Die By the Drop

1

It wasn’t the chill that rattled my bones, but the knowledge didn’t stop me from blaming my shivers on the cold as Manny tore at my clothes to expose more skin .

You alright? My boyfriend of two-and-a-half years shoved my jeans down my hips without waiting for an answer.

I don’t feel so good. I sensed movement in the trees surrounding us, belying the eerie stillness of the night. In the distance, a bonfire crackled, the pungent smell of smoke tangling on the wind as music blared. I felt trapped in a bubble of deceptive calm. Silence, the kind that prevails when animals flee, thickened around us.

Manny didn’t seem to notice. He shoved cold fingers between my legs and rubbed my dry flesh.

Even in his drunken haze, he looked disappointed. Wasn’t I always wet and ready for him? Wasn’t I always predictable and accommodating?

Never mind, his huff seemed to say. The condom has lube on it. He gave me a sloppy kiss while he rifled through his jeans pocket. I knew what came next. He’d turn me around, shove me up against the tree, and fuck me from behind like so many times before in these woods. Maybe the tree he braced me against knew the press of our weight, the sound of our moans. Maybe my fingernails had etched this bark another time during the throes of ecstasy.

Tonight was different, though. Tonight I couldn’t ignore who I was—what I was. I couldn’t pretend everything was fine.

Manny. Manny! Stop for a second, okay?

I pitched my voice low, soothing him. He was pretty horny so it took longer than usual. He pulled his teeth away from the condom wrapper and stared at me.

I don’t feel up to it tonight, babe. I’m sorry.

He sighed and took a step back. What’s going on with you? You’ve been acting weird all fucking week, and now, we finally get a chance to be alone and you’re not up to it?

I yanked up my panties and jeans and straightened my spine. You and I have both been busy with work and school, so don’t put this shit on me. If you want something to just lie there while you jizz all over it, then let me get out of your way. I slid to the side, and motioned with my hands like a magician’s assistant, presenting the tree for his sexual pleasure.

Shock flared in Manny’s eyes. I’d never spoken to him with disdain. Guilt blew out the flame of my anger and nausea doused the embers.  

I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I whispered to the night air. My stomach flipped and I bent to dry heave. Manny leaned over to push my hair aside.

You didn’t have too much to drink, did you?

I shook my head and regretted the motion. I couldn’t even finish that beer. Fuck, I want to go home. Tears stung my eyes. 

Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong again. Something’s going to happen!

Is this like one of those episodes you had when you were a kid?

I grimaced and righted myself, swiping my forehead with a sweaty palm. "You mean, before I got admitted against my will to a mental hospital? One of those episodes?"

It’s exactly like that, but I’ll be damned if I’ll tell you the truth.

Manny had the decency to look ashamed for bringing up my battle with mental health. I never talked about my admittance into Tremaine Behavioral Hospital after my cousin Nora’s death, but he knew. Everyone in our small suburban town knew. My past hung over me like a cloud. I’d cultivated a new image since then, my dark past fading, mostly blending in with the white fluffy clouds surrounding the fictional life I presented to the world.

But still, every once in a while, if I looked too emotional, if I didn’t smother melancholy before anyone saw, my loved ones pricked up their ears, listening for the first hint of a storm. Always, there glowed a touch of gray in me, a rumble of thunder buried deep within. I’d spent years burying my volatile nature, but I couldn’t dig the hole deep enough so that people forgot I’d been unhinged once. Small towns have longer memories.

Evie—

I leaned back against the tree for support while I tried to make myself look strong. I’m not having an episode. I’m not crazy.

I know that. Just talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. Manny stroked my overheated cheek with cool fingers, gentling his touch the way he did before kissing me.

I wanted to tell him, but I’d come too far to turn back now. The girl I used to be, the one who’d screamed and cried and suffered nightmares just before Nora’s death? She died as soon as I got my clearance papers from the hospital. I’d killed her.

I am normal! I’m just sick to my stomach and need to get some rest. I’m not crazy. And even if I was losing my mind, I’d die before I told another living soul. Never again.

Nothing. I just don’t feel well. The lie worked. Like flipping a switch, he returned to exasperation.

We just got here, Evie. And Greg? What am I supposed to tell him?

