Chapter 01 Bleeding Out

The night's chill pierced my skin, sending goosebumps across my body. I yanked my scarf up higher, trying to shake off the shivers. The snow crunched under my boots as I trudged through the city, headed home after yet another grueling late shift.

God, my feet hurt.

Why on earth did I think working in a bar was a good idea? The stench of booze clung to my clothes like a bad hangover, and another hopeless try-hard had made a feeble attempt to score my number.

Why am I doing this to myself?

Maybe I should've just quit, but then again, it's not like I had much of a choice. Why did university have to be so damn exhausting and wallet-draining? Not like I hadn't already taken on a back-breaking loan – no, I still had to work alongside uni just to put food on my plate.

It was well past three in the morning, and I had measly five hours until my dreaded morning class. To make matters worse it happened to be the most mind-numbing one – art history. I could fall asleep at the mere thought of it. I don't mind Renaissance art, but my professor knows how to suck the joy out of everything. Maybe I can sneak into the far back and catch some extra sleep, might be risky though.

I walked on, the only thing on my mind was collapsing into my bed and drifting off to sleep. I kept trudging through the snow, hoping that the faster I walked, the sooner I could bury myself in my soft sheets. Maybe even squeeze in a quick, hot shower before snuggling up. Skipping class altogether was starting to sound like a tempting idea.

As I approached my apartment, I glanced around at the eerily empty streets. At least there weren't many people around, just the occasional hum of cars and the wailing of sirens in the distance. The city had its charm when it wasn't obnoxiously overcrowded. Centurie-old brick buildings stood alongside towering skyscrapers, all bathed in the glow of neon signs and screens. Shame, though, all that artificial light drowned out any chance of catching a glimpse of the stars.

I looked up, spellbound by the snowflakes shimmering in the soft glow of the streetlamps… I didn't even notice how my thouhts had drifted until I stumbled over something while turning the corner into the narrow, dimly lit alley leading to my apartment.

My gaze shifted downward.

My breath hitched in my throat.

Blood…?

A looming, shadowy figure, sprawled against the building's wall. Crimson stained the snow around him, forming a gruesome pool of blood. His stomach bled profusely, the black fabric of his attire was torn to shreds, unveiling the menacing wound. He clutched it with one hand, leaving his jewelry stained with marks of scarlet. His eyes were hidden behind a veil of long, obsidian hair that tumbled over his face as he hunched forward.

Shit! Is he concious?

My body froze in panic. My mind went blank until a grunt escaped him, pulling me back to reality. His imposing frame shifted ever so slightly.

"Hello!? Can you hear me?" I called out, my eyes locked onto him as I stepped a little closer, a knot of anxiety tightening in my chest. My heart raced, every beat pounding like a drum, every nerve on edge, waiting anxiously for any sign of a response. 

Nothing.

Just another grunt and more restless shifting. His breath was shallow, creating delicate puffs of fog in the winter air.

This isn't good…

I had to act fast. I rumaged in my bag, looking for my phone. My thoughts were a frenzied blur, with time dragging and racing all at once. Finally, my fingers closed around my phone, but they trembled, unsure if it was panic or the cold. I bit down hard on the fabric of my glove, tearing it away. Unlocking the phone screen felt like an eternity. I dialed. The phone rang.

Come on, come on! Pick up!

"What's your emergency?" a voice sounded from the phone.

"I need he—"

Suddenly, something shifted in the corner of my eye. Before I could react, the stranger sprang to his feet, towering over me. His hand firmly gripped my wrist, the rings on his fingers pressing into my skin, sending a twinge of pain through me. The blood on his hand now stained my skin as well. He swiftly yanked the phone away from my ear, ending the call.

My heart jumped into my throat. His touch sent a chill racing through my body, leaving goosebumps in its wake. His dark eyes bore into mine, locking me in place. With him so close, I could finally see his ruggedly handsome face, complete with a subtle scar tracing a path across his lips. I nearly lost myself in his piercing gaze until his voice sliced through the silence. 

"Don't," he growled, a warning that sent shivers down my spine, his eyebrows furrowed at me in an annoyance.

What the—?

Was he out of his mind? Bleeding out, wound gushing, and he claimed he didn't need help? His skin... It felt colder than the snow. Despite his imposing presence, he shivered slightly.

"Are you stupid?!" I snapped.

But his only response was a deep, ominous growl, his eyes narrowing into an angry scowl. It was obvious he had no intention of letting me call for an ambulance, but leaving him in this state wasn't an option. Why did he refuse help? Was he a criminal on the run or something? Even then, letting him die like this didn't sit right with me.

"Do you have a death wish?!" I questioned his sanity, tugging at my hand that was still trapped in his grasp.

"I don't need help," he snarled, his face drawing closer to mine as he tightened his grip on my wrist, his gaze even more intimidating.

"Oh, please! You're literally bleeding out! At least…" I hesitated.

Should I really do this? God, Violet, are you really going to be this fucking stupid?

…

"At least let me stop the bleeding. I have a first aid kit at home," I offered, begrudgingly.

Damn it, why on earth was I doing this? Sure, he was good looking. Yes, he was on the brink of death. But that didn't mean he wasn't a total psycho. Then again, given his current state, there was no way he could pose any real threat. Or could he?

Just as I started to second-guess myself, I sensed his body shift, leaning in slightly as his grip loosened, and his eyebrows relaxed a little. My heart raced in response, and I could feel his penetrating gaze on me. My knees turned to jelly.

Pull yourself together, Violet!

