FoxWriter
Cluster
- Joined
- Jan 20, 2011
- Location
- in the realm of lust and seduction
It was close to midnight, the beating thrum of the base beat in his chest and his ears rang from the music. He was high, he was always high these days, with progressively bigger doses each time. It was hard to keep that... other half, under control, hard to keep himself from going off the deep end, hard not to give in. he was giving in in all reality, he was inching closer and closer to death. He had stopped eating, stopped drinking anything other than alcohol, he had stopped caring about himself. Oh he always looked clean and well groomed, it wouldn't do to have anyone catching on to him after all, not that he was really fully aware of what he was doing, he just didn't want people to notice anything was, different, about him. He smiled as he took a dirty needle from another Vampire, an slipped it into his arm, humming happily as he slipped the juice into his bloodstream, making him feel dizzy and wonderful, like after a thrilling roller coaster ride.
He stood, kissing the woman he had shared the drugs with, dragging her out to the dance floor. He didn't know her name, he didn't care, a round of dirty sex was on the menu and that was all that he cared about. He laughed as he moved with her, bouncing to get his blood, what little was left, pumping. He never noticed the darkness creeping in, and in an instant he had collapsed, much to his partners horror. She screamed, another person called Nine One One, and in a matter of minutes the Ambulance was there, loading him onto a stretcher. He'd woken by that point, and was in a panic, fighting against the paramedics. He couldn't go to the hospital! He couldn't! He couldn't let anyone know, couldn't let anyone find out! It was his secrete, his and his alone! But despite his protests, his snarls, his wails... he was strapped to a stretcher and loaded into the Ambulance, and as darkness took him again, he hoped he died on the way to the hospital.
He was immediately rushed to emergency care. His blood was flushed, much to the doctors horror. He was pumped full of fresh, new blood, and they examined the tracks of dirty needle marks on his arms, his inner thighs, in-between his toes. Anywhere he could do it without anyone seeing the marks. No one could understand why such a rich man, would go downhill so hard. His name was Rehv, he was the owner of no less than ten, very popular nightclubs all around the world. He had amassed a major fortune in his two hundred plus years. He was handsome, impressive, and all around a very desirable man, especially as he was physically only in his twenties and very young for a Vampire of his stature. Most Vampire youths spent their first hundred years simply mooching off their parents. In fact many two hundred year old vampires where mooching off their parents. He was quickly declared stable, and was put in one of the 'high risk' wards when the Doctor realized that Rehv was passively suicidal. Rehv was going to be completely pissed off when he realized he was stuck in the hospital until his 'Mental Health' was 'back to normal'.
He stood, kissing the woman he had shared the drugs with, dragging her out to the dance floor. He didn't know her name, he didn't care, a round of dirty sex was on the menu and that was all that he cared about. He laughed as he moved with her, bouncing to get his blood, what little was left, pumping. He never noticed the darkness creeping in, and in an instant he had collapsed, much to his partners horror. She screamed, another person called Nine One One, and in a matter of minutes the Ambulance was there, loading him onto a stretcher. He'd woken by that point, and was in a panic, fighting against the paramedics. He couldn't go to the hospital! He couldn't! He couldn't let anyone know, couldn't let anyone find out! It was his secrete, his and his alone! But despite his protests, his snarls, his wails... he was strapped to a stretcher and loaded into the Ambulance, and as darkness took him again, he hoped he died on the way to the hospital.
He was immediately rushed to emergency care. His blood was flushed, much to the doctors horror. He was pumped full of fresh, new blood, and they examined the tracks of dirty needle marks on his arms, his inner thighs, in-between his toes. Anywhere he could do it without anyone seeing the marks. No one could understand why such a rich man, would go downhill so hard. His name was Rehv, he was the owner of no less than ten, very popular nightclubs all around the world. He had amassed a major fortune in his two hundred plus years. He was handsome, impressive, and all around a very desirable man, especially as he was physically only in his twenties and very young for a Vampire of his stature. Most Vampire youths spent their first hundred years simply mooching off their parents. In fact many two hundred year old vampires where mooching off their parents. He was quickly declared stable, and was put in one of the 'high risk' wards when the Doctor realized that Rehv was passively suicidal. Rehv was going to be completely pissed off when he realized he was stuck in the hospital until his 'Mental Health' was 'back to normal'.