Free Distract my hunger by X. Williamson Page B

every drink and all her feelings and memories flowed through me like a breeze in spring. It was fresh as jasmine in a summer porch and richer than pure honey. Her heartbeats pounded with my every breath; and when I felt I could finally loose myself in it all, it was over. Clara turned off the tap.
    For a moment I wanted to pull on the tube, to squeeze any small drop that could linger inside it. I wanted to beg for more, to plead with all my might to keep on feeling her blood pour in my mouth, but I did not. I could feel Jonathan humming a lullaby to my mind and I grew calm. I felt happy and tired, for the first time since I had awakened I truly wanted to lie in bed and sleep.
    Clara’s face had a smile, “Thank you,” she said. I thought it was the strangest thing to have her thank me, for it was I who had to thank her.
    “I believe it is I who has to thank you” I said, and then softly hoped they would offer me a bed to sleep in. I felt drowsy and my lids were heavy on my eyes.
    As if answering my prayers Corbin hugged and thanked the girl and said that I must be tired. I simply wanted to cry with joy at those words. James and Jonathan loosened their tight grip on my arms but not letting go completely (just in case I went berserk on the poor girl) and led me out of the “kitchen” though a simple white door.
    Too tired to even thing of saying goodbye to Clara I just let them lead me into a new corridor that died ay the bottom of a gorgeous marble stairway.
    The staircase had a beautiful read carpet going all the way up in the middle and it made a soft curve to the left. The railing was made of intricate iron leaves and flowers, making it look like something out of a decorations magazine. Just by looking at the numerous steps I felt it was going to be an impossible ordeal to go all the way up, luckily just as if reading my thoughts (which he probably did) my sweet boy took me in his arms and went up the stairs.
    My face was nested neatly on his shoulder just beside his neck, making me feel almost drunk on his sweet musky smell. Jonathan never set me down on my feet; he continued walking down the corridor until he reached one of the bedrooms and took me in. He then softly left me on a soft silk comforter and turned to leave.
    “Please stay,” I said, “I just want to sleep in your arms.” He turned to face me again and without uttering a word he lay down on the bed beside me. With his arm over my shoulder and his chest tightly pressed against my back I finally succumbed to sleep.

CHAPTER 8
    The Dream
    I was having the same dream I had before, the same dream I had when the twins recited the poem.
    Everything around me was foggy, but I could hear someone calling out. I walked in circles, sometimes I could listen and sometimes I heard nothing. The fog thinned out and slowly I saw a dim female figure.
    She was the one calling my name so I went to her. Her arms, outstretched in my direction, were imploring for me to get there. She looked impossibly thin. Her scrawny pale figure seemed anxious yet longing. A huge set of brown eyes took over her long, thin face. Thin lips and a small taut nose stood beneath her impressive stare and enhanced the nervous aura that surrounded her. Her glossy hair, slightly reddish hung loosely around her shoulders making her look slightly sickish. She appeared to be in her early thirties, but she was dressed like out of another time.
    A long dark brown skirt covered the whole length of her long legs and a pale, cream-coloured, long-sleeved blouse dressed her upper body. A set of quite witch-like black boots held her firm place and crowned her look of being out of place, out of time.
    The imploring figure seemed oddly familiar while I walked towards her but I couldn’t quite point out who she reminded me of. She seemed to be in a hurry without even moving one hair and implored me with her ever stretching arms to get near. When I finally stood at arms reach, she took hold of both of my hands