𝐵𝓁𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝐹𝑜𝓇 𝑀𝑒

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 05

Later that night, I’m sitting on the beaten-up sofa in my apartment as I stare up at the ceiling. I can’t do much else: at some point between this morning and the moment I came back home, the electricity company cut the power. How dare they! Okay, I haven’t paid the bills in months, but still.

I couldn’t even cook dinner: the microwave was inoperable, of course, so I had to eat stale crackers and two slices of expired ham.

Gourmet, I know.

As I sit alone, the dark room flooded in blue light every two seconds by the blinking neon sign of the sketchy tattoo studio across the street, I can’t stop thinking about Mr. Jeon’s offer.

Almighty… If I had that kind of money, I wouldn’t be eating expired ham, that’s for sure.
But you don’t, I tell myself, firmly shaking my head. Stop thinking about it, Y/N. Ça suffit.

I can’t. I’ve been trying for hours, during my shift at Cocoa and Pastries, while coming back home, and lastly as I was putting together my joke of a dinner, but my head just keeps going there.

It still feels surreal, the whole thing. How could this happen? My brain has tried to fill in the details I’m missing, such as why the clinic would give him my info. The only plausible explanation is that he paid them; he paid them to find out where the blood he clearly liked so much came from, but I can’t quite wrap my head around it: it would be the same as me bribing someone at the grocery store to learn which chicken laid the eggs I bought last week, just because they were so delicious and I wanted that specific hen all to myself.
“Absolutely crazy” I whisper to myself. And while it is crazy, my thoughts still linger there. I wouldn’t have to worry about bills, debts, food,or rent ever again.

Well, until he got tired of me, anyway.But no, it’s out of question. I shouldn’t even be thinking about it, let alone picturing my life with that kind of money on my hands. Maman is probably rolling in her grave right now: she was never particularly fond of vampires. The virus hit in the late 1800’s, so we weren’t there to witness it,but our ancestors were: they handed down stories about how at the beginning things were chaotic and violent and out of control, the very reason our lineage moved here from France at the beginning of the twentieth century.

At the time, East Asia was a safe zone: you could run into the occasional vampire, but they mostly stayed in Europe and in some parts of South Asia.

Things changed, clearly. And while I know vampires aren’t the uncontrolled savages my mother always described, warning me about their perpetual hunger, the mere thought of them still makes me a bit uneasy.

As I get up to collect the trash cluttering the coffee table, the doorbell rings three times. I glance in the direction of the wall clock; as soon as the neon sign across the street floods the room with blue, fluorescent light, I realize it’s almost midnight—way too late for Solar and Pilly, my only usual visitors. It can’t be my landlord, either: the rent has been paid and this month isn’t due for another two weeks.

Another ring, longer this time. Then I hear a sigh. “Y/N, baby, hi.It’s me.”

I freeze. The voice sounds thick and muffled, but I recognize it at once. It would be impossible not to. What is Ben doing here?

I stand still, holding my breath. I can hear his heavy, erratic footsteps stumbling outside my door, pacing back and forth.
“Open the door? Please? Kind of freezing out here.”

It’s freezing in here too, but I don’t say it out loud.
I silently release a breath. I should have known something like this was bound to happen: the main door of this ratty apartment building doesn’t close properly, so anyone can come in at any given time. Including Ben.

“Y/N, c’mon.” There’s a hint of annoyance in his voice now. “I know you’re in there. Open up.”

Yeah, sure, because I’m completely stupid.I keep quiet, a small part of me hoping it’ll be enough to make him go away.
The doorbell starts ringing again, almost aggressively. It’s so loud I bet the whole building can hear it.

“You can’t ignore me forever” he growls over the constant ringing.“You can’t, Y/N. So, open this fucking door before I tear it down.”

A loud thump follows his words, the weak wooden door vibrating.

“Go away now” I cry, my voice cracking. “We’re no longer together, you moron, and even if we were… it wouldn’t give you the right to talk to me like that!” There’s a moment of silence, then Ben starts banging on the door. Hard.

“Open the fucking door!” For a second, I can see it give in under the violence of his knocks.

I’d lock myself in the bathroom, if the bathroom had a lock or even just a proper door. I doubt a bead curtain could keep me safe.
He wouldn’t hurt me, right? I think. He’s only drunk and angry. He wouldn’t do anything.

But I’m not sure about that. I remember how he would punch walls and destroy things at any minor inconvenience, especially those last few months. It was one of the reasons I broke up with him: I felt unsafe, and love should never feel unsafe.

“You don’t get to decide whether this is over or not.” His voice is angry, a strangled cry. “It’s not. You hear me, huh? We’re still together, Y/N, we’ll be for as long as I please!” More thumps, more rings from the doorbell, more cursing and screaming.

It goes on and on and on for what feels like an eternity, before I hear a key turning in its lock, muffled footsteps, and a female voice complaining about the noise.

I don’t know who that is, but for a second I’m scared for her. Will Ben unleash his rage on this poor woman?Just as I’m thinking about going out to help her, Ben murmurs something under his breath and slowly walks away.

I run to the window and look down. It takes him almost five minutes to come out the apartment building’s door, head low and hands deep in his pockets. I don’t look away until he’s out of sight, then I let myself collapse onto the floor, a sob stuck in my throat.

Part of me hopes this will end soon, but deep down I know how unlikely it is.

What a nightmare.

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