Greg—Manny’s best friend since pee-wee football—shipped off for the Army tomorrow. We’d come to a bonfire to celebrate his last night in town.

I’m sorry. You can stay and I’ll take the car.

Manny scowled. You’re the designated driver.

Fuck.

I’d never been a big drinker, so I agreed to be the designated driver. I’d completely forgotten, and now, I regretted my promise.

Manny wavered before my eyes, but I blinked my tears back. I swallowed. A shiver wracked me.

Get it together, Evie. Just grin and bear it for one night.

I can’t stay, I blurted.

So much for my pep talk.

The Evie I pretended to be—the normal college senior—would've sucked it up and agreed to stay, like a mature and totally sane twenty-two-year-old. The Evie I pretended to be would’ve smiled, kissed her boyfriend, and led him back to the party after he shot his load. Why couldn’t I just do that now?

I can come back and get you. If you call me—

He shoved his dick into his boxers and zipped with more force than needed. I’ll walk home.

We were only a thirty-or forty-minute hike from our hometown of Guthridge, New Jersey. No sweat for a man built like an NFL quarterback, but I still didn’t like the idea. Not tonight. Not in these woods.

So you’re gonna walk home drunk and then get up for work tomorrow afternoon?

Well, that wasn’t the fucking plan, was it?

My stomach roiled. I needed to concentrate, push away his anger, and stay calm for both our sakes. I focused on the relentless tingling in my fingers. I clenched and unclenched my fists and shook out my hands, but they wouldn’t stop trembling.

Just give me the keys, Evie. I’ll drop you off at your place, then come by later to leave your car.

You’ve been drinking! I protested. By the time you’re ready to leave, you’ll be drunk. I’m not letting you drive.

His jaw clenched. That wonderful, square jaw I loved to kiss. He rarely got mad at me and I had ways of making him forget his anger. None of which I felt up to right now.

I growled and stuffed my hands into my jacket pockets. Call me when you’re ready to go, Manny. I’ll come get you.

He huffed and shook his head.

Okay?

Whatever. He turned and stormed towards the party.

Nice, babe. Thanks for being so understanding!

Fuck you! He spun on me. You’ve been acting like a selfish bitch all week, so you might as well go home. It’ll be more fun without you here. I’ll tell Greg you said ‘bye’.

I screamed in wordless frustration and slapped the bark of the tree.

Ow! Shit!

My palm stung and I cursed my outburst at an inanimate object. Manny’s softer face would’ve been much more satisfying to hit. I turned on my heel, outrage propelling me in the opposite direction.

Fuck me?

No, fuck you! Motherfucking sonofabitch!

Damn near three years of being unselfish, and one off week was all it took for him to treat me like gum stuck to his shoe?

Fine. I hoped he was ready to get a piece of my mind tomorrow. His ears would bleed by the time I finished with him.

Underbrush snagged my ankles. Branches smacked me in the face while I stumbled on the slippery pine needles, damp leaves, and moss.  Even the damn trees had it in for me.

I just needed to find my way to the path.

Just get back to the car and this will be—

A chill licked the nape of my neck. Reaching to touch the spot, I’d swear I touched a wet trail—the sort left by a tongue.

I whirled.

Of course there’s nothing there, stupid.

Only evergreens and birches, darkness, and the fading sounds of the party beyond.

But the sickening wrench in my gut—the feeling of something tracking me like prey—only worsened. For a moment, I thought of turning back, sucking up my pride, and apologizing to Manny. Instead I picked up the pace.

The closer I got to the path, the worse my nausea got. I stopped thinking about cursing Manny out tomorrow. I stopped thinking about having dinner with my parents and brother Sunday evening. I stopped thinking about exams and my approaching final semester of college.

I stopped thinking, period. I gave my sixth sense free reign. The moment I opened my consciousness to the ability I usually suppressed, the deepest sense of dread I’d ever felt hit me like a punch to my gut.

A snapped twig echoed through the night. Booming laughter gave me a fright so fierce, I spun around again, slipped, and almost fell on my ass. Inky blackness blanketed the woods, broken only by streaks of starlight in the gaps between naked tree limbs.

