Locked Away - Shane Barrett

It’s better this way.
In here, he can’t hurt anyone.
Shane curls up on the narrow cot as another wave of pain surges through him. He’s been through withdrawals a dozen times. He’s been through them in cells. Actually, most of the time that’s where he’s been for them, or an infirmary if they got bad enough someone figured he needed to be watched. He’s used to that. 
But this is something else entirely. 
His body feels like it’s tearing itself apart from the inside out.
His teeth feel like they’re slowly being pulled out of his jaw.
His stomach feels like it’s somehow chewing on itself.
And worst of all, every part of him is screaming for blood.
Twice a day, a packet of the fake stuff is shoved through the slot in his door. But it’s not what he wants. He can hear the heartbeats of the humans passing it through. No one gets their hand or arm close enough to that slot to even risk a bite but he can smell the blood, warm and rich and alive.
He doesn’t know why they’re even bothering with this. He’s a vampire, an out of control one who hurt a lot of people. He’s not too familiar with the politics surrounding creatures like him, they’ve only just started to become more than urban legend and tabloid headlines, but he’s pretty sure vampires who attack people get staked in the heart.
Sure, there are plenty of people who think that’s barbaric, but that’s rarely changed policies overnight. As far as he can tell, he should be dead again, for real this time, right now.
He’s not sure what it means that he’s not.
Whatever it is, it can’t mean anything good for him.
He’d rather they just stake him and get it over with. 
He’s pretty sure it’s true vampires are immortal. It was bad enough the last two times he was in prison, even if it was a few months or a couple years. He can’t even begin to imagine what it would be like to be in there for…well, forever. 
If they don’t stake him, that’s probably all he has to look forward to.
There’s no way they should let him go. He’s a monster, just like the vampire who made him. He’s too dangerous to ever trust. 
He shudders as another wave of pain and hunger washes through him. 
Why they won’t just put him out of his misery doesn’t even make sense. They should want him gone. Everyone else always has. Those guys in the holding cell did. Someone ought to just finish the job. 
However long this lasts isn’t up to him.
The only thing he can still control is what he tells them.
And if that means the difference between a stake in the heart and decades in a cell, then he can do that. And if it means the difference between them keeping him locked up and putting him back out on the street…then there’s no question what the right thing is.
Maybe, with his silence, he’s letting one monster go.
But he’s stopping one so much worse from ever having a chance to hurt anyone.
Besides, it’s not like anyone would believe him.
He learned the hard way that his word is no good.
And that was before he was a junkie and a thief and an accused murderer and a vampire. 
Someone pounds on the door. “Blood draw. Give me your hands.”
The larger slot in the door slides open, and Shay struggles up from his cot then turns his back to the door to let the medic take his hand and draw off a sample. He’s used to this. Usually, it’s so someone can put cuffs on him, but he’s not going anywhere right now. 
“Looks cleaner,” someone says from outside. “Probably another day and he’ll be ready for transport and his trial.”
The slot in the door clangs shut, and Shay stumbles back to his cot, curling in on himself and looking at his hand. The tiny pinprick mark on his finger, the slowly bluing nails, the scars and calluses that are going to be part of his body until a stake ends his unnatural second life. 
The marks on the inside of his arms that brand him an addict.
He was always going to become some horrible, greedy creature driven by its appetite.
He hadn’t been able to control himself then, and he certainly can’t control himself now.
Whoever stakes him is going to be doing the world a favor.