He climbed on to her back and took a firm hold.
She hardly knew when he began sucking the life blood from her as he was adept in this symbiotic relationship and could make his small incision as precisely as a skilled surgeon. She would find him now and then, and in her searching, run her tongue over the smooth contours of his body, and she liked that better than she hated the wound.
When her mother called she would ask about her parasite and the girl would always say that he was doing "his thing" and her mother would be happy and respond that she should feel lucky she had someone to share her life with.
Once, he ventured into the open and imbeded himself in the smooth contour of her lower right cheek. She spied him as she walked by a mirror, and bending closer with her breath against her own image, she peered intently with a strange excitement, and realized he looked like a beauty mark and added some mystery to her otherwise plain face. But remembering suddenly why she hadn't chanced her image in awhile, she saw her white-washed palor was now an ashen gray and that sick feeling hit her hosting heart like a stone. She hurriedly pinched her cheek and then twisted the skin between her fingers until she saw the red stain rush to the rescue.
And for now, she knew, she was everything to him.