Some sixty feet away, a man stood in plain sight.

I made out his masculine build. His imposing height wasn’t disguised by the easy hunter’s crouch he assumed. Moonlight refracted off his predatory stare, triggering my flight response. Adrenaline pumped through me.

My boyfriend is out here! I retreated, first one tentative step, then another. So you should go back to the party and leave me alone!

The man tilted his head. He took a deliberate step forward.

You’d better stop fucking around before I scream! My boyfriend won’t think this is funny!

 Even in the dark, I spied the gleam of white teeth. The blazing flash served as my only warning before he took off at sprint so fast I tasted my heart in my throat.

I pivoted and scrambled for the path, screaming so loud my voice echoed in my ears.

Manny! Manny! Help me!

My desperate cries almost drowned out my attacker’s laughter.

But not quite.

Somebody! Help!

2

Footfalls thudded behind me, gaining with every stride .

I flirted with my own dementia as I ran. Maybe I’d lost my mind again. Maybe my nightmare would end if I could just force myself awake.

Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!

Where you going, baby? Your limp dick boyfriend went the other way!

My heart pounded, but the sinister baritone of my pursuer blocked the thud in my ears. His voice echoed, not just in the woods, but in the marrow of my bones.

He’s real. He’s been watching me the whole time. He’s right behind me!

"C’mon, Evie, come back! We just wanna talk!"

The sound of my name on a stranger’s lips shook me. 

We? There’s another one?

It couldn’t be a different voice. It had to be the same man chasing me, trying to make himself more intimidating.

And yet, the voice calling my name now seemed different. Higher, the laughter more frenetic, if no less sinister. I veered to my left and spied movement trailing me.

Determined to leave this guy in my dust, I called on my runner’s skills, skills I’d cultivated by struggling to keep up with Manny’s six-minute mile. I propelled my body forward like a machine, into fatigue and beyond. My greedy lungs sucked in oxygen. My thighs and calves burned like kindling.

No amount of effort put enough distance between us.

Help! Somebody help! I’d only enough air to gasp my plea. The pounding in my ears and my own footsteps seemed to drown my cry out.

Help! My pursuer mocked my voice, pitching it high and shrill like a B-movie horror vixen. Somebody help!

He didn’t even sound winded.

The path leaped into view. I sobbed in relief. Mere seconds and I’d be in my car, calling the police as I sped away.

Running this sonofabitch over was a possibility, too. The fantasy of violent retribution eased the stitch in my side. I gulped cool November air and pushed, pushed, freedom almost within my grasp.

Another man leaped onto the path ahead. I dug in the balls of my feet, praying to skid to a halt and outmaneuver him. I slipped on the pine needles and pitched forward. I would’ve slammed into him if he hadn’t lifted me into the air by my upper arms like a child. He must’ve been sporting weird contact lenses, because his eyes reflected light like a cat’s.

No way his pupils are that big. No fucking way.

My chest seized. I couldn’t catch a full breath. I couldn’t break his iron grip. He lifted me above his head and tightened his hold like a sadistic blood pressure machine. I howled in pain and reached for his face with bloodless hands, desperate to revive circulation in my lower arms.

Death stared up at me with white teeth and sharp fangs clenched in a deadly smile. He wore a gray hoodie and curly, dark hair obscured his eyes, but those predatory canines were all I cared about. He snapped them near my face like a rabid dog. I kneed him in the sternum in reply. I returned his smile with satisfaction when he wheezed and hit him again. If I couldn’t run, I’d fight.

Let me go, you sick fuc—

He tossed me away from him. I gasped as I hurtled into the air.

Expecting a bone-jarring crash to the ground, I squeaked when an arm of steel caught my waist from behind. I let out an ‘oof’ as my spine impacted a hard torso, and looked down to see a pale, bare arm.

Who wears a T-shirt in November?

Who throws a grown woman with the ease of a beach ball?

Who catches a human being midair with one arm?

Stop! I rasped, my voice all but useless from the stomach-churning lack of air. Let me go!

With a casual flip, my attacker parked my ass on his hip, bouncing me like a toddler. He screamed louder than me, just to show me no one could hear. The man who’d thrown me laughed and unbuckled his belt.

