After the Mark

CHAPTER TWO: Awakening the Blood

She was so beautiful I couldn't hold her gaze. My eyes dropped to the cracked, yellowed tiles on the floor.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

I kept washing my hands-even though they were already clean. I was drunk, frightened, and completely unsure of what to do next.

Then I heard her footsteps.

They were slow. Deliberate.

I looked up through the mirror. She was right behind me now. Close enough that I could feel her breath on my back.

I froze.

Her hands reached forward and pressed against my chest.

"Whoa-what's going on?" I said, staggering a step sideways.

She didn't move her hands. Instead, she stepped even closer.

"What are you doing?" I asked, my voice shaking.

"Your heart," she said, her eyes fixed on my chest. "It's beating very fast."

She smiled faintly. "You have a good heart. Strong. Healthy."

Then she looked up at me and chuckled softly.

"You might just get your wish after all."

She smirked.

Time seemed to stop as our eyes locked.

The door opened.

A tall, muscular man stepped into the bathroom. He looked ancient-maybe early thirties-but there was something older about him. His skin was pale and cold, just like hers.

He didn't seem surprised by what he saw.

Slowly, he said, "Are you sure about what you're about to do?"

"There's only one way to find out," she replied.

The man turned and walked out, closing the door behind him.

"I-I need to leave," I said, summoning every ounce of courage I had.

I pulled her hand away and rushed toward the door.

Suddenly, her grip closed around my neck from behind-ice-cold. She slammed my head against the wall.

Everything went black.

---

I woke up on the cold floor of one of the bathroom stalls.

My head throbbed as I slowly stood. A sharp pain shot through my neck. I staggered to the mirror.

Blood.

Dried blood on my chin. Stains on my shirt. Two small puncture marks on my neck.

Did she bite me? I thought.

Panicking, I washed my face and tried to clean the blood from my shirt as best as I could. Then I left the bathroom.

He was still there.

The tall man.

He grabbed my shirt and pulled me closer. He leaned in, sniffing the bite marks on my neck for a few seconds.

Then he let go.

Without a word, he turned and walked away.

Moments later, Mark and both girls rushed toward me. Their faces were filled with concern.

I could tell something was wrong.

"How far-what happened in there?" Mark asked first, looking confused. "You've been in there for like thirty minutes, and whoever that was wouldn't let me in."

I tried to remember what had happened, but everything felt hazy, like my mind was wrapped in fog. The harder I tried, the worse it got.

"I... umm... I-uhhh..."

"Who was that girl?" Daniella asked, worry etched across her face. Then her eyes dropped to my neck. "And what's that on your neck?"

I ignored the question and looked at all of them. "The girl," I said quickly. "Do you know where she went?"

"She took off," Mark replied.

"Which direction?"

"I don't know."

I tried to move, tried to push past them to look for her, but suddenly my legs felt weak. The room began to spin. Everything blurred.

The noise around me faded until all I could hear was a sharp, high-pitched ringing in my ears.

Then-nothing.

This has to be a dream.

Of course it is.

I was standing in my father's house-clean, neat, untouched. That alone made it impossible. The house had burned down when I was fourteen. There was nothing left of it but ashes and smoke-stained memories.

Is this what lucid dreaming feels like?

I walked through the sitting room and sat on the long, grey couch pushed against the wall. The moment I did, memories came rushing in-violent and uninvited.

I remembered the night I fell asleep and wet myself on this very couch. The sharp, brutal sting of my father's belt crashing against my back, snapping me awake. His shouts. The way I ran as he chased me around the house, threatening to kill me.

I remembered lying on this same couch years later, staring at the air conditioner above my head, rehearsing what I would type before confessing my feelings to my first crush on F******k.

I smiled faintly.

Then the memories stopped.

Something felt... wrong.

I stood up.

The sitting room was gone.

I turned slowly, my heart beginning to race, and realized I was standing in the middle of a forest. Tall trees surrounded me, their branches stretching overhead like watching arms. I looked back where the couch had been.

It was gone.

I was alone.

A twig snapped to my right.

I spun around.

A dark figure moved between the trees.

"Who's there?" I shouted.

The movement stopped.

