Consciousness returned with a violent jolt. My lungs felt flattened, like all the oxygen in the room had suddenly vanished.
The metallic smell—like rusted iron—still clung to the back of my nose. Left over from a nightmare? I wanted to believe that. But when I forced my eyes open, it was still there. Thick. Real.
My head pounded. The bedroom ceiling, usually comforting, now felt like it was pressing down on me, like prison walls slowly closing in.
And then that face was there.
Alan.
My heart missed a beat, then slammed wildly against my ribs. Instinctively, I dragged myself backward until my back hit the edge of the couch. Every nerve in my body screamed one word: run.
Memory crashed into me all at once. The red liquid in the can. The sickening smell of blood. The refrigerator full of... death.
"Move," I whispered hoarsely. Tears were already blurring my vision. "Let me go."
Alan shook his head slowly. His eyes held something I couldn't understand—a strange mix of desperation and resignation. "If you leave right now, you're going to regret it, Alina."
"Regret it?" I laughed, hollow and broken. "I regret ever knowing you."
He took one step forward. I recoiled so hard I almost fell off the couch.
"No. I can't let you leave while you're this afraid."
"Alan, please..." My voice dropped into something thin and small. "I won't tell anyone. Let's just pretend we never met, okay?"
"No. I don't want you to go."
"Alan, I don't want to die."
"I'm not going to hurt you, Alina."
"I don't need any explanation!"
"Alina, this isn't what you think."
"Shut up! I don't want to hear anything."
"Okay. I won't talk." His voice turned heavy, his eyes fixed on mine. "I just want to show you one thing. Just one. After that, if you want to run, scream, or wish I were dead... I won't stop you."
I froze. "Show me... what?"
Alan drew in a long breath, then extended his pale arm. "Your left hand, Alina. Give it to me."
I moved back again. My hands searched blindly behind me for something to hold on to—anything. Ridiculous, but my whole brain only had one command: keep your distance.
"Don't touch me," I said, my voice breaking.
Alan stopped. His chest rose and fell slowly, like he was holding something much bigger than words inside himself.
"I just need you to see this. One time. After that... it's up to you."
Every instinct in me was screaming to jump through a window.
But my body had gone rigid.
Fear had frozen into something solid.
Or maybe some stupid little part of my mind was still hoping this was all some grotesque prank.
Slowly, with a hand that wouldn't stop shaking, I reached my arm out.
Alan took my fingers. He lowered his head.
Before I could even breathe in, his lips were against the skin of my wrist.
Cold.
Then the pain came.
Sharp. Hot. Piercing.
I swallowed the scream clawing up my dry throat. My eyes flew wide open. I could feel my pulse pounding directly under his teeth.
And that sound... the sound of swallowing. Steady. Calm. Almost content in the silence of the room.
My world spun.
There was no air left.
In that instant, the last of my denial shattered.
Alan was not human.
And I had just let a monster taste my life.
I sat frozen on the couch with my knees pulled tightly to my chest. A thin blanket wrapped around my shaking body, even though the air conditioner wasn't turned that low.
My left wrist throbbed faintly. The red mark there was already starting to fade, but the memory of it still burned.
My thoughts drifted backward. To mornings when I'd woken up feeling strangely weak. To the red marks I'd found on my neck, on my hip—the ones I'd written off as exhaustion or random irritation.
"Tell me the truth," I said hoarsely, staring blankly at the marble floor. "Back when I got sick. Back when I kept feeling weak for no reason. Was that you?"
Silence for a moment.
"Yes," he answered softly. He was standing near the window with his back to me.
"You bit me... where? Do you even remember?" I turned to look at him. Disgust was creeping up now, slowly replacing the fear.
Alan turned around. His face looked worn. "Your neck. Your hip. Your wrist. Inside—"
"Inside?" I let out a harsh, brittle laugh. "What does that even mean? While I was unconscious? While I couldn't do anything, you used me like a... container? Like one of those Gora cans in your fridge?"
"It wasn't like that, Alina. At the time it wasn't really me—it was reflex. Instinct."
"Instinct?" I cut him off sharply.
I stood up. The blanket he had given me slipped straight to the floor. My face felt hot, blazing in contrast to Alan's rigid coldness.
"What kind of love does that? Drains the life out of the person it's supposed to care about? You treated me like livestock, Alan! All those expensive things, the designer bags, the shoes—was that all payment for my blood?"
