? You're crazy."

You moved your legs up to the sofa and your dress fell to your lap, leaving your thighs naked. Her quick glance didn't go unnoticed as she heard you giggle behind your almost empty glass. Virgin, she could hear you mentally say.

She stood up with a sigh and motioned to your glass. As you passed it to her, your legs slightly separated, making yourself more comfortable on the sofa. You laughed as you did it. She engraved her focus onto pouring you a drink without anything spilling or splashing. She wanted to kiss that knowing grin away. A few too many beads of wine swam down her shaking hands.

"I'll get it."

You jumped up before she could object and walked to the kitchen like you lived there, she ignored the fact she didn't flinch at your hands searching in her space, opening the bottom drawers to find them.

She still stood right next to the sofa, hands now dripping in the waves of sticky white wine. You managed to take the bottle from her and balance a couple napkins in her palm, before kneeling on the floor and attempting to pat it dry.

You chuckled when the paper disintegrated into white mush, and the floorboards were still just as covered as before. She however, was not laughing, and could only focus on the fact that you were perched on your knees, way more pretty than bitchy, looking like you really did live there, cleaning up a stupid mess that she made. A flutter of warmth flooded her chest, something homely and domestic, something dangerous. There was a flutter of something else too, but that didn't matter.

"You should go." She blurted out.

You looked up, with your hand still covered in the pinot-tissue-mess, hurt and confusion flashed over your face for a mere second, before you wiped your hand on leftover napkin and stood up.

"Okay."

"It's late and we've ran way over schedule and I need to clean this up," she stuttered, gulping the guilt and longing down.

"Yeah, no, I totally understand. It was so lovely meeting you, thanks for showing me around." You sounded fine, back to your usual, bubbly self. You didn't care and it hurt a tiny bit.

"I'll let you know... about the..." She faded off in a miserable attempt to talk about the flat. She needed you out the flat as quick as humanly possible.

You took your bag and coat from the door and thanked her again, shooting her a smile that she wished she hadn't seen before disappearing down the hallway.

Once she shut the door, she quickly walked to the room with the balcony, watching you get into a cab in the dark.

She wasn't stupid. She knew you'd be fine to live with, the best out of any of the people she'd had in the last two months. You had even kept your shoes on the whole time, apart from on the sofa. But she also wasn't naive, not getting any younger and that feeling wasn't something that faltered throughout the few hours you spent there. And she'd be stupid to to let you live there.

You woke up sweaty. Hair glued to the back of your neck and the back of your knees were being pried apart as you stretched your legs. You had a showing at ten, in an hour.

You wouldn't lie, it stung a little , when she ushered you out. You figure it was because you had just spilt wine all over the floorboards of someone clearly obsessed with their space. She was stand off ish at first, it almost felt like she didn't want anyone to actually move in. But when she invited you for a drink, you thought you might've actually found somewhere finally, away from the mess of your own flat. But no, you were back to square one, currently rushing to get ready for possibly your 9th showing, you didn't even know how many people needed to get new roommates, you swore you knew everyone in a one mile radius.

It was a house this time, four bedrooms and three already living there. You knew there was no chance you were going to live anywhere again with three strangers, but it didn't hurt to look at it anyways, you were far past desperate.

Before you could knock, the door swung open to an overly-eager tall man. He was blonde and cheesing when you stuck out your hand to greet him.

"Are you not cold in that top?"

Not even a hello?

His voice was hoarse and quiet and his hand was sweaty. You stifled a groan, pulled your hand back and shrugged,

"It's not too bad outside."

"Come in. Do you want anything?" He gulped.

"You're alright."

"Let me know if you change your mind, I have crisps."

You couldn't hold in your laughter and felt a tinge of regret when he looked confused and hurt, all at once.

"What's your name by the way?" You asked, hoping to mend his bruised ego.

"Adan," he sounded brighter.

"It's nice to meet you Adan."

You paused waiting for him to return the question, quickly telling him your name when you realised he was too nervous to ask.

