100 Yellow Doors

november 23rd, 2019, 12:59 a.m.

Julien woke to utter darkness.

    He blinked into the blackness, trying to piece together his consciousness, slowly remembering where he was. Satin pillow underneath his head, the sound of sirens wailing distantly somewhere outside, the metallic tang of blood floating in his nostrils. And beside him—cold skin, the soft whisper of sleepy breathing.

    He pulled himself to a sitting position, stunned for a moment by the searing headache that tore at his temples, the wrenching in his stomach. Oh, but he knew this feeling; he knew it well. It was hunger, craving, the undying need to feed.

    He splayed a mindless hand across his bare chest. He was wearing only his boxers; he couldn't remember where his clothes were, or even the last time he'd worn them. His eyes adjusted, the night clearing. Sera was curled on her side beside him, comforter pulled up sloppily over her shoulders, partially revealing a clean slope of pale skin that Julien had the faint memory of kissing the night before. He was locked in a constant dream state, conscious fading in and out, the last few weeks a collage of images that made no sense together. A brand on his stomach, like hot coals pressed against his skin. A young boy brought to him, trembling, wide-eyed, When do I get to go home? Sera's smile. Purple wallpaper, all the rooms dark.

    Julien swung his legs over the side of the bed, nearly tripping over something as he stood. When he gathered himself, he stopped and turned around.

    There were two bodies curled half-dressed on the floor, one a woman, one an older man—a couple, perhaps. Lying still, but breathing, Julien thought—he could hear their pulses thumping slowly in the back of his head.

    His stomach wrenched again; before his mind registered what he was doing, he was kneeling on the ground, lifting the man's neck to his mouth and sinking in his fangs. The skin gave underneath his teeth like a pencil pushed through paper. For a moment, Julien was alive again.

    "Jule?" Brittle voice, still heavy with sleep.

    Julien lowered the man to the ground again with a quiet thunk as Sera sat up, peering at him. "Seraphine."

    "You're still hungry?" she said, smoothing her hair down again, fixing her bangs. Julien's frozen heart did a reluctant flip in his chest. "You should have said something."

    "I—" He looked down at the couple, their ashen skin, the fresh puncture marks all over their necks and wrists. "I don't know. I didn't really know I was hungry until..."

    "Oh, Jule," Sera said, only her voice was behind him, and suddenly her hands were around him, sliding over his shoulders and down his chest. "You've starved yourself an awful long time. You'll get used to it again. I promise."

    "Sera—"

    "I can call Vanya," she said, as if he'd said nothing. "He can bring you another, if you like."

    "Sera," Julien said, getting to his feet, throwing Sera's arms off of him. He licked his lips, the blood sticky on his chin. He frowned, sure there was something he was forgetting. There was someone he was supposed to call, someone he was supposed to check on... "I have to go."

    Silence was her only reply. She looked at him from the floor, her expression a delicate mix of confusion and betrayal, silken strap of her nightgown slipping down one ivory shoulder. "You do?"

    Julien nodded, letting his fangs slide once again into their sheaths. He faced the window, moon a pure white crescent in the sky: the outline of a sleeping eye. "I don't know why, but it feels like...I'm missing something?" he hesitated, then turned, galvanized. "How long have I been here with you? In this house? How long has it been?"