Some Assembly Required

                                    

                                          
	 	
                          
As Vaska once again regained her senses she felt an overwhelming urge to cry out in strange desperation. A savage thirst gripped her tightly, threatening to consume her very being. A new voice within her head cried out for blood, that oh so sweet, coppery tang, deliciously heavy and eternally alluring. It was almost as if she could smell it, thoughts of its very essence causing her to accidentally salivate upon the bed sheets.
                          
	Opening her eyes, Vaska realized that it was not her mind playing tricks upon her, but there really was fresh blood nearby. Her left hand shot out to grasp the cup that sat on the nightstand at the same time she raised herself to a sitting position on the bed. Her hands shook as she held it, and just as she was about to bring the mouthwatering ichor to her lips, a wave of revulsion passed through her, and in a fit of rage Vaska hurled the cup away from her.
                          
	It hit the wall with a thud, the ensuing scarlet splatter marring the calming beige tones and highlights of the room. The carpet within reach of the sticky substance quickly became dominated by the lifeblood, taunting Vaska's eyes as it soaked up the liquid without hesitation. It would surely become one nasty stain to remove.
                          
	Disgusted with herself for craving that which she would not allow herself to have, Vaska pulled her knees tight to her chest, heavy breathing turning into choked sobs. Tears flowed freely as she gazed upon the crimson running down the wall and permeating the floor. She did not know how long or even when she had started, but her pitiful cries were suddenly cut off as the door to the bedchamber opened slightly.
                          
The person sticking their head into the room turned out to be none other than Raven herself, the vampire taking it upon herself to check up on their miserable guest. A quick glance was enough to take in the scene before her and then Raven was gliding over to the bed where Vaska sat trembling.
                          
Boosting herself up onto the left side, for the bed was quite high off the ground, Raven wasted no time wrapping her arms around the younger woman, pulling Vaska into her chest and humming softly to calm the woman.
                          
	Raven remembered all too well being completely devastated and utterly ashamed when she'd gone through her own transformation. She'd been in a motorcycle accident with her late, and not so humble, boyfriend, nearly thirty years ago. The rain had finished only hours before they'd left a campus party, and the roads were still slick with wetness.
                          
	The car that t-boned them was driven by a young kid who, contrary to what you might think, hadn't had a little too much to drink, nor was he showing off for his friends or a girlfriend. He'd barely gotten his license and it had all just been one sorry thing after the next.
                          
	As luck would have it, the hospital was understaffed, dealing with other serious injury patients as well. Raven couldn't help but lose precious time lying on a gurney in one of the many hallways that smelled strongly of antiseptic.
                          
	Her world had come crashing down around her when she was told by the doctors that she was paralyzed from the neck down. She would never regain the use of her body nor her limbs at all during her lifetime. It was at this point that Raven's boyfriend, Finn, decided to walk out, mouthing something along the lines of not having signed up for this, and there's no way I'm gonna be stuck looking after an invalid.
                          
	Tears stung in Raven's eyes as she recalled those memories, as the anguish she'd felt seeing him walk away reached out again to encompass her heart. He never even looked back. Raven broke that night, and the life that was once sweet and delightful to her taste buds became sharp and bitter, and she longed only for an escape.
                          
	Months later, Raven was going to therapy sessions in order to try and deal with the way her life had changed, but all she could feel was frustration and anger at the unfairness of it all. She felt robbed, not being able to live her life to its fullest. Her fingers ached to build whatever her brain conjured up from the depths of her highly potent imagination. Sadly, no matter how much she endeavored, not even a single twitch, voluntary or otherwise was she able to procur from either her hands nor her feet.