Miss Hell’s laughter bounced off the walls of the alleyway. The two sims they had corned were cowering in fear, their backs against the wall.
“If we were to let one of you go, which one would it be?” Miss Hell asked, her voice gravelly and enticing. “Which of you should make the sacrifice to help us poor, starving, creatures?
It was a lie. They weren’t even a little hungry. Together, they had already drank six sims in the dark corners of the Narwhal Arms. Miss Hell drew them in because she loved to dance and Vlad simply stood in a corner. Watching. Waiting.
He felt nearly high on the plasma. Each sim they drained had adrenaline flooding through their systems. It was nectar. It was divine. And Vlad felt nothing. He felt heaps of nothing. So much nothing that he was panting, his hands clenching and unclenching as they approached their latest prey.
The feeling of regret prickled along the back of his neck, a warning of what was to come. But Vlad would not let this conquer him. He could think his way out of this! What they were doing was natural! It was their right!
The sim on the left began to cry softly.
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing, he thought to himself over and over again. Miss Hell briefly took on bat form and flew between the two terrified mortals, landing behind the one who was now crying in great, heaving sobs.
“So you don’t want it to be you? You’d rather it was your friend?” she grabbed his head, angling it towards Vlad. “Do you see this Vladislaus? Smell it? Delicious, isn’t it?”
He thought about the muscles in his eye then, marshalling them into compliance so they didn’t twitch. Once, during the war for Forgotten Hollow, he was forced to regrow an eyeball after one particularly vicious vampire tore it from his head.
It seemed a pleasant memory now, comforting in its simplicity. Back then he had clear and discrete tasks before him: Conquer. Regrow an eyeball. Fight. Feed. Conquer.
Who was that vampire?
He didn’t even recognize him anymore.
He locked eyes with the sim in front of him, reaching into their mind with a wave of his hands. This wasn’t an attack, it was a mercy. He watched rational thought abandon them, their eyes staring blankly forward.
He rebelled against his conscience. It was a mercy. Left to her own devices, Miss Hell would torture them for hours before draining them completely.
He clamped down on the sim’s neck and drank. And as he did, he tried repeating his new mantra to himself. Nothing, Nothing, Nothing, Nothing.
And he did feel nothing. The whole run home with Miss Hell as she gleefully congratulated herself for getting him out of his funk? Nothing.
Sweeping into his house and shutting the door behind him? Nothing.
Leaning over the toilet and voiding his insides?
Definitely had to download some poses to make this chapter work. Thanks to all of the talented creators!
MLSC CH11 OFFICE by Princess Paranoia
Sitting & Talking Pose Collection by Ratboysims
Random Vampire Pose by Rosewho-sims
Vampires Suck by mememuru