Five days later.
Derek was rushing through the kitchen, setting the breakfast mesa when slow footsteps were heard on the stairs. Derek raced to the stairs and tried to help Damon keep his balance. Damon tried to push him away, but was too weak.
“I made breakfast” Derek said.
“Gee, thanks” Damon mumbled sarcastic. He shuffled to the kusina and fell down on a chair. He looked down at the mesa and picked up the blood bag. “This is breakfast?” he asked Derek.
“You have to drink it, Damon” Derek insisted. “It’s been five days. You will die if you don’t”
Damon shrugged. “Then...
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