The sound of the clock ticking and our breath is the only thing that can be heard in the room. Taxidermied animals are the only witnesses of our meeting as their sparkless orbs are gazing at us. My feet stay rooted on the carpeted floor as my hands are now trembling, desperately trying to steady the gun with my digits.

Fuck. How should I handle this kind of difficult situation? How other people take care of this kind of event, when your own thin threads of sanity begin to snap one by one? There has to be some kind of explanation why this is happening to me. There has to be someone who already witnesses this and can give me clarification that all of this is not real. I refuse to believe this kind of thing exist.

This couldn't be real. There's no way that this is reality. I've must be dreaming. They shouldn't exist in this world. They're just one of many fictional beings in stupid horror or fantasy books. No, please someone fucking knock me back to sanity. I refuse to believe their existence is real.

 But despite me being in denial, I can't keep on doing it when one of the beings itself is dangerously standing in front of me.

He tilts his head with his red glowing eyes keep looking back at me. the sinister pair feels like it tries to devour me with his intense gaze. His porcelain skin reflects the warm light from the fireplace, defining all the dents and bumps of his chiselled feature. His thin lips are slowly curving up, displaying a menacing look on his already scary adonis face. Then the smile suddenly turns into a grin, showing off the long and pointy canines of his. I held my breath as my eyes unconsciously widen in fear at the sight of his fangs.

He slowly takes a step towards me, taunting me with his muscular figure.

I swallow my fear as I force my feet to move, keep on stepping away as to extend the gap between me and him. my trembling hands are now gripping the gun tightly, paling the tip of my digits. I try to intimidate the creature with the deadly tool in my hands, trying to make him stay away from me, "Don't you dare come any closer or I'll shoot you, Balan."

He indeed obliging to my pleading. But then he follows it with a mocking chuckle. What the... How dare he! The audacity of this creature to laugh at my threat. His taunt helps my hand to stop trembling, building up my courage as I point the gun directly towards his forehead area. His eyes widen slightly as his chuckles slowly turn into a series of sinister laughs, "You can try to kill me, little lamb. But that won't stop me to try to claim you."

His mocking tone raises my anger and without a second thought, I pull the trigger. The bullet directly hit the middle of his forehead, making his head tilts upwards and his body wobbles back several steps away because of the force. 

I shot him. I fucking shot him! I'm fucking SHOT a person. Well, he might not be a person but he indeed looks like one. And that thought successfully terrifies me greatly.

I was expecting the blood splattered on the wall behind him and see him hit the hard ground, to lay still as his eyes lose their spark. But he didn't. There's no splatter on the wall, no bullet holes on its surface. He didn't fall to the ground. He just stood there as his head still tilting upwards. Chills running on my spine the moment I see his head slightly move side to side as if stretching a tense muscle on his neck. Then his head turns back to its original place. A gaping hole is in clear view, decorating his once smooth forehead. I can see that the bullet indeed hurt him as there is some exposed fresh wound around the bullet. But, no blood leaking out of it.

I can feel myself paling up, turning into a few shades lighter the moment his fingers go inside his own wound and prying out the bullet as it was nothing. I can see the hole slowly closing as he casually looks at the small metal for a moment with a pout on his face. Then the moment he throws it into the fireplace, his forehead is already clean from the wound. As if I didn't just fucking shot that area with a fucking bullet. He then let out an amused chuckle as he wipes his fingers clean to his shirt, staining the once clean fabric with his blood.

My eyes widen because of the horrible sight, making my stomach turns uncomfortably as the urge to vomit starts to appear.

His glowing red eyes turn back to me. The sinister pair go wider in fascination the moment he looks at me, "Never thought a mere painter like you would dare to pull the trigger." his smile goes back to his face, "I love a fighter. You're an exciting one, darling."

He takes big steps towards me, making me whimper in fright and accidentally letting go of the useless gun that I held. I pivot my body and try to run away from him. But he immediately holds my waist, preventing me to get away. My body crashes to his cold and muscular one as his other hand is casually dangling at his side, mocking me how brute his strength is compared to mine. I desperately trash around, trying so hard to pry off the veiny hand that iron-grip my waist and to make a distance between me and him.

