She sobbed again - at the thought of having to drink blood and what else did vampires do? Sleep in fucking coffins? Minerva took her father's handkerchief and crumpled it in her hand. She just wanted to go to sleep and pretend it never happened. This isn't happening to her.
"Daddy, I don't want to drink that stuff - it's gross," Minerva said, shaking her head. "It's fucking pig's blood! Is this what I am now?! A fucking bloodsucker!" she cried, looking at her father with pleading, bloodshot eyes.
Then her father was wiping her face with the handkerchief like she was an invalid child, and Minerva let him - her chin trembling and her nose running freely. He held the handkerchief to her nose, and dutifully she blew.
"I just wanted to forget about the full moon and Atlas and not worry about how he was doing and...it was stupid and reckless. I got drunk and then went home with some stranger. Fucking stupid," Minerva spat out. "Such an idiot."
She stared down at the blanket covering the lower half of her. Minerva was in a hospital gown, and her arms were bare. She could see the veins in her arms. Gods, she didn't remember ever being able to see those before.
"Mum's going to be so upset," Minerva said in a whisper. "You have to tell her, okay? I don't think I can." She swallowed, and she felt light headed. "I don't want you to watch me...drink that stuff."