Leech

she’s warm, dripping with sweat, pupils dilated, a wetness sticking to her inner thighs. her hair falls against the pillow, a black cascade, her body as fragile as glass if i was so inclined to break it.

i’ve been here before. not with her, but with others. not in this room, but other rooms. sometimes i take them on a bed, or the floor, or pressed up against the wall with their desperate fingernails scratching into the cold stone of my back. years of this. decades of this. centuries piled atop centuries.

my only release is pleasure, hot, living flesh beneath my own bloodless hands. i taste them. i fuck them. i drink them dry. you ever feel like you’re stuck in a loop where nothing changes? you wake up, you go to work, you eat, you go to sleep, you come home, and then you do it all over again. it’s like you’re bound. fate has dealt you an unfavorable hand and all you can do is go through the motions.

that’s what it’s like to live forever. that is immortality. that is sunless night after sunless night, throbbing throat after throbbing throat, everything you’ve ever loved fading and withering and aging while you remain perfectly the same.

it’ll drive you crazy. it drove me crazy after the first hundred years or so. i’ve done it all. every depraved act of debauchery you’ve dreamed of but never acted upon out of fear.

i’m jealous of the world, because it is slowly dying while I am slowly living.

Next Chapter: Apparition; Chapter 4