There was one thing even more horrifying than everything I had already said.
If this was instinct, then it could wake up again anytime.
And there was no off switch.
"God, no!" Alan took a step toward me.
I moved back immediately, breath turning ragged. "Don't. Don't come any closer!"
Alan stopped again. His jaw tightened.
"Everything I gave you was sincere," he said at last, his voice low. "I only wanted you to stay beside me."
"That's bullshit!" I shook my head wildly. Nausea surged through me. "You lied to me. You let me fall in love with a fake world. I kept looking for flaws in you because you seemed too perfect, but it turns out you aren't just damaged—you're a monster!"
Alan said nothing.
He only looked at me with those dimly lit blue eyes. No argument. No defense.
"Why are you just standing there?! Say something! Yell at me! Get angry because I called you a monster!" I shouted right in front of him.
"I can't get angry at you, Alina," he whispered calmly. "Because everything you said... is true."
A wave of heat rushed through my entire body. "You bastard!" My hands flew out, hitting his shoulders, my feet kicking, my fingers pinching his arms with everything I had. Every touch was an explosion of anger I couldn't hold back anymore.
"I'm sorry," he winced, trying to block my attacks.
"I saved you, and this is how you repay me?!"
Alan could only shield himself with both hands. I kept raining harsh words down on him, all the frustration I'd been burying finally spilling out. "Why did you do this? You're sick, Alan!"
"I..." His voice was so quiet I could barely hear it.
"If you were interested in me, you could have approached me a normal way! Not by making me pass out!" My voice broke, tears finally spilling down my cheeks. "I am so disappointed in you."
Those words were the final trigger. My hand immediately snatched the porcelain flower vase off the table. I threw it with all my strength.
He didn't dodge. The vase shattered to pieces as it hit his face. His body stumbled backward, trying to find something to grab onto. The bookshelf behind him collapsed, crashing down on top of him.
My hands flew to my mouth on reflex. A sudden, sharp stab of sadness hit me.
Alan just lay there, eyes closed. The mark from the vase was obvious, slicing from his forehead all the way down to his eyebrow.
"Alan, wake up!" I broke out into sobs.
Blood started seeping from the wound on his forehead. It was a thick, dark red that looked unnatural against his pale skin. My brain immediately split in two.
I hated him. He deserved this after taking my blood and lying to me. But seeing his body pinned under the shelf, watching that thick liquid dripping onto the floor, my panic violently hijacked whatever anger was left. What if the wound was fatal? What if he died because of me—
Monster or not, right now all I saw was the man I was unfortunately still deeply in love with, hurt because I'd let my emotions explode.
My fingers were shaking as I grabbed my phone. "I need to call an ambulance."
Alan quickly caught my hand. "I'm fine, Alina."
"You're bleeding, Alan!" my voice sounded pained. My chest felt tight—not because I was afraid he was a monster, but because I was terrified I had actually hurt him.
Alan's face stayed calm, as if the pain was just a passing breeze. "I know you're angry, and I understand why you did it. I'm sorry I made you feel this way."
I held my breath, my eyes locked on his forehead.
The torn, gaping wound...
Was moving.
Not slowly.
Not naturally.
Instantly.
The blood stopped. The skin sealed. The cut was gone as if it had never existed.
I stumbled back so fast I almost tripped over my own feet. My hand searched behind me blindly until it found the heaviest thing within reach.
The laptop.
I grabbed it with both hands and lifted it over my head.
"Stay back!" My voice shot out at a pitch I didn't know I could produce. "Don't move. Not even an inch!"
Alan, who had just started to straighten up, immediately raised both hands. His eyes widened a little—but not from fear.
He looked like he was trying not to laugh.
"Alina, hey... easy."
"Easy?! Did you see what just happened?!" I jerked my chin toward his forehead, still holding the laptop like a weapon. My mind was sprinting through every impossible explanation it could find. "What are you, exactly? You're drinking blood, healing in seconds—are you in some cult? Some body-modification lunatic? Or..." Horror tightened in my throat. "A human experiment? A humanoid robot?"
Alan went still.
Then the corner of his mouth twitched.
His shoulders shook.
And then he laughed.
