He offered me a glass of red wine that smelled of stale berries. I turned my head to refuse his offer but he grabbed my chin in a steel grip to keep me still. My eyes welled with tears as he pried my mouth open and poured the wine down my throat. It was thick as syrup and tasted like metal. Something was off. I panicked and began coughing up the substance. He laughed then smiled darkly, as he swiped the juice from my chin and sucked it off his fingers.
“Something wrong?” He asked.
“Is that….blood?” I asked, feeling my stomach roll.
“Of course, dear. What else would it be?”