Page 6 of Creatures Like Us

“Good. You’re awake.”

What the fuck? My heart jumps in my chest as I turn toward the voice, where a young man enters the room. He’s tall and lean, with long raven-black hair curtaining a pale and angular face, and his eyes?…?They’re unfathomably dark, like two black holes. He’s dressed entirely in black to go with them, making his pale skin appear ghostlike.

What in the black-metal serial-killer bullshit is this?

I draw my knees up to my chest, heart pounding. “What happened?”

“Found you out there,” the man says, his hair shifting over his face as he jerks his head toward the door. “You could’ve died.”

Coughing, I brace my elbows on the floor in an attempt to get up. “I have to get out of here.”

“Of course,” the man says. “But not yet. You’re too weak still.”

Unease tingles up my spine as he closes in, but he doesn’t touch me—instead, he crouches to poke the fire. He’s got an awkward way of moving, like a teenager with a recent growth spurt who isn’t quite yet used to his elongated limbs. This guy isn’t a teenager, even though there’s something ageless about him. He’s creepy, for sure, but there’s a weird sense of beauty to him too. Like an elf or something. A dark elf.

He turns to look at me. Our eyes meet, and his stare is one I can’t look away from. His face seems to lack the usual mannerisms and slight shifts in emotions of a normal person. He doesn’t smile, not even a little, and his eyes are completely dull and expressionless, as if they’re?…?dead.

The fire flickers behind his back, its heat lulling me back to exhaustion. I’m too tired to care about anything. I just want to sleep?…

“Go ahead,” the man, who by all intents and purposes appears to be my savior, says. “Go back to sleep. You need it.”

Yeah, I do?…?I curl up in front of the fireplace like a dog, and the last thing I see before I fall asleep is my savior’s coal-black eyes. Watching me. Guarding me. Is he guarding my well-being, or is he making sure I don’t run away?

When I wake up, I feel a little better; my limbs aren’t as heavy and my skin not as sore. That bone-deep, chilling burn is still there though.

“Are you hungry?”

I startle, turning around and finding my savior sitting by the kitchen table, eating what looks like a chicken leg. It’s small, though, smaller than a chicken. He keeps looking at me while he eats, and I find myself unable to look away from that all-consuming gaze. He would fit in a nineteenth-century photograph, expressionless and sallow, eternally captured in timeless beauty.

“My toes hurt,” I mutter.

My savior nods and keeps eating his chicken, dove, whatever it is.

“Am I going to lose them?”

He wipes himself clean on a napkin and rises from the chair. “Let me see.”

My breath catches in my throat at his approach. He’s not very broad, but his height makes up for his lack of bulk, and he must be strong to have carried me into his house from the street. As he crouches in front of me, I force myself not to flinch away. He’s helping me, after all. If what he said is true, he saved my life.

It all comes crashing back to me like a blow to the chest.

Lilith kissing that guy at the party. My own grief and witless anxiety leading me to snort oxy in the middle of the street like a moron. I could’ve died, but maybe that wouldn’t have been that bad?…?At least I wouldn’t have felt anything. No pain. I would’ve just drifted away in sleep.

The dark-eyed man bundles up the blanket to expose my feet, and it’s only then I realize I’m naked.

“What the hell?” I nearly jump out of my skin.

“Be still.”

“Y-You undressed me!”

“Your clothes were all wet by the time I got you inside.”

Fuck, this is creepy. Beyond creepy. “H-How about my toes?” I don’t know why my voice is shaking so badly. I’m not cold anymore, not really, though I feel fucking strange. Exhausted.

The firelight flickers over my feet. The tip of my big toe is completely white, and my savior presses down on the skin, making me hiss.

“Does that hurt?”