Blood TieS

As she lay on the uncomfortable hospital sheets, an IV attached to her left arm and her breathing shallow, Arienne wondered how she had gotten so ill so fast. It had seemed like she was fine one month, and then the next, her blood pressure began to lower to a dangerous amount.

The doctors had tested and tested, and yet, they could not find a cause for her sudden loss of appetite, low blood pressure, dizziness, and insatiable thirst. The bills had begun to rack up as she was cared for, and she knew internally that she was going to die, and very soon at that.

Arienne was normally a very petite girl, but over the past few months since her mystery diagnosis, she had become downright skeletal in the way that she looked. Her cheeks had sunken inwards, her ribs had become visible, and her arms were weak, and thin.

She drew in a labored breath as her sister and her sister’s boyfriend, Pierre, entered the room with masks on their faces so as not to catch whatever illness had befallen the poor girl. Arienne turned her head towards her twin, Fleur, and held out one of her hands for the blonde to take.

They were identical when Arienne was healthy, both of them having platinum blonde hair and blue eyes, a small beauty mark by the corner of their mouths – though on opposite sides, and slim waists.

They looked similar enough that if one wore the other’s clothes, people wouldn’t be able to tell which twin it was that they were speaking to. Fleur took her sister’s hand as tears welled up in the young woman’s blue eyes, Arienne giving her a soft, albeit sad smile. Both of them knew that she didn’t have long left in this world.

It seemed as though the Villeneuve twins were meant to suffer, as they had grown up in foster care together after a robbery gone wrong had killed their parents. And now, one half of the small family that was left was dying from an illness that no medicine could cure.

“Fleur, I don’t have much time,” Arienne managed to speak after a few moments, sitting up and listening to the bones in her body creak. “I’ll miss you.”

Pierre, a young man with brunette hair and brown eyes, squeezed Fleur’s shoulders gently as she sobbed quietly, nodding her head and speaking through her mask.

“I know. I’ll miss you too, Ari. I love you so much.”

“Don’t be too sad, okay?” She asked quietly, breathing in another labored breath. “And … I’ll tell mom and dad hello for you.”

“Oh, Arienne …!”

Fleur could not handle the weight of being the last of the family to survive, it seemed. She turned her head away from her twin and buried it into Pierre’s chest, as he squeezed her gently and shed a few tears of his own.

“Maybe there’s still hope,” he said, gently as ever. “Maybe she’ll recover from this.”

“I doubt it,” the twins said in unison, as Arienne laid back onto the stiff pillows beneath her.

“At this point, I just want to not be so miserable anymore.”

“I hate seeing you in pain, Arienne,” Fleur said.

“I –” Suddenly, the blonde went stiff. Her eyes fluttered shut, and her breathing began to slow.

“Arienne?!”

“Arienne!!”

“Help, anyone!”

But it was too late for anyone to help. By the time that the doctors rushed in with the nurses in tow, her heart had slowed to a stop. After a few moments of attempted resuscitation, Arienne Villeneuve was pronounced dead. Fleur fell into the arms of her boyfriend and wept bitterly, her heart breaking in two for the pain that her sister had suffered.

As she mourned, the nurses and doctors did so with her. It was always tragic to lose one so young, and especially when she had been so healthy just months prior. Fleur had to be escorted from the room by Pierre, and the rest of the week became a blur of funeral arrangements.

Arienne was buried in the town cemetery just a few days after her death. The coroner had not been able to embalm her body due to the risk of contagion, and so the funeral service that was held was a closed casket.

The twins had a multitude of friends, so there were plenty of flowers atop the grave that Arienne’s body was lowered into, right beside their parents – Colette and Alois Villeneuve.

Fleur was numb by now, having grieved so quickly that nothing else could possibly shake her. As her casket was covered with dirt, she simply knelt in front of the grave. She was a broken woman, and it took Pierre quite literally lifting her from her spot as the rain began to roll in over the sleepy little cemetery.

None would expect what came next, as the day went by, and night fell over the city that Fleur called home.

***

Arienne awoke with a gasp inside of her coffin, her eyes fluttering open. Where they had before been an azure blue they were now crimson as blood, and her body had repaired itself to its prior healthy state.

But she was HUNGRY.

It was with panic that she began to realize her predicament – buried 8 feet underground inside of a wooden box. Strangely enough, she found herself not needing to breathe, which was great for her incoming panic attack.

“What – where – what happened to me?” She asked the silent coffin, finding no answer. As her stomach protested its emptiness, she knew only one thing: She had to get out of here.