The tour was too long and boring. You knew you weren't going to buy it, but Adan wasn't the worst company in the world. He was moderately funny and bad at flirting, it was a cute attempt.

"Thank you for showing me around anyways. Again, it was nice meeting you."

You barely heard him say you too, he was still nervous when he lead you outside.

Getting into your car, you let out a sigh of relief. He waved to you from the door and you drove off quickly. Another big fat nope. Finding a place to live was becoming increasingly difficult and you couldn't stand another second living in your current flat. The two men were loud and messy, and the woman well, she was getting significantly worse to live with. She wasn't messy but she was too clean. Like deep cleaning the sofa cracks and behind the tv twice a week sort of clean. To top it off, she made it known when she had company. They were eerily high sounds, that rang against your shared wall, which you would bang loudly to shut them up. The giggles then came next. They used to make your heart sink, and you'd spend the night at a friends. But it had been weeks, and you really didn't care anymore. You squeezed your fingers around the steering wheel, suddenly angry at the thought of seeing her when you got back. The two guys were out at work, and it was her off day.

It took under fifteen minutes to get back, despite the traffic and road rage. You could see her taking out the bins and considered staying in your car to hide. She looked at you for a brief second, before stomping the bin down on the floor and slamming the front door shut. So petty. You groaned and swore and parked your small car in front of the drive way, so she couldn't get out.

Thanking God that you remembered your keys and didn't have to shamefully ask her to let you in, you went straight to your room and slumped on the bed, scrolling through flats on your phone.

Too expensive, scarily too cheap, and five flatmates sounded like a nightmare but it was starting to look like your only option. Would it honestly be better to pretend like you wanted to find common ground? Make up with her just so you could have a place to stay again? It would only be for a few months anyways, you could stay your room and pay rent just until you found somewhere to stay. How bad would it be to live here for a little longer? You remembered the moaning and the petty things she kept doing. It would be more than bad. You sighed and flung your phone across the bed. Maybe if you slept for long enough, you'd wake up in a new house. Or back at the flat from yesterday, with that girl with the weird laugh and bad smoking habit. Maybe you'd wake up on her sofa if you asked nice enough. Anything was better than here.

A knock came after the silence you were sat in for half an hour or so. You whined, half asleep and watched the door knob slowly turn. Your vision was misty and you could feel the dried up line of spit on the side of your mouth. You've never turned away so fast.

"Were you sleeping?"

"It's late," You mumbled.

"It's four."

"Fucking hell."

"Charming as always."

"Did you come in here for something?" You spat.

"Just wanted to let you know, someone's coming round."

"Violet," you started.

You turned around and squinted.

"What?"

"You've never told me before when you have people round, why is this different?"

She sighed and took a step further into your room.

"It's not like that," She mumbled.

"Okay."

"I'm trying here."

"You've had weeks to try, why the change in spirit now?"

You were frustrated, all the built up anger and jealousy was seeping out of your skin and you were sweaty again.

"You're leaving in a couple of weeks. I don't want to be on bad terms."

You scoffed and pinched your bridge,

"So this is to make you feel better about yourself?"

"Why are you so difficult?!"

"You make it hard not to be.l you shrugged.

She sighed again and walked to your bedside table to pick up the empty glasses.

"If you wanna come and drink with us we'll be in the living room."

"Okay."

"Okay," you could hear her smile, "Move your car by the morning."

You contemplated throwing the plastic cup she missed at the door.

-

You didn't know how much time had passed before you heard the door go, followed by muffled greetings. You wished you had slept all the way through to tomorrow. There was no chance you were going to hang out with her and her friend. Her voice was lower, she didn't sound like the other friend's Jade brought over.

You'd do your makeup to get up and move your car, maybe go to the shops for some wine too. Work was booked over the weekend, so you had the weekdays to feel sorry for yourself.

