Carnal

Chapter Thirty-Eight - The One Behind It

"Don't wait up for me."

Easier said than done.

I laid awake in bed that night for hours upon hours, just thinking.

I felt guilty for being the one who said the hard stuff to Cain, for feeling like I had crossed a line. I mean, I barely knew the guy and there I was psychoanalyzing his emotional intimacy issues like they were any of my business. 

But that was the part that had me torn: I felt like those issues were my business. 

I had a sense of entitlement in regards to his relational problems given that I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with him. We'd tasted each other's blood for Christ sake. I'd saved his life and he had saved mine. We weren't strangers who had decided to hook up casually; we were practically soul mates according to his culture and tradition. 

I could finally understand from a personal perspective why relationship difficulty was near the top of the list of reasons people sought out therapy. 

A few hours went by of endlessly, mindlessly staring up at the ceiling. 

Despite the room being completely dark, I could still see everything around me as though the ceiling lights were on. Accompanied by the thoughts that plagued me, the clarity of my vision around the room made it impossible to sleep. 

When Cain came upstairs that morning to tell me that we would be leaving for the meeting soon, I was still as wide awake as I had been when he left the room the night before. 

Even though Cain's phone calls that night had only lasted about an hour or so, he never came back upstairs. 

As desperate as I was to apologize yet again for my prying, I gave him the space I'm sure he wanted. 

Seeing him that morning, however, I could tell there was more space to be needed. He was quiet and reserved, only talking when he absolutely needed to and never staying too close. It stung, but I resigned that he would warm back up to me when he was ready and there was nothing I could do to force that. 

When I went downstairs after getting ready, there was a large cup sitting on the counter next to an empty blood bag. 

I looked to Cain. He was standing next to the counter with his attention glued to his phone that was in one hand as he casually drank from a similar cup that was in the other. 

"Is this for me?" I asked, picking up the cup to glance inside, despite knowing exactly what the contents were.  

His attention never leaving his phone, he nodded. 

Trying to ignore the fact that I was being ignored, I took the cup and gulped down the blood before my body realized what it was and made me cough it back up. 

"You should drink that slowly." 

"It's disgusting," I argued, placing the cup back down on the counter as I grimaced. 

"You'll get used to it." 

While the taste itself wasn't bad at all, it was the psychological aspect of drinking blood that made it nearly unbearable to swallow. 

I felt my stomach lurch and I stopped myself from giving it another thought. 

Cain walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out an aluminum water bottle. He handed it to me. 

"This is for you. You'll need this throughout the day." 

I took it from him, trying not to think about what was inside the bottle.