The sound of impatient mumbling and shuffling from the crowd is muffled by the curtain that's draped over the—frankly cramped—cage that I'm locked up inside. I can tell that the show's just about ready to resume; loud footsteps on the wooden stage echo throughout the studio as the crew rushes around to finish up before the break ends. Through the gaps in the curtain, I can vaguely see what looks like a small stage, along with a booth and a podium for the host, too. "Alright, you're good to go," a voice then declares from back behind the sound booth as the crew exits the set. "I'll count you in on one, two..."
"Welcome back to the show, everyone!" a man with a booming, charismatic voice announces to the crowd, eliciting a wave of applause to erupt across the studio. "I'm sure you can tell that our contestants are ready to go, but we're going to need one more member of the audience before we can start!" After a short pause, he continues, "Come on down, Mihaela, you're our next contestant on the Price is Bite!"
I can hear a woman shouting in excitement as she rushes down the aisle to take her spot behind the booth. "Thank you so much! I'm really excited to be here!" she says with an energetic laugh. Her accent is quite thick, and I can't quite place it; it sounds undeniably Eastern European, though.
"Well then, Mihaela, you're a nurse from Bucharest, is that correct?" the host asks her. "I assume that means you have quite a lot of experience with blood and bodily fluids, yes?"
Mihaela laughs again. "Yes, sir! I've been working as a nurse for almost ten years now. I know all there is to know about blood—the smell, the feel, and especially the taste!"
The crowd laughs along with her as the host continues, "Well, I'm sure you know how this game works, correct?" he asks once more. "If you can guess how much blood this poor volunteer has running through his veins, you get to take him home with you!"
With that, the curtain is ripped from my cage, and I can finally get a good look out into the studio. The lights are dimmed down-low, but even through the darkness, I can see the faces of the crowd and contestants. My heart skips a beat when I catch sight of the woman standing behind the booth; she's pale—almost unnaturally so—and dressed in a deep, black gown. In fact, everyone in the audience looks like a corpse as well. It's like a sea of funeral attendees are watching from the stands.
The host steps out from his podium, and moves to stand in front of the cage where I'm being kept like a prize pig at a fair. "The prize that our contestants will be playing for tonight is a twenty-four year old college student that's majoring in biochemistry. As you can see, he's a healthy young man—not too tall, not too short—but most importantly, he's got plenty of O-Negative blood in his body. He isn't known to donate regularly—if at all—which means that he should have plenty of the stuff to spare." Looking back towards the contestants, the host continues, "Now, the question is: How much, exactly?"
I try and rattle the bars open, but it's useless, the metal only digs into my arms and legs as I thrash around like a fish out of water. The cloth binding that's wrapped around my mouth is so tight that I can barely breathe—I can't even scream for help. It's not like anyone would help me, if I could, though.
"Well, well, it looks like he's eager to play!" the host laughs as he turns his attention to Mihaela. "Lets start off with our new contestant, here. How much blood do you think this young man has in him?"
Mihaela looks down at me like I'm nothing more than a blood bag hanging from a hook, her nostrils flaring as she takes a whiff of the air. "Well, you said that he's a college student—that means he must be pretty active. I'll say eleven pints." Sharp, almost bat-like fangs protrude from her lips, and her lipstick seems to be running slightly as she salivates. With a twirl of her long, black hair, she turns back to the host and finishes her thought, "Eleven, final answer."
"Very good!" the host exclaims as he turns to the rest of the members that are standing behind the booth like vultures, waiting for their turn at the feast. "Alright, who's next?"
One after another, the rest of the contestants make their guesses—some as low as six pints, some as high as fifteen; I don't think I have that much blood in me, honestly.
As they finish, the host turns to Mihaela again. "You're absolutely right. Our volunteer has just a smidge over eleven pints of blood in his body! Congratulations, Mihaela from Bucharest, you've made it to the next round of the Price is Bite!"
They keep calling me a volunteer—I never signed up for this! I can't even remember how I ended up in this damned place; I don't remember anything, actually—everything's a blur. All I can recall is waking up in this studio, locked up like I'm nothing more than livestock.
Mihaela steps up onto the stage and walks over to the host; her black heels click and clack on the hardwood floor as she stands next to him. "Thank you so much!" she exclaims into the microphone he's carrying. "I'm so excited to be here, tonight!"
With his arm draped around her shoulder, the host then turns to the audience. "Alright folks, I think it's time for a word from our sponsors, we'll be right back after these messages."
He gestures to the crew to carry me off back stage; as I'm hauled away, the curtain is thrown back over the cage, and I'm cut off from the rest of the world once again.
After a couple minutes of total silence, the sound of high-heels on concrete echoes throughout the back stage hallway as someone makes their way towards me. "Let's see what I've won, tonight," a voice says; it's Mihaela, the lady from the show. As the curtain is removed once again, I can see her pale face; I don't know what she's planning on doing back here, but she looks awfully excited to finally see her prize up close. Reaching in through the bars, she grabs my hand and pulls me towards her. "What a lovely shade of pink! You humans do have such nice skin."
I'm being pressed against the bars of the cage, and the gag in my mouth stops me from screaming out. All I can do is stare into her eyes—her dark, soulless eyes—as she runs her finger along the vein on my arm. "Oh my, look at that! You're so full of blood, too! It's practically overflowing!" she laughs a deep, hearty laugh, and I can see her fangs poking out from behind her lips. "Well, the show doesn't resume for a few more minutes, and I am terribly thirsty..."