by Amber Kalkes
“Drink?” Trevor yells over the music at me as he takes our jackets from us.
I shake my head, but Melanie orders herself a drink. I continue to scan over the area, looking for someone matching the description on the news. But it’s hard, there’s a lot of dark haired, white males in the building.
“Here try this!” Melanie yells and hands me her drink. I take it from her and feel the burn of the alcohol in my throat, as I swallow it along with a citrusy aftertaste. Making a face, I pass it back to her making her laugh, “Not your thing?”
I shake my head and cough a little. That’s incredibly strong.
“Do you want to dance?” She asks after a few minutes.
“I…“
“There’s a guy staring at you!” She tells me, cutting me off. Nodding in the direction behind me, I turn around to see a sinewy blonde looking at me with a smirk. When he sees me looking at him, his smile only widens.
I look away hastily and clench my hands into fists when I see him start to approach. My nails bury themselves into my palms and the pain of it keeps me from running in the opposite direction. Glancing at Melanie, I see her looking at me with concern and that only makes me more anxious. I don’t like that look, especially on someone who already likes to bury her nose in my business, enough as it is.
“Hey!”
I jump back at the loud voice in my ear and a hand steadies me on the small of my back. I move away from it and look up into a pair of amused, dark colored eyes. He’s much more attractive up close, but he’s still not my type. Do I even have a type? I think back on all my ex-crushes. No, I don’t really have a type. But if I did, this guy would not be it.
“Hi.” Melanie answers for me, “What’s your name?”
“Corey.”
“Hi Corey, I’m Mel and this is Shoshanna.” She says effortlessly with a sweeping gesture towards me.
Corey’s dark eyes land on me and he smirks, “Hey. I saw you over there. I was wondering if you wanted to dance.”
I shake my head and am about to answer, but Melanie cuts me off, “She’d love to, wouldn’t you Shoshanna?”
“I...“
“Great.” Corey grins. “I’m not much of a dancer, but I’d be willing to try.”
Corey grabs my hand and gently leads me onto the dance floor. I don’t dance. Maybe, when I was little, and mom tried to stick me in ballet but that was even short-lived. Corey stands behind me and wraps a hand around my waist, making me tense. I don’t know what to do, so I try to get a hint from the other couples. I look away quickly though because it looks too intimate. I feel like I’m intruding just watching them, and my cheeks heat at what it reminds me of.
“Just move your hips a little.” Corey instructs loudly in my ear and I grit my teeth. I really don’t like his hand on my stomach and even more so when he starts to grind against my behind. Still, I try to fit in and move my hips a little.
I’m actually getting into it a little, until he kisses my neck. I immediately pull his arms off me and push myself away from him. I don’t acknowledge him calling after me as I walk away. Moving through the gyrating crowd of patrons, I try to find a place I can catch my breath. Hands, so many hands touch me, caress me, and leave me feeling like I’m going to be sick. I can’t escape. Because every time I flinch away, I’m pushed into another body.
I need air and I need it now.
Pushing my way through the crowd, I spot the bright red exit sign a long way away. I focus on it like it’s the light at the end of the tunnel, and try to get to it as fast as I can. My breathing is nearly in pants and my whole body is shaking with nerves. When I reach the end of the crowd, I rush for the door and push it open. When the cold air hits my overheated face, I take in a few sharp intakes of air.
I lean against one of the brick walls at the opening of the outside alleyway, and pull my flannel over shirt tighter against my body. Wrapping my arms around my stomach, I bend over, trying to stop the bile rising in my throat. The feeling of all the disgusting hands on me, plays over and over in my head, and I gag a little in my mouth.
A muffled scream gets my attention, and I look around trying to find out where the noise is coming from. I hear it again and I’m surprised as it seems to be close to me. Standing up, I skim my hand against the brick. I can’t see much as I walk a little deeper into the alley. It’s dark, but there’s a muted light given off by one red naked light bulb outside the club’s another back exit.
