Chapter 57 Chapter 57

Chapter 57 Chapter 57

That night did not bring sleep right away.
I lay on my back, hands folded over my stomach, counting seconds by the irregular ticking of the wall clock. Dahlia was already asleep, her back turned toward me, her hair spilled across the thin pillow. Her breathing was steady, but I knew better than to trust it. At some point, hunger always found a way in.
I closed my eyes.
Calm down, Elysian. Just listen. Listen to the city.
From outside came the sound of motorcycles passing, the laughter of drunken people, music drifting from a bar that hadn’t closed yet. A human city never truly slept. It breathed loudly—noisy, restless, full of blood flowing beneath fragile skin.
Don’t think about that.
I turned to face the wall. Cold concrete pressed against my forehead. The smell of dampness crept into my nose.
We’ve come this far, I told myself. Don’t lose focus now.
I was almost asleep when Dahlia moved.
Not a small restless shift. The movement was sharp—like someone waking from a nightmare.
I sat up immediately. “Dahlia?”
No answer.
She slowly pushed herself upright, her shoulders stiff. Her hands clenched the bedsheet.
“Dahlia,” I said again, firmer this time.
“I…” Her voice was hoarse. “Kak.”
I got out of bed and knelt in front of her. Her face was pale—paler than usual. Her eyes gleamed unnaturally, her pupils dilated, nearly swallowing the irises.
“How bad is it?” I asked quietly.
She swallowed. The movement of her throat was too pronounced. “It hurts. Like… like there’s fire in my throat.”
My heart began to race. “When was the last time you drank?”
“Last night,” she said. “It should still be enough. But now—”
She stopped. Her breathing quickened.
“Don’t stand up,” I said quickly when she tried to rise. “Stay here. Look at me.”
“I can smell it,” she whispered. “From outside. From downstairs. There’s so much of it.”
I cupped her face with both hands. Her skin was cold. “Dahlia. Listen to me. That’s just the city. You’re stronger than this.”
She let out a small laugh, almost desperate. “Kak… I don’t feel strong.”
Those words tightened something painfully in my chest.
I stood and grabbed the cooler box from the corner of the room. Empty. I already knew the answer, but I opened it anyway, as if hoping for a miracle.
Damn it.
I went back to her. “We’ll breathe together. Follow me.”
She gave a small nod.
“One,” I said. “Inhale.”
She drew a breath, her chest rising and falling too fast.
“Slowly. Two.”
“It’s hard,” she whispered. “I want to go outside.”
“No.” My voice was firm, not loud. “You’re not going outside.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I can smell them. Sweat. Blood under their skin. Kak, I’m afraid I’m going to—”
I pressed my forehead against hers. “Look at me.”
She opened her eyes.
“You’re not alone,” I said. “Whatever happens, I’m here. Do you hear me?”
She let out a soft sob. “I don’t want to become a monster.”
“You’re not a monster,” I replied quickly. “You’re hungry. That’s different.”
Her hands gripped my arm, her nails almost breaking the skin. I didn’t pull away.
“I’m sick,” she said. “I’m not strong enough.”
“We’ll find a way,” I said. My mind worked fast. A clinic wasn’t possible tonight. No donors. We had money, but money didn’t buy blood.
My gaze fell on my work bag.
A folding knife.
My heart stopped for a fraction of a second.
No. Don’t be stupid.
But my mind offered no alternative.
I took a deep breath. “Dahlia.”
She looked up, her eyes red. “What?”
“I’m going to do something,” I said. “You have to promise me.”
“Promise what?”
“You stop before it goes too far.”
She stared at me, confused. “I don’t understand.”
I took the knife and opened it slowly. The small click sounded far too loud in the cramped room.
Dahlia froze. “Kak. Don’t.”
“I know the limit,” I said—more to myself than to her. “This is just to hold you over. Just a little.”
“No,” she said quickly. “That’s dangerous.”
“You’re more dangerous right now,” I replied honestly. “And I won’t let you go outside.”
She shook her head hard. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t,” I said. “I’m the one choosing.”
I drew the blade across my arm. A shallow cut—just enough for blood to surface. The metallic scent filled the air immediately.
Dahlia gasped. Her eyes darkened.
“Don’t look,” I said quickly. “Focus on my voice.”
Too late.
She smelled it.
Her body tensed. Her breathing stopped for a split second.
“Dahlia,” I said firmly. “Listen. Just a little. If you lose control, I will stop you.”
She trembled. “I… I don’t know if I can.”
“You can,” I said. “Because you choose to.”
She hesitated. Long. Too long.
Then she leaned closer.
Her lips were cold against my skin. I bit my own lip, holding back a sound as her fangs pierced me. Sharp pain flared—then softened into a warm sensation that weakened my knees.
Just a little, I told myself. Just a little.
I felt her draw from me, controlled but starving. Her hands gripped my shoulder tightly.
“That’s enough,” I whispered after a few seconds. “Dahlia. Enough.”
She didn’t stop.
“Dahlia,” my voice rose. “Stop.”
She jerked back as if waking from a trance, breathing hard. Blood stained her lips.
“I—” She covered her mouth with her hand. “I almost—”
“It’s okay,” I said, even as my head felt light. I pressed cloth to the wound. “You stopped. That’s what matters.”
She looked at me with tear-filled eyes. “I hurt you.”
“You saved yourself,” I replied. “And I’m fine.”
That was a lie—but not entirely.
We sat in silence for a while. Her breathing gradually steadied. Color returned to her cheeks.
“I hate it,” she said softly. “The part of me that wants that.”
“I know,” I said. “I hate it too.”
She lowered her head. “If I hadn’t stopped—”
“I would have stopped you,” I said honestly. “By any means necessary.”
She nodded. “Thank you… for trusting me.”
I looked at my arm. The wound was already beginning to close. “You kept your promise.”
We cleaned the blood, opened the window slightly to let the scent dissipate. I replaced the bandage as best I could.
“From now on,” I said, “we don’t wait until it gets like this again.”
“What’s the plan?”
“We find a safe source,” I replied. “An underground community, a broker—something. A city this big has to have one.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
I looked at her. “Then we build one.”
She was quiet for a moment, then smiled faintly. “You sound terrifying.”
“I’m learning from necessity.”
Dawn arrived with pale light. We hadn’t slept, but exhaustion finally claimed us. Dahlia lay down first. I followed, keeping a small distance, staying alert even with my eyes closed.
Before sleep took me, one thought settled in my mind.
We couldn’t keep living like this—surviving one night at a time.
.