Dreaming Hero

Out of all the parts of humanity, Peter missed the feel of his beating heart the most.

Two Years Ago…

“What’ve we got?”

“Teenage boy, seventeen years old. Passed out during soccer practice at school. His vitals show he’s experiencing severe anemia.”

“That’s the fifth one this week. What the hell is going on?”

( Peter watched the doctors wheel off the teenager )

The two men sat together passing a bottle of whiskey between them. Although neither of them could get drunk, the liquor helped wash away the blood that stained their fangs from earlier in the evening.

( In front of them stood a collection of tombstones )

Peter felt groggy when he cracked open his eyes. All he could see was pure darkness, and when he tried to sit up his forehead bumped up against something wooden. Dazed, he ran his fingers over the cool surface. He needed to get out. Peter pushed against the wood with his hands and knees; the wood began to crack under his strain. Finally it gave way and dirt began to pour in. Peter could sense he was close and started clawing his way up.

( He burst out of the ground, coughing out bits of dirt )

He walked out of the hospital, bidding everyone a good night. It was pleasantly cool so he took a longer way home than usual. Peter didn’t need to breathe but he took in the cool air now, loving how it smelled. He wished that Rigby could be there with him, but it was even more satisfying knowing that she was at home waiting for him.

( Peter turned a corner, stopping dead in his tracks )

( Back )
--
( Neck )
--
( Shoulder )
--
( French Kiss )

Fear me or love me

( He could feel a trail of hot blood slowly making its way down his chin )