by C. L. Quinn
Both had tried to reassure her that it was just her imagination and perhaps her fear at being an unwed mother all alone in the world.
“No!” she’d screamed to them. “The father is a monster. He calls himself a vampire. A vampire who drinks blood! I saw him do it! They are fucking real!”
Both treated her like a confused child, or worse, like a woman who’d lost her mind. So she’d known that she was on her own.
What followed were years of relocating whenever she got scared, terrified that someone would find out about her bizarre child with even more bizarre abilities, that the kid might hurt her someday, that the father might find them!
Crossing the street carefully while lighting another cigarette, she went down past the apartments and finally found herself walking along the lake.
Michigan. In winter. What the fuck was she thinking? It had been colder than hell! She glanced up at the watery sun. Spring was coming now, though, so surely it would warm up. Rena tugged on the too loose coat she wore, an ugly plaid number she’d found at the thrift shop after she and the brat arrived here in September. It wasn’t warm enough for this climate, but money barely stretched far enough for anything, let alone fancy coats with matching scarves and hats.
Sometimes, she felt bad when the kid was trying. Most of the time, she really was. Rena could admit to herself that she really was a good girl. She kept the shitholes they lived in pretty clean and she took pretty fucking good care of her mean-ass mother, even though Rena knew that she would hardly get Mother of the Year.
Leaning on the railing, she looked out at the rolling waters of the lake and spoke to the seabirds squawking all along the shoreline.
“It’s just, how do you love something like what she is?”
Rena turned away from the sparkling waters. She didn’t deserve any of this. What had she ever done to deserve this fate? To have her young body violated by a vampire’s spawn? God help her, it took every piece of her to keep that creature well. She knew that the child was half hers, she knew that…it just didn’t matter. And maybe that was her greatest failure of all, that she couldn’t love her daughter just because she was her own blood.
Flicking the cigarette butt into the water, and she knew that was wrong, Rena pushed away from the railing and slowly began to make her way back to the apartment.
Guilt and lost hope traipsed after her, dogging her every step. Nothing about her life was right and she knew that in the end, it would go from bad to worse.
Nothing was out of place. Even though Punk knew that her mother was just as likely to complain about how tidy the apartment was as she would be to bitch if it weren’t, she chose to clean it anyway. Her silly tear tirade was over, and she was angry at herself for giving in and letting herself down. One thing that Punk knew over anything else in her life was that she could count on only one person to take care of her, and that was herself. So, dry-eyed and cheerful again, she made her dismal home as pleasant as she could. Someday, she would have her own home, hers alone, and it would be bright and sunny and she wouldn’t let anything bad enter it ever. She counted the years in her head until she was old enough to go to school. College, if she could find a way to do it. She’d pulled a pamphlet from a rack at the supermarket about college choices. All she had thought of since then was that, of any place on this earth she thought that she belonged, it was a place where she could go and just spend all of her time learning. More than anything, that was where she wanted to be in five years, when she would be old enough to go.
Julia had told her that she couldn’t.
“Your mama never put you in school, Punk. You won’t be able to go to college without a high school diploma.”
What Julia, and Punk’s mother, didn’t know was that she would have one. Mrs. Brooks had been helping her.
“These are the books you need,” Mrs. Brooks had told her, and set her up for a home schooling plan where the kind old woman handled all the details.
Hidden under her secret stack in her bedroom, the precious texts were dog-eared, Punk spent so much time with them. In addition, she’d decided what she wanted to study when she went to college someday. A big biology book that Mrs. Brooks had given her had become her favorite. Genetics fascinated her. How life worked, how it propagated, how it changed, how it could be changed, all excited her.
First, though, she had to make it through the rest of the years until she could enroll in college courses. Punk had decided that when she could, this life with her mother was over. She was tired of giving all that she could, of trying to love her mother, and receiving nothing in return. She was sick of the endless parade of strange men coming through the apartment as her mother serviced their needs. She didn’t know exactly what sex entailed, and she had no desire to ever know.
All she wanted was to live somewhere with sunshine, where she was safe, surrounded by kind people, and in complete control of her own life.
So, today, when Mother returned, Punk would do what she always did, she would quietly welcome her home, fix her a bubble bath that she would make with the Ivory dish soap in the kitchen, and let her mother calm down before the next group of men or women came through the apartment this weekend.
Weekends were the worst. Punk almost never left her bedroom because Mother and Julia had parties that often included ten or more paying “friends.”
Punk had just wiped off the counter in the kitchenette when she heard the door open. Sighing, she placed a small smile on her face and peeked around the edge of the dividing wall.
“Are you hungry?” she asked as she watched her mother walk into the room.
With a sharp turn of her head, Mother stared at Punk for a few moments, then dropped her eyes. “No. Is there something in there for you to eat tonight?”
“There are a few pieces of bacon left.”
“Fine. I’m going out. Julia’s got a few friends who want to party tonight.”
