“Who are you,” I said, still trying to adjust to being awake. “Just let me in, I’ve got a guy with me, name’s John, does that ring a bell?” John? Could it be John Livingston? My best friend that I’ve known since elementary school. “John? Are you out there?” “He’s asleep, passed out drunk from last night, please just let us in, my arms are getting tired.” Maybe I wasn’t thinking clearly, I did just wake up. But for some reason I decided to open the door without another thought.

“Boy, this is some nice place you got here. Anyways where do you want me to put him?” “Uhh, just there on the couch I guess, I’m sorry, why do you have my friend John passed out drunk in your arms, and why did you bring him to me?”

As I waited on a response I took a moment to note a few things about this guy, he was tall, like extremely tall, probably 6,10 at least. I could tell because I myself am 6,4 and not many can tower over me like he did. Another thing I noticed was how skinny he was, almost like he hadn’t eaten in days. Other then that and his height, everything else seemed normal, black hair, white teeth, and overall looked pretty well put together. He was quite pale though.

“Well long story short, last night I had a few friends and family member over to celebrate my birthday. And we were having a good time, until we heard a loud pounding at the door. It was your friend John. As soon as we let him in, we could tell he had been frightened, he was pale and out of breath. When we finally calmed him down he told us that he went up to the old abandoned house down the road. He said he had been bored and wanted something fun and exciting to do, so why not go exploring. He then told us a long story about how there was a creepy old guy who had been living in the house, he got scared, ran to our house, blah blah blah. We got tired of listening to him and I didn’t want my special day to be ruined so we just kinda forced him to get drunk, and soon enough he forget the whole thing.”

“Ok, he did talk to me earlier this week about exploring the old abandoned house, but I didn’t think he was serious.”

“Apparently so, and before you ask, I knew to bring him here because while he was drunk he started talking about you. And where you lived and that he was gonna come see you.” This was all a lot to take in, as it had still only been less than an hour ago since I woke up, but I think I was finally starting to accept this. But before I thanked the man and ushered him out, I came to a sudden realization. John doesn’t drink, and it isn’t just some personal preference, he is ALLERGIC TO ALCOHOL! I immediately knew something was off about this guy. Knowing something was wrong, I knew I had to act fast.

“Hey would you mind going into my bedroom in the back and grabbing a clean set of clothes, so I can give them to John when he makes,” I said, hoping to buy some time.

Luckily, he agreed and left, as soon as he did I checked for a pulse. Sure enough, to my dismay, there wasn’t one.

John is dead.

I don’t know if it was the adrenaline or what but I didn’t tear up or feel sad, because I knew this wasn’t over.

Leaving John to go find that guy that brung him in, I noticed something g on john’s neck, a bite mark?

There were two indents into his neck, almost like those of a dogs long canines, or fangs.

Running into the bedroom to find the guy, I slipped. My heart had been practically pounding out of my chest and I couldn’t think straight. I tried to get up, but I was grabbed by that same guy who brung John to me. Forcing himself on me, I couldn’t move, he was so skinny, how could he be this strong??

Laying on the ground, helpless, I watched as he opened his mouth wide, revealing his massive fangs.

The feeling of his cold teeth on my neck made me sick. I couldn’t move. The sound of his teeth sliding into my veins was horrifying.

I must have passed out from the adrenaline, because I’ve now just woken up, still lying on the door here in my bedroom. Blood gushing out of neck, from the puncture his teeth left. I know I’m going to die. He’s nowhere to be seen, obviously left to escape the crime scene. I can’t muster up enough energy to grab my phone to call 911. I can’t do anything.