Squinting, I see a man dressed in dark clothes with a woman in his arms. She’s easier to see and I can make out her features, since she’s the one facing me. She has long black hair, which is messy, and her dark eyes are wide as she looks over his shoulder at me. Her mocha-skinned hands are like claws, as she clings to his covered arms. Her long red nails dig into the fabric of his jacket, as she attempts to hold herself up. She looks scared but also blissful, which is confusing.
Suddenly, her eyes seem to finally register me. Her darkly painted lips part and widen into a quiet scream. Now, I really see the fear and realize this isn’t just some couple’s embrace. I’m frozen in my spot. I don’t know what to do, but I know that something should be done. Parting my lips, I must have done something because the man suddenly stills.
Slowly, he detaches himself from her form and turns his head in my direction. I feel my stomach drop to my toes, as glowing red eyes meet mine. I notice long pointed fangs marred with blood, as he bares his teeth at me. I feel my mind begin to reel. An impossible word pops into my head but I push it away quickly. They don’t exist and even if they did, what would they be doing here of all places?
Despite my denial, it becomes harder to push away the theory, when my eyes see blood staining his chin as well. I can’t seem to look away from his eyes and the longer I look, the longer he stares back. He seems to snap out of it though when the woman in his arms begins to struggle. When she attempts to scream, he quickly snaps her neck, stopping her movement and letting her fall to the tarmac below.
He faces me fully and I take an instinctual step back. He narrows his crimson red eyes at me, before giving me a menacing smile. My blood runs cold and I put my hands up in some pathetic gesture of surrender. I’m not even in control of myself. It’s my traitorous body that has the control, as it starts to give in to the flight reflex. I’m about to bolt, when an arm wraps around my waist and slams my back into the nearby brick wall.
Now I’m face to face with a vampire, something I never thought would be possible. Blinking rapidly, I look up at him with pure fear. It surprising to me that I feel fear. I never felt fear when I tried to kill myself, just conviction in my actions. It felt right to be doing that but this isn’t like that. I’m not in control of the situation and that has me scared out of my wits.
His pale hand wraps around my neck and I let out a gasp as it tightens around my throat. My whole body is shaking, but I don’t look away from his eyes. I don’t know why I do it. But, I figure it comes from the last reserve of whatever courage I may have left in me. Closing my eyes, I slowly angle my head away from him, offering him my neck.
Just do it, I plead to him in my head, Just do it now.
Suddenly he’s gone. I slump to the dirty ground in a heap, with my heart hammering in my chest and my throat feeling a little bruised. I look around the alley but there’s no trace of him. Tears begin to build up in my eyes, as I cover my mouth to stop a building sob from escaping. I don’t know if it’s in relief or agony that he didn’t kill me, but the tears are unstoppable once it starts.
After a few minutes of this, I steady myself against the wall as I get to my feet. Wiping my damp cheeks with the palms of my hands, I’m down to just tentative breathes. I stumble closer to the mouth of the alley and look around the scene. As I begin to speed walk back into the crowd, I wonder what stopped him from killing me.
Maybe he wasn’t interested in you, the uncharitable part of my brain retorts.
Maybe he wasn’t. I don’t know and to be honest I don’t wa
nt to know. This was a stupid idea anyway and considering my reaction when faced with the reality of it, it wasn’t for me. Wrapping my arms around myself, I start walking home without my coat, heartbroken, and without a shred of dignity left.
Chapter Five
Pedigree
I lay my head against the cool taxi window, as the city’s sights pass by. I’m exhausted. I haven’t slept very well since the incident with Lawrence, and now, fang toothed blood drinkers have been added to the nightmare mix. The only concept of a vampire I have is the western version. Ridiculous eastern European accent, dramatically wielded cape, and of course, the urge to “want to suck your blood”. It’s all pretty cliché and cheesy, but most of all, nothing like the creature I met last night.