Her nails had become claws, which were essential for slashing her way through the fabric of the coffin she was inside. She met the wood and the dirt with inhuman vigor, making quick work of the soil with nothing but her hands.

The thunder overhead crackled with electricity as she emerged out of the hole that she had made, mud and dirt sticking to her face and hair and the dress she had been buried in.

Her ears were ringing, and her eyes gleamed in the darkness as she stood on her wobbling feet. She had to find something to eat.

No … someONE.

She shambled forward, much like a fawn who had just been born and found herself at the gate to the cemetery. It was locked, of course. Rain streaked down her face as she wondered what to do next, laying a hand on the padlocked chain that held the gate down.

And as if by instinct, she ripped it away like it was made of tissue paper. She barely thought about that, however, as she made her way into the town.

As she stumbled through the streets with her heart in her throat, she found a young man, unconscious and passed out from a night of partying at the local bar. Her irises narrowed into slits, and she knelt by him and brushed his hair from his neck.

He was a blond man and he smelled heavily of booze and cigarettes. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, however.

Her instincts kicked in once more, and she knelt down next to him and pressed her mouth to his neck, her canines extending as she sank teeth into flesh and began to drink.

The ringing in her ears subsided the more and more that she drank of his blood, and her heart calmed itself when she found nourishment for her never-ending hunger. She only pulled away when he made a groan of discomfort, finally feeling like herself again.

But what was happening to her? With her mouth now bloodied and her dress further ruined, she stumbled back and looked around the alleyway.

The bar was nearby and much to her horror and fright, there was a worker standing at the garbage can and staring with wide eyes as she tried to explain herself. But her words died in her throat, and she was unable to do much but sputter out a few noises around the fangs that were now in her mouth.

They ran back inside, ditching the garbage by the can and Arienne took that as a signal to leave. She fled the alleyway, fast enough that one of the heels on her shoes broke. But that didn’t matter to her very much – She had to go somewhere.

Anywhere.

The only place that she could think of going, however, was home. Still in a daze, she wandered through the town in the shadows of the buildings until she came across the apartment building that had housed herself and Fleur when she was still … alive.

It was on the southern side of the city, but thankfully her legs no longer wobbled when she walked. It wasn’t that far to go from here, so she set out through the rain, wondering what she had become.

By the time that she came up to the entrance, she once more just ripped the door off its hinges and walked on through. There were no night guards, merely a locked fence between herself and the warmth of the indoors.

Trudging up the stairs after unlocking the door with the spare key, she stood in the middle of the apartment complex and dripped water onto the carpet. It felt surreal to be back here, and thankfully, her twin and Pierre were nowhere to be seen.

The first thing she did was grab a towel, and dried herself off. The next was a change of clothes – she had to borrow Fleur’s, but that was alright since they were the same size anyways.

Slipping into a discarded hoodie, a shirt, and some sweatpants, she felt much better and not as cold. She was still cold, but it would do for now. Just as she was grabbing some of the things that she left behind, Arienne froze in fear as she heard the door lock start to turn in place.

She could hear Pierre and Fleur talking, and she looked around the room wildly for any sort of hiding place. Thunder exploded overhead as she found herself a deer in the headlights, knocking the power out of the apartment complex.

Fleur and Pierre entered the apartment, and Pierre quickly put his arm in front of Fleur to stop her.

“Hold on – someone is –”

“What? Did someone break in?”

Fleur’s statement died halfway out of her mouth and she stared in shock, mouth agape, at the silhouette of her twin. Arienne’s eyes caught the light from the storm, illuminating her in a brief flash from the electricity in the air.

There was no mistaking her. Arienne Villeneuvue had come back from the dead.

“H … How?” Fleur asked, weakly, as she stepped forward. Pierre grabbed her hand, stopping her from approaching out of caution and worry.

“Fleur,” Arienne began quietly, unsure of what to say to pacify the look on her sister’s face. “I … I don’t know what happened to me.”

“I buried you,” Fleur’s face twisted. “I buried you! Next to mama and papa!”

“I know –”

“So how are you here! WHY are you here?!”

“Let me explain!”

“No. No! You’re not real! You can’t be! You’re not real, you’re not real!”

Fleur clutched her head and fell to her knees, repeating the same phrase over and over again. Pierre took hold of her, shooting a glare at Arienne.

“Whatever or whoever you are, you need to leave. Now.”

Arienne didn’t know what to do, so she stumbled backwards a little and grasped the door handle tightly, whitening her knuckles.

Fleur sobbed into her hands as her twin ran out the door and into the cold, dark night, thunder exploding overhead and illuminating her retreating silhouette.