The dress you picked out was short and black, and this time you put on tights to be some what weather-sensible. Black boots were a hazard in the rain that had just started but you'd be in the car anyways. Getting to the front door without having to indulge in awkward small talk was going to be a struggle, maybe you could crawl behind the sofa, maybe turn invisible for a few seconds, I mean anything is possible nowadays. You didn't want to talk to her or her friend, you needed to upkeep the careless, petty persona for now, just until Vi would grovel enough to be on "good terms."

Quietly opening the door, you heard murmurs down the hall way. Vi's short pink hair was resting on the sofa, she was leant back with a beer in her hand and you assumed her company would be sat on the armchair, facing the door. Damned small talk.

You walked quickly and mentally prepared yourself for the next two minutes.

"It's been... yeah... difficult to say the least."

How long was this hallway? Was she always talking about you?

"Hey," Vi smiled as she turned her head, probably hearing your boots clack all the way from your room.

"I got you a drink, you wanna sit down?"

You really did, it was cold outside and you could see tempting bottles of wine on the floor but you also felt a little embarrassed at the fact you were all dressed up to, get wine from the store.

"Oh and this is my friend." She wavered her hands to the body on the sofa, at a weak attempt of an introduction. You had to be nice.

"Hi!" You beamed, you spoke before you saw her.

She was leaning back against the armchair, legs apart and fiddling with a beer cap. You shuffled to stand onto the other foot.

"Hi." She looked up and her mouth slightly parted, she choked on her beer.

"Hi," she struggled to whisper. She looked shocked, and genuinely angry.

"You already said that," your voice cracked.

"Good talk," Vi said awkwardly laughed and looked between the two of you,

"Have you two met before?"

"Nope."

"No, we haven't," she sounded angry. And the eye contact was long gone. Your heart was beating out of your chest and it was bordering on a panic attack. Why was she here?

"Sit down," Vi patted the space next to her and you tried to walk with wobbly legs over.

"Wine? It's white."

You put your bag on the sofa, and let your back sink into the cushions. Nodding slowly, you grabbed the glass from her hand and sipped the cold until it numbed your throat.

"Were you going out?"

You let Vi take your glass and refill it, before answering her question.

-

"Was gonna move the car."

"That was you?" Sevika asked, looking up from the floor.

"She slammed the bins on the floor!"

She lowly laughed and took out a cigarette from her pocket.

"Very mature."

Vi chuckled and reached over to swap a cigarette for a lighter.

"People nowadays, crazy."

You swatted her leg and felt some what like this wasn't as bad as you thought.

"Tell me about it," she sighed and lit her cigarette, throwing you the pack afterwards.

This conversation was already starting to annoy you, and you actually bit your tongue to stop yourself.

"The things she's told me," Vi raised her eyebrows and laughed.

"Shut up," she gritted. A jab of jealousy poked under your ribs and you coughed to cover the distaste that your face couldn't hide.

"Do I even wanna know?"

No, you didn't.

"Violet I swear to God."

"She also calls you Violet?"

Vi sighed, shook her head and ushered her hand towards you, signalling you to shut up.

Sevika looked at Vi and pleaded, who didn't care and continued, unbothered.

"Once a girl keyed her car, could you even imagine? Another one poured milk onto her clothes. I'm telling you, people are crazy nowadays."

"Milk?" You repeated.

She hummed as rubbed her forehead in memory.

"That's creative. I'm writing it down."

"I wouldn't put it past you. You did park your car so I couldn't move."

You rolled your eyes,

"Milk is much better than that. It leaves a smell."

"You're the type she needs to stay away from. The keying car, throwing milk type," Violet laughed.

You looked at her for a response, and she found hers in another pull of the cigarette.

"Someone has to keep it interesting," you shrugged.

"Really?"

She finally answered. Her tone was the same it was last night, deeper, sultrier.

"Yeah," you croaked.

"You might be right, I can't say I don't like it."

It rolled off her tongue in such a careless manner that you propped a cigarette between your lips and kept quiet.

"Can't argue with that." Vi winked at you and you weakly smiled back, finally feeling like you two were somewhat okay again.

She got up and handed you what was left of the bottle, before slipping away to the bathroom. You weren't going to be the first one to say something.