His bright red eyes and blood stained chin come to mind and I shiver. Yeah, nothing like the Dracula version I’m thinking of. Sitting back in my seat, I accidently meet the cab driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror. Averting my gaze, I look out the window but feel my tension rising. I don’t like being looked at. The irrational but very real paranoia that he’s judging me.
I pull down the sleeves of my back up winter coat, and try to ignore the churning in my stomach. I tell myself that he has no idea who I am and all he wants is my money. His opinion, even if he has one, shouldn’t matter to me. It shouldn’t matter, but for some screwed up reason, it does. Glancing in his direction again, I’m relieved to find his eyes are stationed and focused on the road ahead.
It’s all your head, I chant to myself.
“We’ll have to take the highway.” He says loudly, making me jump, “There’s too much traffic this way.”
“Um, okay.” I nearly whisper. Can we just go now?
“Just thought you’d like to know.” He murmurs.
Now, I feel like an asshole. Clearing my throat I try to speak louder, but wince at the unsteadiness in my tone, “Y-Yes, thank you.”
He says nothing else and for that I’m thankful.
It only takes another forty-five minutes of driving, before the taxi pulls to a stop outside of my parent’s house. Shakily handing him a few bills, I scurry out of the cab and inhale the fresh winter air. I clench my fists and stand perfectly still on the sidewalk, with my eyes closed until the taxi pulls away. I try to force myself to pull it together, but the reason for coming here only peaks my anxiety.
I know that my parents love me and I love them, but they also like to meddle in things they don’t understand. My depression, my anxiety, and all my other issues aren’t something they can sympathize with. My mother has always been too self-contained to ever understand my outbursts. My dad is so rational and calm, that he doesn’t comprehend my fears and irrational thoughts. He tries, they both do, but I don’t think they can truly look at me and not be scared shitless. I don’t blame them for it either. I scare myself sometimes.
Unclenching my fists slowly, I try to even out my breathing as my heart starts to slow down to a reasonable rate. I open my eyes and try to slip on my most convincing sanity façade. I’m okay. I’m taking my pills. I am not having any suicidal thoughts at all. I even made a friend. Yes, I think I’m getting better. Dr. Reynolds would agree with me. He’s very optimistic.
Taking my first steps towards the house, I run through my lines, preparing for the expected inquisition. Pushing open the small wrought iron-gate at the stop of the steps, I take a last calming breath. The house is beautiful, it always has been, even in my darker memories. It’s a colonial style with three floors. We’ve lived here ever since I was really small. It’s the only real home I’ve ever known, but even in here, I don’t think I ever felt comfortable.
I knock on the door once, before it swings open to reveal my mom. She looks fantastic in her white turtle neck sweater, with the sleeves rolled up her elbows, black slacks, and bare feet. Around her neck, is a red coral pendant that Charlotte, me, and our dad got her for her fortieth birthday. The sight of it rises up emotion, so I quickly avert my gaze to her face. Her hooded almond shaped black eyes sit perfectly on her clean alabaster skinned face. Her long black hair, streaked with gray, is pulled back into a tight bun off her face, as she gives me a small smile.
“Annie, you’re late.” She says, making me fight an eye roll.
Walking into the house, I start to remove my jacket, “There was traffic.”
“You could have called.” She says disapprovingly, as she eyes my secondhand jacket. “We should get you a better jacket. Something without all the holes.”
I lean over and kiss her cheek, while purposely ignoring her comment, “Mom, I don’t have a cell phone. How was I supposed to call?”
She twists her petite mouth a little, “Still, a call would have been nice.”
“Okay.” I agree with a sigh, not willing to get into an failing debate, “Where’s dad?”
“In the sitting room.”
I nod and make my way deeper into the house. The inside décor is white, clean, and minimal, with a modern edge to it. Mom did all of it. Dad has his study, the one place in the house that is his, and only few are allowed entry. I think I’ve only been there once or maybe twice. That was always when I was in big trouble. Speaking of my dad, the man himself is in his favorite chair, and the only one that looks sturdy enough to hold him. It’s a white leather recliner with silver studs lining the top and arms of it. His eyes are trained on the European soccer match playing on the flat screen TV, over the white washed stone fireplace.