I found the breath to scream, eyes riveted to the dangling brass buckle, but a calloused hand gripped my mouth. An immediate hush fell over the night. I dug my nails into my captor’s pale hand, hard enough to draw blood, but still, he held firm. The Pale One shoved his hips into my ass and pressed me flush against his body, gripping my mound. The cold palm against my pussy immobilized me with fear. The hard hand over my mouth stifled my screams. But I did scream. My fury died under his palm when something sharp ripped into my throat.

For a full second, I thought the Pale One had slit my throat. A knife maybe? And in the next heartbeat, because his mouth locked onto my neck like a vice, I thought he must have a razor blade clenched in his teeth.

The world blurred. Blistering pain overwhelmed my panic, but I didn’t die or choke on my own blood. Instead, the hideous pain of tearing skin was replaced by the stinging ache of suction. His tongue burrowed into the wounds to open them wider as they flowed.

Not a razor blade. Teeth. He bit me!

The Pale One must’ve filed down his teeth into sharp points, because his attack felt precise, unlike the gnashing I’d expect from normal teeth. Wetness trickled down my neck. I shivered with revulsion. Either his spit or my blood dripped over the curve of my collarbone.

You psychotic fuck! What’re you doing?

I wanted to write them off as gothic idiots, a couple weeks too late for Halloween, but they terrified me with their strength. The more I struggled to get free, the more he tore the tender flesh, the harder he sucked from my wound.

Self-defense training hadn’t prepared me for a freaky-strong assailant who wanted me to have the hickey to end all hickeys before he raped me.

Rape.

The word tolled in my mind like a bell as the guy in the hoodie approached me. I squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn’t look at him, stalking forward for a taste, not while the man holding me rubbed my mound and sucked my neck with sloppy vigor. I didn’t want to see Hoodie Guy unbutton his pants all the way as he prepared to shove himself inside me.

I focused on the fight again. I clawed the hand covering my mouth, only to have my hand wrenched away by Hoodie Guy. I snapped my gaze to him as he closed his hand around my wrist. He smiled into my wide eyes and squeezed. I felt bones break like twigs. I screamed and jerked, but still remained trapped, my raw voice still muffled. Pain shrieked along my arm as Hoodie Guy yanked my swelling joint into the air.

I sobbed against the Pale One’s palm, while the other stretched my arm taut as a bowstring. My jacket—and the sweater beneath—ripped like tissue paper. Cold air raked goosebumps on my arms. The heat of a mouth blocked out the chill before Hoodie Guy bit into the artery at the bend of my elbow. My blood and his spit mingled as he clamped down and sucked.

Why are you doing this to me?

I wrenched my head to the side, desperate to make eye contact with one of them so they might answer me. Why me? Why were they biting me? I hoped the desperation in my eyes would appeal to their humanity, but my efforts went unheeded. Whatever drugs these lunatics were on had fried their brains. Had to be drugs. I shuddered, thinking I’d become the victim of a bad batch of meth. Horror stories about drug binges and cannibalism flashed through my beleaguered mind.

God please don’t let them be cannibals. Please let me get out of this alive. Please. Please.

We all tumbled to the ground. I sat on my ass, pinned to the Pale One, still sucking on my neck like a straw. I strained against unyielding planes of muscle bracketed by two long legs, while the other man knelt beside us, drawing blood from the veins in my right arm. I kicked. I dug my heels into the ground. I struggled to gain leverage, until two iron grips encircled my ankles, jerked my legs straight, and sat me down again.

A frantic glance down the length of my body confirmed my worst fear.

Another one? Three of them?

A woman? No, a man. His shoulders were broad, but long hair fell over them and a dark flannel shirt, blending into the night.

I knew he wasn’t the first man, who still suckled my neck. Pale One had only just now shifted his hand from my crotch to my left breast, never once relinquishing his suction on my neck. I knew he wasn’t the man who sucked at the bend of my arm. Hoodie Guy’s greedy mouth still mined my veins like an evil nurse drawing endless pints of blood.

Those two hadn’t moved except to drag me to the ground.

Which meant the man between my legs had just joined us.