"A humanoid robot?" he repeated, clearly delighted. "Alina, if I were a humanoid robot, I would've short-circuited when that vase hit me. Or at least started smoking."
"Don't laugh! I'm serious! I have a weapon!"
"Okay, okay. I surrender." Alan drew in a breath, trying to flatten his face again, though his eyes were still bright with restrained amusement. "Put the laptop down. I've been trying to fix that thing. No need to make it worse."
Then he looked at me again.
The humor faded.
His expression changed—still warm, but now sharp. Serious.
"I'm not a robot. Not a government experiment. Not in a cult."
He let the silence stretch.
"I'm a vampire."
The words came out casually. The same way someone might admit they'd forgotten their keys.
It took my brain a full three seconds to process that sentence.
Vampire.
Vampire.
A mythological blood-drinking creature?
Slowly, the tension in my shoulders loosened a fraction.
Not because I was calm.
But because the situation had become so completely absurd that my panic simply short-circuited.
I lowered the laptop. Set it back on the table.
But I kept my eyes on him.
"Vampire," I repeated flatly.
"Yes. Vampire," Alan confirmed, perfectly at ease.
"This is a crime. I should report you."
"Go ahead," he said lightly. He walked over to the couch across from me and sat down, crossing one leg over the other. "Report what, exactly? 'Hello, officer, my boyfriend is a vampire'? They'll send you straight to a psychiatrist."
I gritted my teeth. "I can say there's a dangerous person here. Or—"
"Or what?" Alan cut in softly.
"Anything. A stalker. A psychopath."
"Is that what I look like to you?"
"I don't care."
"Fine. I've shown you what I am. What happens next is entirely your choice."
I said nothing.
I had nowhere to go with any of this.
"I have never hurt you, Alina. Except for... the demonstration just now."
"The demonstration?! You drank my blood!"
"And you threw a vase at my face. I'd say we're even."
My mouth fell open. "Even?! You healed in five seconds! I'm going to be traumatized for the rest of my life!"
Alan fell quiet. The lightness disappeared from his expression. His face settled into something serious again.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I know how heavy this is. I know you're scared."
"Scared?" I laughed hollowly and slid down until I was sitting on the floor because my legs had genuinely stopped functioning. "I'm not just scared, Alan. I feel stupid. Everything we had—all those moments, all the things that felt good—it all feels fake now. I thought I knew you. And it turns out I've been dating a... predator."
"You're not my prey, Alina."
"Based on what? On what just happened?"
"That was the only way to make you believe me. If I had only told you, you would've thought I'd lost my mind." Alan leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Ask yourself honestly. In all the months we've been together—did I ever once treat you roughly? Did I ever make you feel unsafe?"
I stayed silent.
My memory started rewinding on its own.
Alan waiting for me patiently.
Alan showing up with medicine when I was sick.
Alan making space for me, over and over.
He was right.
Which I hated.
He had been almost a perfect boyfriend.
Except for the vampire part.
"But you lied to me," I said, barely above a whisper. "You hid what you were."
"Because I was afraid," Alan answered honestly. For the first time that night, his voice sounded fragile. "I was afraid that if you knew, you'd leave. That you'd see a monster instead of Alan—the person who loves you."
I looked at him.
He looked tired.
Not physically.
The other kind of tired. The kind that came from carrying something too heavy for too long.
The monster I had been terrified of twenty minutes earlier now looked like a man desperately trying to hold onto the one thing that mattered to him.
"This is insane," I murmured, pressing both palms over my face. "I mean it. This is genuinely insane."
"It is," Alan said. "But it's still real."
A long silence stretched between us. Nothing but the low hum of the AC.
"So what now?" I asked through my hands. "Are you going to erase my memory? Hypnotize me or something?"
"I'm a vampire, Alina. Not a magician."
I peeked through my fingers.
Alan was wearing a thin smile—the exact smile I loved and hated with equal force at that moment.
"The choice is yours," he said. "The door isn't locked. If you want to leave, I won't stop you. But if you want to stay... I'll explain everything."
I lowered my hands.
My eyes moved from the apartment door—closed, reachable—to the man who had completely dismantled my understanding of the world.
My legs were still shaky.
My brain was still running on emergency power.
On one side was the door.
A normal life.
A world that still made sense.
On the other side was Alan.
All his dark, unexplained edges. And the complicated feeling that had tied me to him for months.
I can free. For real?