“Are they winning?” I ask, as I lean against the sitting room’s doorway.
Dad turns his head and gives me a quick smile before nodding, “They’re well on their way.”
I study my dad as the match seizes his attention again. He looks nothing like me and to be honest, I don’t expect him to. He’s a tall man, nearly six feet compared to my mother’s diminutive five foot, two inches, and my own five foot, six inches height. His hair is light brown and is thinning a bit on top, but it’s easy to see the handsome young officer my mom fell in love with.
“How was the doctor’s appointment this week?” He suddenly asks as the commercial break begins, “Is he feeling good about your improvement?”
Internally, I groan but outwardly I appear impassive, “He wants me to open up more but that’s nothing new.”
“Are you going to do it?”
I purse my lips and shrug. A silence settles in and though the match is back on, I can feel Dad’s gray eyes on me. I cross my arms across my chest and stare intently at the TV, but it’s not long before he speaks again.
“You have a bruise on your chin.”
I self-consciously touch the now yellowing bruises on my chin, “I slipped on some ice.”
“Day dreaming again?” He asks with a teasing smile.
I’m relieved he doesn’t sense my lie and smile a little, “Out in the universe with no intention of coming back.”
“Until your face hit the concrete.”
I let out a quiet laugh, “Until right then, yes.”
Mom comes into the room from the other entry and gives us both warm looks, “Dinner is ready. I hope you’re hungry, Shoshanna. You look so thin.”
I tuck some hair behind my ear and don’t retort. I don’t really have much to say on the matter and if I did, it would just become a fight. No one really says anything as we all make our way to the dining room. The pretty light fixture above the center of the table catches my eyes. It’s made of crystals and the rays of light from the implanted bulbs give a lovely glow to them. It must be a new addition.
“Good thing you like it.” Dad whispers as he passes by me, “I think the damn overpriced thing is ugly as sin.”
I give him a wry smile and sit down between my parents who sit on either side of the table. I try not to focus on the empty chair across from mine, but it’s hard. It’s one of the reasons I don’t like coming here. Everything reminds me of Charlotte and more often than not, the thought of her is painful. I miss her and I have no doubt that my parents feel very much the
same, even if they don’t show it.
“Did you do anything fun last night?” Mom asks innocently as she starts placing food on my plate. I try not to grimace at the action but I can’t say I’m surprised. I feel a little relief though, when I realize that the food is obvious takeout.
“I went to a club downtown.” I mumble as I grab the glass of water sitting out in front of me, “Just to try something new.”
“Did you like it?”
A mental image of the vampire with his fangs bared and the blood on his face flashes through my mind. My heart rate jacks up and I shakily bring the glass to my lips, “I… It was alright.”
“Meet any young men?”
I give her a tight smile over the rim of my glass, “A few.”
“No one caught your interest?” She asks with a small frown.
“I’m not exactly the dating type Mom.”
“Of course you are.” She says with a dismissive wave, “Any man would be happy to have you.”
What about a homicidal vampire?
“I wouldn’t know Mom. I’m just trying to focus on my job right now.”
“How’s that going by the way?” Dad asks, relieved by the change of subject.
“Good.” I answer, “I don’t think the café industry is for me though.”
“It’s a step in the right direction.” He says encouragingly.
“You haven’t had any attacks there, have you?”
I chew on my lower lip and shake my head.
“See? Already an improvement.” Mom adds with a pleased smile.
Clearing his throat, Dad decides to step into the conversation as my discomfort becomes more noticeable, “Made any friends?”
I hum in response, as I set my glass back down on the table. Okay, you rehearsed for this. Let them know how well adjusted you are and then you don’t have to talk about it for the rest of the night. Easy enough, right? Maybe.
Dad and Mom share a delighted look, before Mom asks, “Is it a female friend?”