The long-haired one slid his hands up my thighs and over my hips. The Pale One lay on the ground and pulled me flat with him, my arm still held aloft by Hoodie Guy, sucking the bend dry.

Long Hair only released my hips to unbutton and unzip my jeans with rough fingers.

No!

Twigs, dirt, and leaves crunched under my ass as he stripped my jeans and panties off. I redoubled my efforts, not caring about the pain in my shattered wrist, and the leeches affixed to my neck and inner arm.

Naked from the waist down, my shirt rode up my back in the struggle, pinned between my spine and Pale One’s body.

I felt a shocking touch of softness amidst the cruelty. The third man’s hair had to be longer than I could see. He still sat over me, looking down with glowing eyes. Silken hair tickled my groin, my hips, my navel. A soft sweep of the tips brushed against my labia and over my clit before resting on my stomach. The sensation made me shudder. A drop of wetness escaped my opening. I clenched my thighs to silence the involuntary hint of arousal, but my body no longer answered to me. The third man’s huge hands clasped the tops of my thighs and pried them apart. His calloused fingers scraped the vulnerable skin, summoning goosebumps.

Long Hair, who’d stripped off my jeans, took me from naked to exposed when he placed one of my legs on the other side of Pale One’s. I felt the tendons in my thighs wail in agony as the third man pinned one of my knees to the ground, holding the other as far open as he could, while I lay braced against the first man’s body.

And I thought you were the gentle one.

I struggled to close my legs, only succeeding in dragging a sharp branch against my outer thigh. The tip broke the skin. Leaves stuck to the bloody cut like my attackers stuck to me.

Long Hair lay on top of me and pumped his hips, scraping denim-caged hardness against me. Tears spilled from my eyes. He inhaled me, rubbed his nose over my chest, and tugged my shirt down to expose the tops of my breasts. When he dragged his tongue across my pounding heart, he pinned me with his stare. I froze, staring back like a mouse caught in a viper’s sights.

Down my body he nuzzled, nipping and sucking at my quivering belly. I tried to make myself small, concave. The futile act only pressed me tighter to the firm body at my back. I couldn’t escape the greedy mouths biting and licking me.

But the man topping me, his lips felt different, soft and full. He trailed them over my skin, savoring the texture, and leaving trails of saliva in their wake.

I should be fighting.

Why can’t I fight?

A rush of air hit my neck as the suckling mouth pulled away. A groan of raw pleasure sounded in my ear. I shuddered as hot breath wafted across my swollen folds.

Fuck! The pale one’s gravelly voice echoed and he licked my neck like he’d lick a plate clean.

A wave of shame flushed through me. I sobbed, disgusted by the pounding arousal in my groin. Fear? Did people react this way in terror? The night air cooled my juices but couldn’t stop the flow. My spine bowed at the conflicting sensations. My clit thudded, each beat a punch to the face of my modesty.

I’m not fighting because I’m weak.

A vision of my dead and defiled body on the forest floor flashed in my mind. I would be a corpse twisted in the night, my last words a scream no one would ever hear.

But, I wasn’t always weak, was I?

Teeth sank deep into the flesh of my inner thigh.

Pain. Arousal.

I used to be strong.

Hunger.

I’m stronger than this.

Hunger, something my attackers and I shared. My hunger to survive startled me out of self-pity like a slap. My mind lit with one urgent thought.

Fight or die.

Maybe they’d let me live, but I didn’t believe they would. I refused to die like this. I refused to fade away, quiet, while lunatics defiled my body with their creepy fetish.

I couldn’t take them on in a fist fight—one had overpowered me with ease—but my fists weren’t the only weapons at my disposal. 

I had no name for what I was about to do, no way to explain the thing that made me different. For years, I pretended I’d cultivated a stronger intuition than others, and nothing more. Acknowledging anything else—even to myself—made normality impossible.

For the first time in over a decade, I ripped off my mask. Unchecked, a version of me I could only call my higher self, floated outside my body. Assessing the scene below, I confirmed my suspicions. Three men fed from my half-naked form. I watched in horror while my torso and limbs spasmed, then descended into bloodless death.

From above, the group hierarchy unfolded like a written book. The first to attack had pierced my neck, but the weakest fed from my arm. The new attacker fastened to my thigh—focus on him, he’s the leader.