Hesitating, because Mother seemed calmer than usual, and sort of sad, Punk said, “Why don’t you stay in tonight? We could play a game.”
Mother’s eyes moved back to Punk’s bright green eyes watching expectantly, hopefully. She walked over and pushed a loose curl back behind Punk’s ear.
Sighing, she shook her head. “Someone’s gotta earn money, and you’re not going to, so it’s up to me. Besides, it’s cold in here. You can have that extra blanket on my bed, okay?”
Shaking a little, Punk nodded, still as a bunny under the eye of a hawk. This was one of the rare times when her mother actually took a moment to look at her, to actually see her, and make a small gesture of kindness. She wouldn’t get used to it, because it may never happen again, this she knew. But it made her stumble in her dedication to get away from this woman and never see her again. It made her hope that maybe there was some small bit of love in her for Punk.
When Mother came back out of the room ten minutes later, twisting her bleached blonde hair into a topknot, she shattered the hope that Punk had reached for.
“Now that I think about it, your room is smaller and it probably stays warmer. Don’t touch my blanket. I’ll be late. Make sure you let me in.”
As she pushed the fuck-me shoes onto her feet, she glanced back at Punk before she left, her eyes moved around the apartment, her lips twisted, then blew out the door without closing it behind her.
Punk stood in the middle of the room, seething.
“Why are you so mean to me?” Punk said softly and used her mind to slam the door.
“Beautiful.”
The word invaded Punk’s sleep. A thought, sailing to her through the skies inside her unconscious mind, through stars that reached to infinity, a kind thought, someone loved her and thought that she was beautiful. If that were only true. Here, though, inside this world that didn’t exist, inside her own heart and soul, someone missed her and wanted her to come home.
“I’ve never had a home,” she whispered in the dream state to the phantom voice.
“You have a home,” it
whispered back, but then the dream faded and Punk woke easily, smiling, and felt wrapped in love.
Sitting up slowly, because she wanted to hold onto the feeling as long as she could, she looked into the darkness of her lightless bedroom. Something shattered beyond that closed door and she heard a loud voice yell, “Fuck,” then some laughing, a door slam, and she lay back down.
“Find the dream, find the dream,” Punk whispered as she did fall back to sleep. But the dream didn’t come again.
THREE
“When is your mother returning?” Mrs. Brooks asked.
“A few days, at least. I never really know.”
Shaking her head, the old woman tsk’d as she pulled out a small book. “It’s criminal, the way your mama takes off like that.”
“No, it’s a good thing. I wouldn’t be able to get away with my studies if she didn’t.”
“Still, you’re just a child, you should have some supervision.”
“I haven’t been a child for a long time. You kind of give that up if you have to take care of your mother.”
“Well, you’re not wrong about that, girlie. Okay, I’ve got your assignments for this last book. Once you finish it, you’ll have officially finished your second year of High School. If you keep up like this, young lady, you’ll get your diploma in less than a year.”
“Oh, yes! I’m so excited.”
Mrs. Brooks slid a hand out to caress the too-slender child that she thought was perhaps the most beautiful girl she’d ever seen, and that included her own two daughters long gone to their lives in other cities. This child just had a special glow about her, along with the biggest green eyes she’d ever seen and the prettiest shade of strawberry blonde hair.
“Sweetheart, you sure you can’t let your mama know we’re doing this?”
“No!” Panic was obvious on Punk’s face. “No, if I do, she won’t let me finish, and Mrs. Brooks, I have to finish. I have to go to college. Please, you can’t tell her.”
“Of course not, not if you think she’ll stop you. Although, I can’t imagine a mother who wouldn’t be thrilled with such a bright child.”
“Don’t try. It isn’t pretty. My mother is…” Punk trailed off, her hands sliding across the new book, her fingertips scoring the embossed lettering. “Mother is very different from most mothers.”
She couldn’t bring herself to tell this kind woman that her mother hated her. Most of the time, Punk half believed that it was because her mother was so messed up and couldn’t love anyone, and the other half she was convinced that it was because there was something so very wrong with her. Either way, it was family business and not to be aired, as Punk’s mother often told her, “in public.”
“Thank you, for all you’ve done for me. I’d better get home and get this book put away, just in case. Mother is anything but reliable. She could come back today, or come back in two weeks.”
“Honey, you got enough food for that long?”
No. “Yes,” she answered with a smile. “Thanks again.”
As Punk started out the door, Mrs. Brooks came up behind her and took her hand.
Punk looked down to see a wadded up bill in her hand.
“You go down to that supermarket and get something nice to eat, young lady. I insist.”
“Mrs. Brooks…”
“If you don’t, I’m not helping you anymore.”
Punk smiled. She knew that was an empty threat, but she was grateful for the generosity.
“Okay, but I’m going to pay you back someday. For everything.”
“I know you will. Get out of here and get to that store.”