"Fine," his voice resonated in my ears, still tinged with darkness, but now carrying a gentler tone. He released my wrist.

Well fuck me. There's no turning back now.

"This way..." I said, motioning towards the building with my apartement.

As we started walking, I couldn't help but notice his unsteady swaying, like he struggled to stay uprigh. Seriously? Well, I couldn't leave him to stumble around and maybe hurt himself even more. Stepping up to his side, I offered my support, letting him lean on me as we took those final few steps. With the height difference it must've looked ridiculous. Thank god my apartment was just a few steps away.

Hell, why is he so heavy?

I hoped he wouldn't be the death of me. If he truly was a lunatic, knives weren't necessary; his sheer weight alone might be enough to seal my fate. But it was obvious that he was making an effort not to lean on me too heavily, probably afraid he'd take us both down if he did. With such close proximity, the metallic stench of his blood filled my nose. There was probably a trail of blood leading right to the building now…

As we reached the doorstep, I rummaged through my bag, my fingers fumbling with my keys. His weight shifted in an unsettling way, and my heart raced as I struggled to unlock the door. Finally, it creaked open, and the harsh reality struck me like a cold gust of wind. The narrow wooden staircase with its ancient metal railing taunted me – How on earth was I supposed to haul him all the way up to my apartment?

I stole a quick side-glance at him. He was still shivering; I could see and feel it. Leaving him to wait in this chilly hallway seemed cruel. It wasn't much warmer than outside. He needed warmth... and my apartment might offer just enough of it.

"Uh...," I mumbled, "Could you... manage the stairs yourself?"

I sensed his weight shifting once more, and he let out a exasperated sigh as he began to stand on his own.

"Sure," his voice sounded strained.

I climbed the stairs, my gaze constantly darting back to make sure he didn't face-plant and end up in worse shape. I couldn't risk my own life to save a stranger, only for him to tumble down the stairs and meet a tragic end anyway. The aged wood creaked and groaned under his weight.

After what felt like an eternity, we reached the second floor. I stepped ahead, unlocking my apartment door, while he trailed along sluggishly. The door swung open, and I held it wide for him to enter. My eyes couldn't help but linger on him as he approached.

He was a sight to behold. Drenched in blood, with his long, raven-black hair and dark, elegant attire that clung to his imposing frame, he looked like a character ripped from a dark fantasy novel or perhaps someone who had crawled from the depths of hell itself. Devilishly handsome, there was no denying it...

I shook my head, pushing aside my daydreams. Now was absolutely not the time for that.

Right on the edge of the threshold he stopped, staring forward... Why? He trembled and shivered, yet he hesitated. Was he trying to show off his good manners now or what?

"Uhm, feel free to come in," I encouraged, waving for him to enter.

*Thud*

The moment those words left my lips, he slumped forward and collapsed on the floor. Fuck me, was he worse off than I thought?! How did he walk up the stairs then? Panic surged within me.

I leaped over his body, using all my strength to pull him inside, nearly stumbling backward in the process. I slammed the door shut behind me and hurried into my kitchen. I didn't even bother with the lights; the moonlight was enough.

My hands and legs trembled as I rummaged through the cabinets in search of something to stop the bleeding. Thankfully, my kitchen wasn't very spacious, so it didn't take long. I snatched a clean towel and knelt beside the stranger. His breaths were shallow, his pale skin glistening with sweat.

Shit!

"Don't die now!" I begged, as if my words could make a difference.

My eyes flicked to the wound on his stomach, and I swiftly pressed the clean cloth against it to stop it from bleeding more. He groaned in pain, his body tensed up. Did I apply to much pressure? But what was I supposed to do? It wouldn't stop otherwise. His gaze seemed to slice right through me.

His eyes… are they red?

I blinked, uncertain if I was losing my mind. I could've sworn his eyes were glowing red, but it was too dark to say for sure. Unconciously, I leaned forward, applying more pressure to his wound.

"The fuck are you doing?" he barked at me with a low growl. 

I flinched from his sudden outrage. His expression twisted into something menacing, his gaze turned haunting, like a dark force building up. Instinctively, I pulled my hands away from him, my heart racing erratically, practically begging me to run.

With a brutal grip, he seized my wrist, pulling me closer. Why? What did he want from me? It all happened so fast that I couldn't even react. He leaned up, drew me in and ensnared me in his grasp, his other hand clamped onto my shoulder, nails digging into my flesh. His imposing figure loomed over me. A sharp gasp escaped my lips as fear flooded my veins with adrenaline.

He fletched his teeth at me, they gleamed like sharp fangs, his gaze filled with a predatory hunger. Leaning closer, his face hovered right next to my ear, his breath a teasing caress on my skin.

"You're going to regret that," he whispered into my ear.

"No! I didn't mean to —" I began to protest, but it was clear he wouldn't listen anyway.

My heart raced, pounded, panicked. I felt a cold, piercing pain, as though two ice daggers were penetrating my skin. His touch was icy and intense, yet his breath was scorching against my throat. I winced in pain. My warm blood dripped down... His lips pressed against my neck, his tongue traced the wound, leaving me a shaking mess.

"Stop—" I shouted, though my voice faltered. 

I attempted to fight back, shoving and throwing punches with my free hand, but it was hopeless. He didn't budge or flinch; his grip only tightened, my flesh aching and bleeding beneath his nails. Yet, the pain in my neck surpassed all else. 

A soft whimper escaped my lips, a last, feeble attempt to resist. I felt my body gradually growing colder, my vision dimming. Tears rolled down my cheeks...

Is this a nightmare?

Will I wake up again…?