My femoral artery pumped into his mouth. Full lips covered my torn flesh. Raven hair tumbled over his shoulders and draped my thighs like widow’s lace. The way he moved, the way his hands roved my skin, he looked like he was tasting the cleft between my legs. I lingered on my own still form and disappointment surged in my ghostly form.

Traitor.

The girl wore my skin but had none of my impulses. She vibrated with vicious hunger and need. My eyes drift closed and I transferred my focus to the leader. I sensed his satisfaction and rode the sensation right into his head. 

I dove, spirit-first, into the leader’s mind, and stained him from the inside out, like ink on paper.  I clung so close to his insides that his goosebumps became mine. My cold skin flushed with the blood he’d stolen.

Unprepared for the wrenching throb between my—his—thighs, I tuned into something new. So this is what it feels like to have a hard cock?

No, this is different than what Manny feels. His throbbing—it’s like a drill between his legs.

I shook off the distraction of peeping around inside the opposite gender, and focused on a more startling revelation.

His heart! beatingbeatingbeatingbeating. So fast! He should be having a seizure.

Blood pumped through the leader’s chest like a toy train on turbo speed, in a never-ending loop. The insistent, desperate throb started in his heart and ended in his painfully-solid shaft. When he drank from me, it was like being high, like falling, like coming over and over again. My blood eased his ache.

Our ache.

I fell into his arousal, his hunger, his need, his feral carelessness, and whispered through the dormant caverns of his conscience.

Stop. Stop!

He jerked his head high and stared as if he’d heard my voice.

You want me alive. You need me alive.

With the eyes of my spirit, I held his feral stare. No time to flinch, but goosebumps crawled down my spine as my mouth filled with the acidic taste of revulsion. Tangled within my gift, both of us inhaled the same sharp breath. Erect with desire, his hips pumped into the ground between my calves. My spine bowed in response, echoing him.

I knew how delicious it would feel for him to lay his hips against mine, for the soft skin on the head of his cock to cling to my slick folds before slipping inside. Juicy, clenching heaven wrapped around him, so tight it felt real. Blood and slick pussy mingled as he fucked me in his mind. He’d hit that spot within, flooding yet another unwilling cunt over and over, wrenching pleasure from my pain, tearing me apart from the inside out, breaking me, the crack of my hips and my screams of agony driving him harder to the finish line. The moment just before he came within me would be the sweetest, so sweet he could blow right now. We needed to finish, to find ecstasy right now—

I wrenched his mind away from pleasure to the truth.

Now I became the predator, forcing his memories to the forefront of his brain. 

Men and women, ripped to shreds by his thirst, danced like puppets to my mental command. C’mon, asshole, make the connection before I pass out. Keep feeding and I die. Fuck me while you feed and you’ll lose all sense of how much blood you take. We don’t want that, do we?

My mind lit like neon, with a thought not mine.

Witch!  I shivered at the slow drag of his tongue against my wounded thigh, cringing at the vile images flowing through his poisoned brain. Sweet. Sweet. Witch blood.

A sick, twisted serial-killing fuck was ranting about witches and sweet blood in my head. New cult maybe? Satanic worship? He thought I was a witch for fuck’s sake.

We’re both crazy. He thinks he can drink blood and I think I can read minds.

Temptation flared. He wanted me, wanted the instant gratification of feeling my death.

Flashes of his own memories assaulted me. Fragile human bodies broken by his strength, by the strength of his henchmen. Mangled corpses choking on blood and screams.

If you fuck me now, you’ll kill me.

Relief whispered through me—powered by my weakened veins—at his nod. He circled a hand over his belly.

Empath. Back off now, but feed again soon. Build up her strength.

His cock heated like a branding iron. I could almost see the glow radiating from his shaft as I untangled myself from him. I let my spirit fall into my body, weakened from my trip though his vile memories. My pussy clenched—in want. My folds swelled to bursting and the wind on my bared skin felt like strumming fingers. An ache settled into my channel, a spike of pain struck my clit like ice, sending jagged shards of pleasure all the way to my swollen nipples.

Warm blood trickled down my neck, caressing my breast as my head lolled to the side.

Hear