I'm Fine

Catherine knew she half-stumbled onto the bus like a drunkard, struggled to grasp the few coins in her pocket to pay and failed twice to recognise a ten pence piece from a pound before giving up to drop whatever she guessed would be enough.

She ignored whatever the driver said to her.

"It's fine," she muttered in response and waited the few seconds before taking her ticket in a shaking hand. To the back, she thought, dragging her feet and fumbling for a hold on whatever she could grasp before loosing her balance completely. I can do this. Everything's fine, she soothed, forcing her legs to move for the back of the bus where the seats (she thanked whatever deity existed for her luck) were empty, devoid of the eyes fixed on her as she shambled past.

Not like they'd understand, she considered, reaching the back row of empty seats and looked down upon them before being jostled by the motion of the bus moving off.  Unsurprisingly to everyone there she lost her balance and landed awkwardly on the seat. "I'm fine," she said more to herself than anyone there while shuffling along to the window seat and turning around to sit back properly.

Finally, she thought and let her head hang loosely forward, body following suit, leading to her resting her head on the handlebar back of the seat in front of her. She didn't care about the person in front. All she could think about was how great it felt to finally be off her useless legs that had refused to move this morning until she dragged herself out of bed, struggling across the floor with fingers losing their strength to grip anything in her reach. But I'm fine, she concluded, relieved to have a half-an-hour trip to university ahead to compose herself.

In her stupor she could envision the journey: houses and bus stops coming and going; shops closed for business being reopened once more; someone making their way by foot while blissfully unaware how much torture life could become in a matter of weeks. And as those titbits swirled around her head, she couldn't stop herself from thinking of the hunger and thirst clawing at her, interlinked like they were meant to be one of the same, unmistakable equals in her need to eat anything which could satisfy instead of the dry taste of everything. What would be better? She knew, the answers were there, clear as the sting of daylight on her hands and face. The way it could be for some of the red-stuff, sweet and foul at the same time. Like a dream she could reach out into the void for it by capturing her prey to bite into them and taste the red-stuff as it ran from the wound.

"No," she mumbled, banishing the thought. I'm just hungry, that's all it is, she reasoned, cajoling herself back up to sitting and watching the world go by her empty reflection instead. It was hard to notice anyone else sitting by her, never guessing until they placed a hand upon her shoulder and drew her exhausted attention. Eyes half-lidded followed by a dopey smile, she turned expectantly for a friendly face only to have it stolen away by the familiar pair faded blue eyes gazing at her.

"Hello," they said in a hushed voice.

The one thing Catherine wanted to do more than anything was to run at that. God she wanted to run and trip and fall and crawl away if it meant she could get away from the raven head of hair and sickly purplish cheeks, but for nothing, her legs failed to move an inch as the feeling crept up on her.

Not now! Not now! Not now! She thought furiously, trying to force her body to drop forwards only for a hand to take her by the shoulder and calmly hold her back. "What did you do?" she wanted to shout only for it to come as a whisper only the woman beside could hear.

"Nothing," she answered, "it's just your body beginning to do what it does best during the day….sleep, which you've done for the last two hours since you got on."

"No, that's…." she mumbled and trailed off as she failed to find her mobile in any of her pockets.

"Trust me, it is," she said solemnly, grasping Catherine's hand from the outside of a pocket and guiding it out. "At the next stop we're getting off and whatever you decide to do, kick or scream or whatever your unnourished mind can muster, I won't allow it."

"No."

"Sorry, but you've left me with no choice," she said, baring her teeth in a weak smirk. "You're lucky, you should've seen who I had for company when it happened to me. No one at all."

"Your problem."

"It is, isn't it? I let myself get taken away at the sight of the red-stuff and you pay for it so please understand you need this."

"I don't need anything from you…Elisabeth. I'm fine," she insisted, balling her hands, desperate to make her legs move. Just move, I can deal with this.

"I'm impressed you've gotten this far into the day without dropping off sooner. You're practically running on empty. Do you have any idea what's going to happen once your head can't handle it anymore? No," Elisabeth punctuated with a tap on Catherine's forehead. "Once it's gotten the better of you, no matter who you care about, they won't be safe from the feral monster searching for food."