It was silent for all of three seconds before you caved.

"How's finding a roommate going?" You chirped, smiling at Sevika.

"Seriously?"

You frowned, pretending to be confused.

"Why wouldn't I be serious?"

She stared at you blankly, before tapping the filter and pursing her lips.

"It's going fine," she said coldly.

"Have you had any more people come look at it?"

You were being polite, acting as if nothing happened, which honestly, nothing really did happen.

"It's been a day."

"So?"

"No, no one's come to look at it." She was blunt and it bothered you, but you ignored those feelings and carried on in the awful small talk.

"You'll find someone soon."

You offered a disingenuous smile, to which she shifted further back down into the seat. You took this time to really look at her. Her hair was damp and dark, tied back. Blue jeans and a black t-shirt that was tight around her arms. Your eyes lingered a second too long at the bulge of her muscles but it didn't matter, she was looking anywhere but you. The waistband hung low off her hips and you peeled your eyes away and focused on her odd socks. One polka dot and the other had a cartoon ginger cat. Cute.

"Cat person?"

"Are you going to keep pretending like we don't know each other?"

Her question caught you off guard, but you shrugged and hummed,

"Are you going to tell her we know each other?"

"No. And neither are you."

"It's not like it would bother her. We met when you were showing me around, simple as."

"It's not that," she groaned.

You sat up briefly, before crossing your legs and resting the glass on the table.

"What is it then?"

Your eyes shifted back to her face, and she glared at you through heavy lids. The brown was burning into your face and you prayed it didn't show. Your heart was pounding too, let's hope she didn't hear that either.

"You know what."

And you honestly didn't, she had ushered you out of her house Godspeed, when you were cleaning up sticky wine. You were sure you were never going to see her again, especially not like this.

"You don't wanna tell her what great company I am?"

You grinned and it was nothing short of bitchy. Her eyes trailed down to the neckline of your dress and she bit the inside of her cheek. She ignored your question,

"Your dress is nice, looks good on you."

A dull ache nipped at your thighs and you pressed them together gently, trying to soothe whatever it was. Her eyes dropped further and she scraped her blunt nails into the material of her jeans.

"Very weather appropriate."

You nodded, speechless at the way she was checking you out. It was so obvious and she couldn't care less, her teeth were sinking into her lip. Your legs pressed together harder. She chuckled and took a sip of her beer,

"Virginn," she sung.

You couldn't even laugh, too dazed and in grave pain to answer.

"You still gonna tell her?"

Her voice was back to the sultry, darker tone it was before and it might have been in your best interest to hide in your room.

"No," you said sharply.

"Good."

She looked up at you then, and it was the first time you felt small.

"I shouldn't have told you to leave yesterday," she sucked in and continued, "I wanted you to stay longer."

You felt dizzy, and two seconds away from submerging yourself in cold water.

"Why's that?"

She rubbed her palm, harsh along her forehead.

"I don't know."

You let your teeth sink into your bottom lip, before pressing down until you tasted blood.

"You don't know?" You whispered.

She toyed with a loose thread on her jeans, and her eyes wondered to your mouth. She was right to lick you out, it would honestly become hell living in that flat with her.

"I'm sorry."

"It's over," you said quickly.

"What's over?"

"Violet. Me and her, we're over."

You could see her think about it for a second before slowly shaking her head, and peeling her eyes away from your mouth.

"Still, it doesn't matter."

You knew she was right, but the thought had drifted somewhere far away in your mind, overshadowed by other thoughts, that had been persisting since she first opened the door yesterday.

Vi came back before the two of you could sit in silence, you weren't thankful. She tried to make more conversation, but you were too taken aback from whatever had just happened to speak. You gulped what was left straight from the bottle and stood up wobbling. Vi put a concerning hand on your thigh to steady you, it was friendly, it was nothing. You glanced over and her eyes were trained on Vi's hand, which only stayed until you weren't going to fall. She ran her tongue against her teeth and looked away.

