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When Aurora awoke from the flames that had engulfed her every molecule, the first thing she realized was that she could literally see every molecule.
Okay, it was an exaggeration but still. For someone who coveted painting every single detail on canvas, the enhanced vision of the world around her was truly epic. The dust notes spiraling in the air like a galaxy of stars, the thirty-two thousand, one hundred and forty-four painted threads that made up the tapestry hanging on one of the stone walls (she had counted them all in a fraction of a second), the minuscule crack in the ancient stain-glass window was as visible and clear to her as a fluorescent sign.
Not only could she see everything, but she could hear every sound within a three-mile radius—the bell-tower ringing suddenly shocked her into a high-pitched yelp of surprise at the loudness. The other thing she heard was the loud, mouth-watering sound of blood gushing through juicy veins. No longer was she entranced by the dust notes, now there was a whimpering person crouching against the stone wall farthest from the king-sized bed she had awoken on.
Aurora felt all sense slip from her as the excruciatingly painful heat burning her throat took control over her instincts. Thirst took the forefront of her thoughts. She rushed to the body in a blur, so fast she beat the tick of the clock hanging on the wall. She was so thirsty, she felt like she hadn't had a drop of water in years. There was no time for pleasantries as she lifted the person up easily as a feather and sank her teeth into his jugular, instantly quenching the pain in her throat.
She was so thirsty and eager to drink blood that she accidentally ripped the man's head from his shoulder, as well as his arm. Oops. She continued to feast on shoulder until the fire in her throat dimmed to an ember.
It was only then that she realized she had killed someone.
Aurora looked from the severed pieces of the man to the ground soaked in blood. She felt bad—horrified and repulsed by her actions, yet a little annoyed she had wasted so much of the delicious red liquid. She realized she was also covered in it—she was halfway tempted to try and suck it off the designer dress she was wearing (and utterly ruined), but she hadn't lost complete control of herself.
She sped over to the door next to the mahogany dresser, hoping it was a bathroom, and successfully discovering that it indeed was. She also accidentally pulled the doorknob right off in her haste to open the door—another whoopsie and she had only been awake for ten minutes!
The crystal water flowed from the gold faucet, cleansing her bloodstained fingers. She frowned as she stared at her hands—there were no old scars or callouses marring her skin anymore—she was flawless. Her hands were smooth and unwrinkled, missing callouses she couldn't remember. Her nails were long and filed into perfect square tips, shiny and light pink. She felt like she was in a body that didn't belong to her.