The bus slowed and Catherine felt an arm swoop under her arms. "You do what you want," she said beginning to pull Catherine up with ease, "but I'm getting you back to my place."

"Let me go," she croaked, trying to pull away and failing against the hold, arm now draped over Elisabeth's shoulders.

"Catherine, you've got to be more careful when you go out like this. You could trip and hurt yourself," Elisabeth began in a voice loud enough to draw the attention of everyone they passed by on the bus. "Think about how it could've gone once you got to class," she continued on her way hefting Catherine off the bus and down the street.

Catherine would've shouted, even screamed her heart out, if Elisabeth hadn't been absolutely right. Her body seemed inclined to betray her at every step, stealing one option, tempting her with another, and stealing that one away as well while being forced to hear Elisabeth spout some poor excuses about her having a bad cold and helping her get back home. She had never hated someone so much as she hated Elisabeth right there.

I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine, she thought as her legs were the most blatant in their refusal to respond to any and all commands, never moving beyond a twitch as they scraped along the ground, scuffing up her shoes and causing her to wonder if she flourished into an impossible shade of red at the idea people thinking she was well and truly plastered in the middle of the day. That, and Elisabeth being so blasé about the whole thing, drove her to scream feebly as her voice refused to go above a single octave of fury, just a whimper and croak of barely heard threats and pitiful cries.

She wanted to believe this wasn't happening, grasping for the straws as the possibilities shrunk one after another. She couldn't stand knowing the arm around her, the weak smile trying to reassure pointlessly. God she wanted to strike Elisabeth down, kick her, do everything under the sun to make her know this wasn't what she wanted….but deep down, something told her it would be ok to loose control, everything would be fine once she woke up, refreshed as the first time when it all happened. Blissfully aware and unaware of the world as she enjoyed all the things the past had, certainties, rationality, reason, simplicity instead of this, a shambling wreck, barely able to control herself as she stumbled, more zombie of the day than night when she felt more composed, able to do more.
"Nearly there, and then….well…you know," Elisabeth muttered clearly enough for Catherine to hear who responded by shoving at her.

My body….my rules, she thought in disintegrating thoughts, spiralling further out of her control. She hated that so much, even her own head, the one place she should be comfortable, betrayed her as outright as her legs. Arms weren't even at her disposal now, just hanging around Elisabeth's limply like willow branches.

My body….by rules….by body….my truths….by toddy….. she whimpered as those words became the few scraps of thought her head would let her think clearly, everything in mind and body together as one shambling wreck in the day.

Ever since the accident the sight of Elisabeth made her want to snub her at every chance, ignoring her to the epitome of the word, never striving to even acknowledge her even when she tripped up the first few times and needed someone to help her back up. Elisabeth had been there, like a spectre keeping an eye on the living only because she had to take bloody responsibility for what she did to her.

They finally came to where Elisabeth made her home. All Catherine could think about was when she could walk away as Elisabeth guided her and came to place her on the couch like a doll and made her comfortable like her carer.

"I'm sorry. I know this isn't good enough, but I can't let you be like this any longer," Elisabeth began, kneeling at her side like she was making a pointless confession to Catherine who could only eye her with distain. "You see this?" she continued, pointing at her wrist where the skin had long since healed since that day five weeks before, "the moment I cut here you're going find it impossible to do anything but bite and drink."

Just one burst of strength to hit her, that's all she asked of her body, one simple burst to strike down her tormenter and get away no matter how pathetic and shambling it would be.

"I won't ask for your permission because you won't accept," she said, seemingly smiling, "you'd rather fight it out to the end than do this….shame."

Catherine watched Elisabeth bite into her own wrist and tear away the skin to let the blood run freely for the first time in weeks. She found herself salivating as the sweet musk tantalised her. No, she thought, feeling her body begin to react by its own accord, taking those small steps towards the nourishment, towards the one who made this happen from some unbelievable careless thinking.

"I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine," she began to tell herself as the teeth protracted out of her gums to reveal sharp tipped whites of enamel.  

What was the point in doing this?

There was a point: biting into the tender flesh of the wrist, tongue lapping at the blood from the wound to be met by its foul taste. She could only think I'm fine as she finally bit down.