My session of trashing around immediately stop the moment he runs his fingers to my neck, making my breath hitch as my eyes frantically looking around because of fright. He let out another chuckle as he keeps on running his digits now to the side of my face, to finally intertwine them with my black locks. He then harshly pull my hair, making me yelp as he forcefully tilts my head to the side, showing the side of my neck to him.

He pulls me closer, crushing my body closer to his and begin sniffling my neck like a pervert person. He let out an exhale, tickling the spot with his cold breath, "Pleasant fragrance. Seems like you are true, a perfect little lamb."

He then pulls my hair again, making me whimper as the pain of being bent awkwardly begin to strain my neck muscle. He leans and starts to run his thin lips to my skin, tickling the surface back with his touch. Then the tickling sensation is replaced by something wet. A tongue, he runs his tongue on my neck, giving pressure as he dampened the surface with his saliva. My vision begins to get blur as fear enveloped me, unconsciously sobbing as he keeps on wetting my neck.

He then let out a mocking shushing sound as his lips still linger on my neck, sending vibration on my exposed skin, "You're scared, little lamb. It'll ruin the taste of your blood. Maybe I should please you in bed to make you taste better. After all, the taste of blood mixes with dopamine is the best one."

My blood runs cold after his statement, making my hands trying to push the chiselled chest harder as my voice finally willing to come out, "Get away from me, you monster!"

Then he let go of my hair and use the same hand to rip my shirt, tearing the fabric with his brute force as the other crush me closer to him. His hand goes back to yank my hair, tilting my head upwards as to show my throat to him. My frantic eyes keep on blinking as still leaking tears and my hand keeps on trying to push him away to no avail. 

He suddenly lifts me up, hovering me to the air and my legs start to trash around. But he positioned himself between my legs, preventing me to be able to kick him. My body starts to bend backwards at an awkward angle, hurting my back muscle because of the strain and his arm tightens the grip. My hands desperately pull his collar as I'm afraid I will accidentally fall back. But it seems impossible, considering how hard his grip is on my waist, hurting that spot with his solid muscle.

My breath begins to fasten as the tears are now pouring profusely. My sobs echo in the room, defeating the sound of the ticking clock. His lips start brushing my exposed throat down to my chest, tickling the surface with the tender pair. Then the tickling sensation replaced by pain as his fangs begins to drag on my skin, making it bleed. I choke on my own saliva, surprised by the sudden soreness. He then licks the wounds and hums in delight, "The taste of a beautiful human is truly exquisite."

Then he brings back my face and forces me to look at him, making me whimper in fear. He let out a grin, showing his canines to me. I can see the red spot on each of the tips as my blood tainted his pearly white fangs. His glowing red orbs are now showing another emotion that makes me squirm uncomfortably.

Lust. He's lusting for me.

He then forces me to lean down and crash his lips on mine, making me taste the tangy and metal taste of my own blood. I desperately trash around, punching his chest as he shoves his tongue inside my mouth. The tender organ of his keeps on swirling, tracing my cavity and submitting my tongue. I close my eyes and again, desperately tries to push him away by the chest using all of my remaining strength. But he didn't budge, his body didn't even move slightly away. It as if he's made out of stone.

The kiss feels like it lasts for a long time and I can't pull away because of his firm grip on the back of my head. He sucks every breath inside my mouth, making me dizzy because of the lack of air.

He then releases me from the lengthy kiss, making me cough and desperately inhale to force oxygen into my lungs. Strings of saliva connect our lips, indicating how hard he inserted his dominance to me.

Tiredness taking its tool, making my body limp because of exhaustion. He once again yanks my hair to look at him, making me whimper in fright. I let out sobs as I plead to him, my voice shakes and comes out in whispers, "Balan... please... let me go."

His handsome face shows a glimpse of amusement and satisfaction. The scary red orbs of his are now looking into my half-lidded ones and his lips letting out the same sinister smile.

"You're mine now, little lamb." he says and closes the distance of our lips.