Keenan

    I looked at the two boys that stood in my kitchen.  I can't really remember anymore what one of them looked like, or ever what his name was, but Keenan was as stunning as ever.  There were so many things that first drew me to Keenan: the way his long, black hair fell across his face... the way his black-rimmed, ice blue eyes always stared coldly from beneath his bangs... the way his skin was a blinding white.  I guess what first attracted me to him wasn't actually a wanting, but more of a curiosity.  He was different - scary, even - and there was just something about his presence that made me want to be closer no matter how many times he ended up hurting me.
    "Just go over there and do it," my best friend said to me.  I didn't even remember that she was standing next to me.  She's just a faded memory now... just a name on the tip of my tongue that I can't quite grasp anymore.  She didn't have to tell me what she meant, though; I knew that we shared the same thoughts.
    I glanced at her and then slowly began to make my way to the kitchen.  Keenan didn't seem to notice my movement until my foot hit the tile on the floor.  He instinctively turned toward the noise.  Our eyes connected for only half a second before he turned back to his friend.  I continued to walk towards them.  My hands were shaking, but I refused to let him see the... I don't even know what to call it.  The nerves?  The fear?  Yeah, the fear.  I wouldn't let him see the fear that I had growing inside me of both him and my own actions towards him.
    As I approached, I knew that he could hear my heart beating inside my chest.  I tried to slow it down as best I could so that the pounding wouldn't tell him how afraid I was.  I put on an act of confidence.  Both boys turned to face me.  I took a step towards Keenan and tried to ignore his friend.  I placed a hand in the center of his chest and pushed him back against the counter.  The cool feel of his skin made me want to pull away, but something inside me wanted more to go forward.
    I slowly - slowly and cautiously - pressed my lips against his.  I could feel his body stiffen in surprise for a moment before he relaxed under my touch and kissed me back.  My heart nearly exploded as our tongues danced around each other and out bodies pressed together.
    It was almost as if I was watching from another point of view then... another vantage point.  Keenan's friend wasn't there anymore.  Neither was mine.  I could see Keenan.  His hands were pressed on the edge of the counter to hold himself steady.  I could see myself, too, leaning against him with both of my hands clutching the front of his shirt.  I watched as everything spun; a wind blew our hair to one side as both we and our surroundings quickly rotated around the center point where his feet met mine.
    I saw the walls melt away into nothingness almost as if I was watching some twisted movie.  In place of my kitchen's white tile floor and the wooden counters and painted walls, there was nothing but gray.  We stood on a hard concrete ground; the wall was lined with cement blocks.  The world stopped turning when we landed there in that room, and I was no longer seeing the world through someone else's eyes.  I pulled away from Keenan, but my hands remained clinging on to his shirt.
    He was almost breathless as he looked at me with those powerful eyes.  I could see his tongue fit perfectly into place between his two sharp teeth as he tried not to pant in front of me.  I tried to force myself to believe that those pointed teeth weren't really there, that I was just imagining them... but I knew that I wasn't.  I leaned towards him and bit at his lower lip.  He let me for a few seconds, and then he tried to push me away.  I didn't know how to react.  I just stared at him.
    "It's so hot in here," he said to me in a voice that was somewhere between a husky whisper and a threatening tone.
    "Then get undressed," I told him.  He didn't laugh or smile; he didn't tell me no or take it as a joke.
    He carefully detached my clawing fingers from his shirt and deftly pulled it over his head.  He let it fall to the floor and combed his fingers through his hair.  I stared at his bare chest and couldn't help the overwhelming feeling of want coursing through my body.  I wrapped my arms around him and pulled myself close to him.  The feeling of his skin against me was addictive.  I just wanted more.
    I slowly began to kiss his chest.  I could see a couple of marks where I accidentally dug my fingernails into him.  He hadn't even made a noise when I did it.  I kissed his cheek and his shoulder and wanted nothing more in the world than to be able to feel every inch of him.  He pulled me even tighter against his body and buried his face in the curve of my neck.  His breath against me sent shivers down my spine, and I loved the sensation.  He kissed my neck, and then as I carefully began to draw away from him, he started to sink his teeth into my skin.
    I grimaced in pain as I could feel him break the skin.  "Keenan, please..." I whimpered.  "Please... don't do this."  I knew he could hear me, but he didn't acknowledge that I had said anything.  I tried to push him away from me, but he just pulled me in closer.  I wanted to kiss him again - wanted to make him love me and forget that side of himself.
    I could feel my knees start to give way underneath me and my head was swimming.  I could feel a small drop of blood quickly slip down my neck to be absorbed by my shirt collar.  He lapped at the red stream that remained behind it.  I could feel his teeth scraping against what parts of my skin were still intact.
    I fell to the ground, but the instant before my head hit the cement, he caught me.  He laid me gently on my back and held a hand to my bleeding neck.  He pressed down on it for what could have been seconds or hours until the blood stopped coming.  I may not even have been conscious the whole time.
    He lowered himself in what almost looked like a push-up position, but he lied down next to me on his stomach.  He tenderly kissed me again and I tried to make the sweet taste of him last as long as possible.  I knew I was tasting my own blood on his lips, and yet I still didn't ever want him to leave me.  He did pull away, though, and he sat back on his knees.  He just looked down at me for a moment.  "I'm sorry," he whispered.  He carefully put a finger on my forehead and moved my hair out of my eyes.
    He stood up, still looking down at me.  I remained on the ground, still too weak to stand.  He finally turned away from me.  I watched him bend down to pick up his shirt, but he didn't put it on.  He looked back at me once before he walked away into darkness and the unknown.  He had never taken enough of my blood to kill me... just enough so that I would know never to trust him again.  And yet, even as I was lying on that floor so close to death, I knew that the next time I saw him, I would succumb to the same thing again.