Blood Bank // Jacob X Edward

Chapter 1

(A.N.

⚠️TW: RAPE/EXTREMELY DUBIOUS CONSENT, EDWARD IS NOT A GOOD PERSON, FTM TRANSGENDER JACOB, JACOB HAS A VAGINA⚠️

MIND THE WARNINGS!!! TAKE THE WARNINGS LITERALLY! This is NOT a very nice romantic story like my other ones. This has seriously triggering topics, dark themes and will go into detail about acts of rape and violence etc. Edward is NOT a good person in this and Jake is literally fighting for the will to live.

Hope you enjoy!💜)

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He runs. He runs because he can't do anything else. He can't carry on tonight.

The night is cold, and the moon hangs high and bright amongst the dark sky. Few stars are out, more clouds than anything.

He's bloody and bruised. His left ear is torn. A claw is ripped out. Canine teeth cracked. He's sure there's a fracture in his tail. He's surprised he can run at all.

But he can't slow down because the vampire is still behind him. Still fighting to end this, despite its own injuries. The corner of its mouth cracked and fusing back together from being split open just half an hour prior. Jacob managed to rip its leg off one night before making its escape. At this moment, however, the vampire merely has cracks and shatters all over its body, and it's still going.

They both are. But Jacob's calling it a night.

He reaches the border and crosses the invisible line of protection. He sighs heavily through his snout in relief. He knows it's not enough to keep the vampire out, that he's not really safe. But now he can breathe, just a little bit. Can slow down. Take a moment for himself before the real fight begins.

He drags himself at a snail's pace through the trees. He doesn't need to look back to know the vampire - pale skin almost glowing white under the moonlight when it peeks through the clouds - is standing there behind the invisible line separating the two sides of the border, just watching. Waiting.

He doesn't want to look back at that haunting face. He never wants to look at it at all. Ever again.

His injuries have healed for the most part. His teeth, ear and cuts on his body have healed, the only thing to show for it, the physical evidence to the naked eye, is the russet fur drenched in blood so dark that it almost looks black. His missing claw has already started to regrow, and the bone in his tail will be fine in a few minutes.

Just a few more minutes.

When he sees the small red house beyond the tree line, he pushes himself to the edge of the forest before collapsing on his side with all his dead weight. His rugged pants came in and out harshly. Eye's growing heavy. A bone-deep exhaustion overcomes him once again.

He just needs a minute. Just a moment. That's all he needs.

His breathing evens out, and he fights to open his eyes. He cranes his neck up to peer down at his now regenerated claw and gives a testing, lazy wag of his tail to find that, too, has also fully healed, despite the residual ache.

He phases, steam seeping from his skin, leaving only a man dressed in nothing but his own blood lying on the cold ground.

He hauls himself up, groans at the aches and pains he feels everywhere, and sluggishly trudges through dead grass and up the incline to the small red house at the top of the plain.

Jacob has no energy to jump over the rickety railing, so he takes the two steps up the back porch and lumbers through the open window above his bed. He bites back the arising sounds of pain forming in his throat at the awkward movement of his joints and tries not to make a sound as he stumbles through the window, dirty feet landing on his bed and dropping to the floor.