"M'gonna go to bed," you slurred.

"You need any help?" Vi smiled, worried.

"No no don't worry," you thought you smiled cutely, but it was definitely lopsided and drunk. The drink made her softer, and you less angry. This was good, the start of good terms.

"Alright, goodnight."

"Goodnight." You stroked a hard hand on her hair, and watched how pretty your nails looked on the strands, you slightly stretched your fingers out, admiring the work and humming. You heard a scoff from the other side of the room.

"Problem?"

"No problem?" She spat back. You smiled,

"Good. Goodnight."

You turned around and tried your best to strut to your room. It didn't work, you probably looked like a giraffe on steroids.

You wobbled into your room, drunk and so fucking annoyed. Fuck her and fuck that look she kept giving you. You slammed your door shut and aggressively unzipped your shoes, whining when the metal pinched at your carves. Slumping onto the bed, you struggled to pull off your tights, groaning when they got entangled. Finally, your legs were bare and you slipped under the covers, putting a pillow over your head when you heard muffled laughter ringing through the walls. You could lowly hear her voice, it was buzzing quietly through the plaster and your stomach stirred. The room was spinning and it was even worse when you closing your eyes, somehow darkness whirling round and round. You decided staring at the ceiling would be a better option.

You heard laughter again, louder, more daunting. It was clearly her this time, if you listened closely you could hear them talking about some sort of sighting of a half horse half man in a park not too far from here. You groaned again and she laughed simultaneously. You could picture it too, head slightly lulling back and her annoyingly nice grin beaming at your bad jokes from yesterday. Her tooth gap and the little shake of her head she did afterwards to silently tell you how "unfunny" you were, unamused at your jokes. She was so pretty. You could picture the way her face dropped when your skirt gathered around your hips, the way her smile faded when she dazed at your thighs.

Today, when she hungrily stared at your legs. Your fingers traced your stomach. You thought more about what she was like today, more honest, more vulgar, she didn't shy away like the night prior. Was it the drink? Or the fact Vi was a few metres away, and you two were clearly on better terms. Your fingertips traced down your thighs, and tugged at your dress. You whined once your hand met your underwear, eager to push them aside and finally relieve yourself. You wished it was her hand, slender fingers rubbing against the damp material, gently pushing it aside and pressing against where it had been aching for too long.

You moaned quietly, and let your finger toy with your clit, rubbing small circles until it wasn't enough, and you dipped your finger down to where you were practically leaking. You scoffed at how wet you were, and told yourself this would be a one time thing, you'd only think about her this once and never again. You were going to move out, away from Vi, away from her. Her chuckle rang through the wall again, and you whimpered, harshly pressing a finger inside.

Turning over, you slid your finger in and out slowly, grounding your hips onto the bed, gasping when your palm kneaded into your clit. She laughed louder this time, and they were talking about something else. You tried to listen more, make out what they were saying but it was all mixed up.

You pumped your fingers faster, and lazily rutted your hips into the mattress. The string in your stomach was close to snapping, and your legs were tingling and shaking. Your head fell into the pillow, and you imagined her behind you, pushing it down until you were dizzy and crying.

You pleaded for something, the coil in your stomach broke right after, and white spots clouded your vision until you shut your eyes completely, riding out the high. Sevika's name spilt out of your mouth over and over and loudly and you eventually stopped shaking, and melted into the sheets.

Sleep came quickly.

The wind hid in the impossible corners of the forest, nagging whoever wandered, that they weren’t alone, that someone was always watching the things they didn’t want anyone else to see. 

She had walked until her carves mimicked a sharp pain. Her boots crunched the wood beneath her and the nettles attempted to sting through the thick material of her trousers. Every time she inhaled, the warm air webbed down her throat and stuck to the sides until a helpless cough erupted from her mouth. It was a dry, pathetic sound, a weak attempt at masking her hunger with the excuse of summer’s nighttime weather. She continued the ritual, trying to soak up the humidity in her lungs every step she took, breathing in over and over again, heaving when the cycle repeated itself.  