After stashing the book in her secret place, Punk raced down the stairs and into the streets. It was twilight, the sun had set, but left just some streaks of pink across the sky behind the apartment building. The air was cool, but it was definitely beginning to warm up. Early March brought the promise of spring and the waiting summer beyond. Punk nearly skipped down the sidewalk, a twenty dollar bill in her hand and all the incredible possibilities it meant. Tonight, there would be chocolate bars and the rarest thing of all…ice cream.
All of her goodies spread out on the crooked coffee table, sitting on the floor with the new book spread open, Punk was as happy as she thought she’d ever been.
Mother was gone, the heat worked tonight, so it was warm in the apartment for a change, and a half gallon container of chocolate chip ice cream waited in the freezer. Two chocolate candy bars lay on the table with a bag of potato chips and something called a Twinkie. She’d just finished a frozen pizza, yum, and washed it down with a red drink called crème soda. Her mouth was so happy!
When the knock came at the door, she stopped, shocked, because no one should be here. Mother was gone, and Julia with her. She decided to ignore it, but it continued, becoming more insistent.
Finally, because whoever it was on the other side of that door was ruining her perfect night, she stepped close to the door.
“Whoever you are, no one is home.”
A sharp masculine laugh followed a single hard knock.
“If no one’s home, then who are you?”
“I’m no one. Go away.”
“Come on, little one, let a guy in for a drink. I’ve come a long way to get a little and you can’t send me away.”
“I’m just a kid, I can’t help you.”
“You sound old enough to me,” he said, his voice too low.
“Get out of here,” Punk said, her voice just as low.
She meant it, if he didn’t, she was going to use her talents to make him leave.
After several long moments of silence, in which Punk knew that he was still there, a low incessant cadence of light knocks began.
Furious that her night had been interrupted by this creep, Punk felt the power surge in the pit of her stomach.
A light air began to move through the apartment, twirling softly around, lifting some tissues that were lying on the coffee table, and a newspaper abandoned on the floor.
Suddenly, the door flew open and Punk faced the man who’d finally stopped knocking. He was tall, and cleaner than most of her mother’s friends.
His smile let her know immediately, though, that his ideas were no cleaner, so when he started through the open doorway, she put her hands out. The man stopped in his tracks.
“Hey, what ya doing to me?” he said, confused.
Punk shook her head. He was too drunk to remember any of this anyway, so she shoved both hands out simultaneously and the man flew backward, hard, and crashed into the wall in the hallway.
“Don’t come back,” she said loudly and used her power to slam the door and relock it.
There, she thought, that should do it. She listened as he finally started back down the stairs.
Releasing a long breath, she sat back down on the floor in front of the little buffet she’d set up. Mother would be pissed, but that proved something else to Punk tonight.
Her powers were getting stronger.
Punk woke to loud talking, Mother and Julia, she could tell just by her ability to read their presence in the living room. They were home!
Opening her door, she started out when she heard Julia yelling at Mother. Julia didn’t ever do that.
“Rena, no! I’ll stop you if you do!”
“Why? It’s not like the kid has any bright future, you know that. I live this life, you do too. She might as well get used to it.”
“She’s too young!”
“She isn’t too young to take care of them. I ain’t gonna let anyone actually have sex with her. But she’s young and pretty, they’ll pay a pretty penny just to drop their jeans and have her touch them. That’s all. What’s wrong with that?”
“You’re sick! I won’t stand by for this. Rena, if you do this, I’m taking her out of here.”
“You ain’t doin’ jack shit! She’s my daughter, and I’ll do with her what I will.”
“I’ll call the cops.”
“I’ll smas
h you if you do.”
Pressed against the inside of her room, Punk listened to every word. And she understood what they were talking about too. Punk agreed with Julia, Mother’s plan would never work. She herself would stop them, any of them, that came to her.
Finally, Mother spoke again. “Julia, you don’t realize, she isn’t…a kid, not like normal kids. She’s not…quite…I mean…she’s a monster.”
Silence again as Punk felt confusion, fear, and anger build up in Julia. “You are crazier than I ever thought you were, Rena. Mark my words, I won’t let you do this.”
Punk heard Mother sigh. “Yeah, it’s a bad idea. I just thought that she might be able to earn her keep, you know? She’s just such a burden.”
“Stop that! Punk is a lovely child and she’s so gentle and sweet. I can’t understand why you treat her like you do.”
“She’s not human! She’s the child of a demon from hell. I know you’ll really think that I’m crazy now, but I could never love something like her.”
“Then you need to let me call the authorities and have them find her another home.”
“No! No one knows what she is, I can’t risk it. What if she hurts someone?”
“Fuck, Rena, the only one hurting anyone around here is you!”
“I don’t disagree. But you don’t know what I’ve been through for the past thirteen years.”
“Maybe I don’t, but I know what that little girl has been through since I’ve known you, and it isn’t good. I’m serious, Rena, if you do anything to hurt her more than you already have, I’ll have you behind bars.”
“Noted. You can get out of here now, Julia. And don’t come back.”
Punk’s eyes hurt suddenly, tears springing in them.
No, not Julia! She needed Julia!