I took a few cautious steps forward, squinting through the shadows. The figure became clearer.

It was a child.

A small boy.

His skin was pitch black, as if he'd been rubbed head to toe in charcoal. His eyes were empty-lifeless. Dead.

Fear crept up my spine.

The boy suddenly darted behind a large tree and disappeared.

I swallowed hard, then forced myself to move. I walked toward the tree, each step heavier than the last.

He was there.

Sitting on the ground. Knees pulled to his chest. Face buried in his arms.

I squatted in front of him, my hands shaking. Slowly, gently, I placed my hand on his head-thick with familiar hair-and lifted his face.

I gasped and stumbled backward.

My heart slammed violently against my ribs.

The boy was me.

Alright-let's continue, keeping the tone dark, mysterious, cinematic, and true to everything you've built so far.

---

I came back slowly.

Not all at once-piece by piece. Sound returned first. A low hum. Beeping. Muffled voices. Then pain.

My eyes fluttered open.

White light stabbed into them, forcing me to squint. The smell hit next-antiseptic, plastic, something sterile and unforgiving. I was lying on a narrow bed. My head felt heavy, my body heavier.

"Daniel?" a voice said.

I turned my head slightly. Mark was there, sitting on a plastic chair beside the bed. He looked exhausted-eyes red, face pale.

"You scared the shit out of us, man," he said quietly.

I tried to speak, but my throat was dry. My tongue felt thick, useless. All that came out was a weak sound.

"Easy," another voice said.

A nurse stepped into view. Middle-aged. Calm. Too calm. She checked the monitor beside me, then shined a small light into my eyes.

"You collapsed at a bar," she said. "Your friends brought you in. Dehydration, alcohol intoxication, and shock. You're lucky."

Lucky.

The word felt wrong.

My hand moved instinctively to my neck.

Bandages.

My heart skipped.

"What... happened to me?" I asked finally, my voice hoarse.

Mark exchanged a glance with the nurse.

"You fainted," he said. "Hit the floor pretty hard."

I shook my head slightly. "No. Before that. The girl."

Mark frowned. "Which girl?"

My stomach dropped.

"The girl in the bathroom," I said. "Black jacket. Pale skin. Red lips and a guy too-tall. Pale. He grabbed me when I came out."

Mark swallowed. "Bro... when you fell to the floor, we could only rush you to the hospital."

The room felt colder.

The nurse cleared her throat. "You're going to need rest."

I leaned back, staring at the ceiling. My pulse thudded in my ears-slow, heavy, powerful.

Too powerful.

"Can I see the bite marks?" I asked quietly.

Mark hesitated, then gently pulled the bandage aside.

Two small punctures stared back at me.

Perfect. Clean.

Not the kind you get from falling.

Mark's voice dropped. "The doctor said it looked like... an animal bite. But he couldn't place it."

I closed my eyes.

A memory surfaced-her voice, close to my ear.

You might just get your wish after all.

That's when it happened.

The beeping machine beside me spiked.

My chest tightened. Then burned.

I gasped, clutching the sheets as a deep, violent heat spread through my veins-like fire mixed with ice. My vision sharpened suddenly. Too sharp.

I could hear everything.

The nurse's heartbeat.

Mark's breathing.

Footsteps down the hallway-three rooms away.

"What's wrong?" Mark said, standing up.

"I don't know," I whispered. "Something's-"

The lights flickered.

Then the pain stopped.

Just like that.

Silence.

The nurse stared at the monitor. "That's... strange."

"What?" Mark asked.

She turned the screen toward us.

My heart rate had dropped.

Way below normal.

But I felt fine.

Better than fine.

I sat up.

Mark stepped back instinctively. "Daniel...?"

"I'm okay," I said.

And for the first time in my life, I meant it.

Outside the window, night had fully settled over Abuja. The city lights glowed softly.

Somewhere in the distance, I felt it.

A pull.

Like hunger.

Like a voice calling my name.

And deep down, beneath the fear, beneath the confusion-

I smiled.

I had never felt so alive.

All at once, adrenaline and euphoria surged through me, flooding every vein. I felt unstoppable-like I could take over the world. The only thing I hated was being trapped in that hospital bed