Teeny Weeny Stories

And on Day 100

5/31/2020 - Based on a random dream I had where a girl was visited by a man each night, who clearly cared for her but couldn't say why. Inspiration from Vampire Diaries. 

Day 100

He had left her alone for a week. And then one night, she woke up to a hand caressing her hair. At first, she didn't move. Part of her didn't want him to leave, because she knew as soon as her eyes opened he would be gone. After a few minutes, the hand stopped, and he was gone. He had left her 100 small vials of the thick liquid in her bathroom. A choice.

Today was supposed to be the last day, if she had followed instructions. By this point, she had not taken a single drop of the blood for months. All of the memories that had been disappearing have reappeared with great detail. She would constantly replay them, reevaluate them. She understood why he did what he did. All of the actions that he took, she probably would have done the same thing.

It was hard to understand exactly what he was and how he operated. How he appeared to her might not be the same way he appears to others. But from the argument that they had so many nights ago, he didn't seem to be a bad person. Combined with the memories they shared, it was hard to see him as the bad guy.

One of the vials twirled between her fingers. They were placed on the bathroom counter, compartmentalized in their own little holders. For the longest time, she acted as if they never existed. Now, she was sitting on the bathroom floor, staring at one. It would be easier to take them and forget everything he wanted her to. Sometimes, she wished she could force them all down her throat at once and never look back.

Her fist curled around the small bottle. A sharp piece of anger cut through her chest. This was also the man that willingly forced her car to crash. His group - whoever they were - feasted on her family. The fire was their cover up, and who knows how many more there were. When he left her alone, did he grab a snack from her aunt? Or did he really try to save them? The laughter from that night pierced her ears, and with a scream, she threw the vial against the wall.

The glass shattered everywhere, even sliding back towards her legs. A piece scraped against her. Blood softly trickled down the side of her leg and down from the wall. It looked like someone took a glob of dark red paint and threw it hard against her bathroom. With her head in her hands, she didn't move. Heat radiated off her face and in any second, tears were going to fall just like the blood.

"You're bleeding."

She barely even twitched. She was so used to his frequent appearances, that she completely forgot this wasn't one. As she stayed curled in her position, he began to clean the shattered pieces on the floor. Each time he passed by, a fresh aroma of mint went with him. He seemed to know where everything was; right down to the cleaning supplies in the closet near the kitchen. She wondered if she really did have all of her memories back.

As he finished up, her gaze was directly on him now. He was dressed neatly, but his eyes were the complete opposite. They were sunken in and exhausted, dully moving from her to the now-cleaned mess. "Are you not speaking with me?"

"What do you want me to say?"

At this, he did not respond. He turned back to the blood and scrubbed harder. There was a large stain on the wall that did not seem like it was gonna come out any time soon. Part of her felt bad he was cleaning her mess, but she made no move to get up. When he finished, he crouched down to her side. The blood was trickling down her leg, leaving small droplets on the floor.