- 

She was far enough she couldn’t hear any engines on the side roads. Her thighs found comfort in the splinters of a jagged log underneath. The shaking was violent, it came in short bursts but there was never enough time in-between each occurrence. Her fingers juddered against the flimsy plastic, urging to rupture through, grasp the clots and fulfil her nourishment strenuously. But she’d always try to pace it and gently parented herself into the tremendous fantasy of self-control. 

It was overbearingly salty, a taut ocean flooding her flared nostrils and gushing down to where she could taste behind her tongue. The bag was closed, and she was still drowning. Her lips rattled against white, and her gums ached in unison. She closed her eyes and sucked in, waiting for the right time to be selfish. She always did this, and she always realised there was never a morally forgiving moment that would make any of this condonable. The greed ritually subsided the hesitation, her eyes sparking open as her tongue pricked itself against self-loathing enamel. She drew her own blood first, against her lip, a feeble apology that made her feel an ounce better, before digging her blunt nails in the transparency and tearing a small opening. The shaking was back, more aggressive than before, it was running on adrenaline and guilty excitement. Red dribbled down the front of her fingers and dipped into the dents of her knuckles. It was still warm, fresh and inviting. She licked a long stripe up her forefinger and tried not to grunt. She ripped the hole bigger, and it was pouring down her palms, finding disgusting comfort in the creases. Her tongue met her hand again, and again, until it eventually found itself at the leak. Her mouth opened wider, saturating the meat with briny, nauseating regret that sustained her appetite almost completely. Hollowing her cheeks and consuming the warmth, she choked slightly as she pulled her weight. It was overflowing, staining her chin and neck - she was grateful she couldn’t see herself right now. 

- 

Dizziness succumbed her, eyelids heavy with satisfaction. She was always hazy afterwards, it was a battle to find her way home and not seek rest in the dirt. Her hand squeezed the bag until it crumpled perfectly into her fist, she wedged it in her pocket. It had wept down her flannel and was drying up fast. She couldn’t see the mess completely now that it was dark, but the little light that shun from above made her see enough. The distaste and hatred were never strong afterwards, in fact she was almost numb when she sat by the lake, splashing her hands in. The water was usually cold, but it never woke her up. She moved on autopilot to get herself clean. Her arms functioned robotically, washing murky water around her mouth, it was subtly metallic, but she knew better than to bat an eye about the taste of dirty water. Her fingers didn’t shake to undo her buttons, and her t-shirt underneath only had little splotches at the hem despite her flannel being soaked. She could feel when she looked presentable - her face felt agonisingly dry, so much so that little flakes of dead skin fell in-between her fingertips. 

- 

It was lighter on the way back. This time of the year was better, especially at these hours of the morning. The dark orange hues put colour back into her skin and made her seem like she was made for the season, like her forehead got sticky in the sun, like her cheeks blossomed pink with the humidity, like she was everyone else. 

Getting home never took long, the buses started running their usual schedule at five-thirty, people were beginning their days. There weren’t many people on her route home, but one was more than enough to scrabble a pocket mirror and check for marks. She ran her tongue underneath her teeth, relieved when all she felt was a flat throb from before and nothing else. The bus stuttered over small rocks until she settled on the fact, she couldn’t lie her head on the window without it jerking against the glass. It was too early to think about anything apart from what she had just done. Crimson flashed behind her eyes, and she lowly groaned at her stomach stirring. It would be another month until she was back in the woods - she did it periodically, only when the craving was too devasting to snub. She wandered how long the animal had been dead for, an hour? Two hours? Her stomach stirred again, she dryly retched into her hand. It wasn’t a small animal, maybe a deer or a big fox. There was little difference in the taste of each specie, but there was a distinct pungency in their freshness. It was always so salty that it punctured the soft walls of her throat, making little holes for the blood to seep into for her body to soak up. She convulsed into her hand again, and an old woman shot her a concerned look and tutted, 

“You shouldn’t drink on weekdays darlin’. S’not good for you.”