Smallville Thirst Novels & Stories

PAST. SETH POV. I woke up in agony and I knew I was different. I also felt thirsty, very thirsty. My throat was parched as the desert sand and It felt as if I was going to die if I didn't get a drink soon. I was also sure it was not for water.

So, he had shot the ball at me on purpose, I swallowed dry spit as I nodded before going back to where I was sitting and didn't dare try to sleep again "Water" he ordered and I hurriedly took a bottle of water to him and watched as he gulped down the water, I wished the water was passing through my throat right now, my throat felt patched and dried, I am so thirsty that I am beginning to feel that there's no more spit in my mouth, "C...c...can I have a little please, I am so thirsty" I begged, hoping for a bit of mercy from him,

I hate myself and I hate my existence. Looking up, my eyes landed on the glass cup of milk on the table. Since my throat is sore and burning. I'm thirsty and craving for water. I reached for it and grabbed the glass cup of milk. I gulped down the whole content of the milk. I let out a sigh of relief as I gulped it all. It tastes good and perfect, and I love it. I let out a sigh from my lips. I shook my head with a sigh.

“It is blood. And it is the only thing that will quench the thirst that consumes you. Drink, girl, or you will die.” His words were flat, unyielding. No compassion, just brutal fact. My gaze darted between the flask of dark liquid and Lysander’s unreadable face. Die. The word echoed in my mind. Die here, after everything? After surviving Kieran’s rage and Rhys’s betrayal? After running from everything I knew? The thirst was a living thing inside me now, a monster gnawing at my insides. It pulsed, a rhythmic agony. My head throbbed. Every instinct screamed no, but my body was screaming survive.

Diane clung to my robe, stumbling occasionally but refusing to make a sound. After a few minutes, she tugged at my sleeve weakly. “Mom, my throat is burning,” she whispered, her voice tiny and cracked. My heart twisted painfully. The shock collar—the electric pulses dried the throat and drained the body. Of course, she would be thirsty. Severe electrical exposure always dehydrated its victims. Darlington knew that. That was why he fed her water in tiny measured doses, like she was a pet. I crouched down. “Oh baby, I know. The shocks make you thirsty. Just hold on a little longer.”

she said. Another slammed the tap off. “My mom is going to come get me,” she said, close to tears. “I’m not staying here if I can’t even drink water.” My throat tightened. It suddenly felt much drier than it had when I woke up. I swallowed, but it did nothing. “The fourth day,” the wraiths whispered. “The day of thirst.” We made our way down to the ground floor and into the yard. The air outside was thicker, the smell not as concentrated as inside, but still there. Students moved around more slowly than usual, eyes shadowed, skin sallow from lack of sleep and pain.

"I don’t get fevers. I’m just thirsty." He held a warm cup of honey water to my lips, and I downed it in one go. After finishing the first cup, I licked my dry lips, still unsatisfied. "I want more." Without a word, Miles poured me another glass. After three full cups, the thirst finally eased. My head felt a little clearer too—clear enough to realize he was staring at me with a half-smile, half-frown. There was a flicker in his eyes—a mix of amusement and a quiet, simmering frustration I couldn’t quite read.

My throat felt dry, and after everything Sebastian had just revealed, I needed something to ground me. I opened the fridge, grabbed a chilled bottle of water, and unscrewed the cap, taking a long sip. The cold liquid felt like a balm against the chaos swirling in my mind. I turned to Sebastian, holding the bottle up. “You thirsty?” He nodded, leaning against the counter. “Yeah, I could use some.”

He felt steady now, not all over the place like before. “Wine? Really?” he asked, his voice full of dry humor. “Why not?” I said quietly, pouring a good amount into the metal cup I had. The smell was strong as I swirled the drink slowly. “If we can’t celebrate winning, we can at least drink to staying alive.” “To staying alive,” Thorin replied, his voice lighter now, almost playful. I raised the cup, even though my arm ached from the stitches. “Cheers to still breathing,” I said, my voice carrying a hint of sarcasm.

"You must be thirsty." "I'd rather die of thirst than take anything from you," she hisses, but I can see the lie in her eyes. She needs water. The silver is not causing injuries on her, but it is smoking - it is hurting her, causing her body to dehydrate without physical effect. She is desperate for water, no matter who brings it.