You’d been with Simon for a while. Ever since he plucked you off the streets and dragged you off to his middle of nowhere cabin, your like had been essentially relegated to that of his food source. A glorified blood bag.

It wasn’t all bad, you suppose- he did feed you (although the food was nothing to write home about. All perfectly balanced meals seemingly put together by a nutritionist- along with water, iron tablets, Gatorade, and other electrolyte/sports drinks being constantly forced down your throat to help you make back the blood he took.) and the room was… fine, even though the basement got really cold at night and the heat from the fire never got down here… but the bed was comfy, and Ghost bought more blankets for you to bundle up with on the coldest nights- not to mention the space heater (although, you weren’t allowed to have it on without supervision. He doesn’t quite trust you not to try and burn the place down)

But, you’ve been here a while- you’ve settled into a routine… things could be worse.

That’s why when you hear the key turning the lock of the basement door, you sit up, knowing what’s coming even before Ghost descends the stairs and tucks the key away, looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“I need to feed.” He says bluntly, expecting you to know the process by now.