Snippet #2220811

The brunette flinched as the door opened. She didn't want him to come in. She didn't want to see his face, the face that she'd so eagerly wanted to see only the night before. She stared straight down at her hands, which were in her lap, refusing to look at him in fear that his comforting familiarity would keep her from her true feelings. Her mind was a flurry of thoughts: fear, frustration, anger, confusion. So tightly coiled was her essence that even the touch of his arms caused her the greatest of discomfort. She shrugged out of his grasp, standing and walking across the room. Delilah remained standing with her back to him for a long, agonizing silence, before she finally turned to face him.

"When were you going to tell me?" she asked, eyes filled with tears. "When was anyone going to tell me anything?" She ran a shaky hand through her hair as she struggled to breathe without choking on the air she inhaled. "So apparently, I'm some sort of freak who isn't even human and has lived all of her life thinking she was just another innocent girl. And you knew it."

Delilah's hands clenched into fists. Her nails dug into her skin, cutting her soft palms where they had already been scraped from her war on the wall only minutes earlier. "And what about you?" she continued with accusing eyes that flashed a sharp amber. "So you're not human either? You're some sort of thing that preys on people's blood?" While she spoke as if in questions, her words were demanding and knowledgeable. She wanted him to admit it, to fess up. "You want this? - she shoved out one of her bloodied palms in his direction - Does this make you hungry?" she asked between the beginning of racking sobs.