Hematophagy, Pt. 1

The sound of buzzing follows me constantly now, as much a fact of existence as the sensation of heat and cold on my skin, the insistent cloying need of my body to eat and sleep, the beating of my own heart.

I wish that there were someone I could blame for where I am now, but there is not. I could turn my gaze inward, but even that would not provide the answers I seek. I could blame the cold indifference of the universe, but what would be the point? One may as well curse the ocean for their drowning. If I believed in fate, I could decry that, but I don’t. If there is an intelligence controlling guiding things in this world, then it is as disinterested and incomprehensible as a scientist studying microbes.

I suppose I should start at the beginning, but frankly, I don’t think there’s time. I’m looking over my shoulders now, checking behind curtains and inside closets with a weapon in my hand (as if a knife or a gun would do me a damn bit of good when they come for me.) I can feel that something big is about to happen, something I can’t even begin to imagine. I can sense it in my bones, taste it on my tongue.

And the buzzing is getting louder. Always louder.

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