• Chapter IV


    AUNT LINDA pulled slowly into her driveway, and we stayed parked for a few minutes without saying a word. Neither of us moved but stared out the window. I wasn't sure what was on Aunt Linda's mind, but as for me, I was stalling.

    I looked across the lawn at my house. It was completely dark. Could I have not at least left a porch light on? There was an eerie atmosphere surrounding the place, and my hands began to tremble.

    I hadn't realized how quiet we'd been until Aunt Linda startled me by asking, “So...why did you color your hair again?” Although she was trying to sound calm, there was a discerning look in her eyes.

    Taking off my seatbelt, I exhaled sharply and leaned back in the seat. “I told you already. I like this color. And so does everyone else.” Aunt Linda’s lips stiffened, and she nodded understandingly.

    “I know.”
    It was quiet for a couple of minutes as I stared at my dark and empty house. Stress slowly started to cause my blood pressure to rise.

    “Do you want to spend the night at my place?”
    I looked quickly over toward my aunt. “No, no. I wouldn't want to impose. I'm fine, really.”

    “Seriously, Kida. You looked so troubled earlier. I don't mind you staying over.” There was a hint of desperation in her voice that I couldn't miss, and I looked at her crookedly.

    “Honestly, Aunt Linda, I'm 18 years old now. Monsters don't scare me anymore.” I smiled with reassurance, but on the inside, I was shocked by the accidental pun. Right now monsters were exactly what I was afraid of.

    She shook her head. “Okay. Well...if you need anything, just call.”
    “Alright.” As I began to open the door, she grabbed my sleeve and opened her mouth to speak, but instead, let go and sighed with a helplessness that made me feel a bit guilty.

    “Good night, Kida.”
    A knot formed in my throat because I felt like saying good night meant something so much more, and I was forced to look away before she noticed my anxiety. “Good night.”



    AS I approached my house, more and more I started to question why I hadn't accepted my aunt's invitation.

    Maybe it isn't too late. I turned the key to the front door and immediately felt a twinge of anxiety in my stomach.

    I'm just paranoid. That's all. I shut the door behind me and threw my things on the couch before glancing up the staircase a bit perturbed. It was still very dark, but I was too afraid to move toward the light switch. Taking a deep breath, I switched on one of the lamps, and began walking slowly up the stairs, one step at a time.

    My body was trembling the entire way up, and I tried to convince myself that nothing had followed me here. I paid close enough attention to that on the way home.

    This terrible feeling lingered in my gut as I stood like a petrified child in front of my door. That instinct again. It hadn't failed me the last time, and I doubted it would fail me this time. I almost started to run back over to Linda's house, but my sanity got the best of me.

    I walked into my room and immediately saw that my window was open. My curtains were raging wildly.

    As it died down, my eyes refocused in the dark, and I was able to make out a dark figure on my bed. My heart stopped at the realization.

    The light from the moon shown just enough through the window to make out the
    silhouette of a person. It was sitting casually in the corner on top of my bed, arm propped up on one knee. I covered my mouth with both hands to keep from making any noise and backed up against my door.

    It followed me here.
    Tears trickled out of my eyes when I realized that I was going to die, and there was nothing that I could do to save me now.

    All of these different scenarios formed in my mind. I could try to run, but it would catch me before I even reached the bottom of the stairs. I could scream, but who could get to me fast enough?

    No. All I could do was wait. Why make things any more difficult? The figure reached out its arm and pulled off its hat. When it looked up, the light touched its face and a gasp released from my lips. There was no way I couldn't recognize that face.

    “Vincent,” I said aloud.
    A shadow stretched across his face when he smiled crookedly at me.

    “What are you doing here?” I tried to sound confident, but my voice only came out as a hoarse whisper.
    “What do you think I'm doing here?” His voice was so smooth it was unsettling.

    My lips trembled as the tears dripped down my cheeks. “You're going to kill me,” I stated as if I'd already accepted my fate.

    “Yes.” He said it in a way so that I knew I couldn't stop him. He was so straight forward that I had to accept it.

    Yes. He was going to kill me. And no, there was nothing I could do about it.
    Now, it was too late. The tears were falling more quickly, and I couldn't control myself anymore. I began to sob helplessly in my hands, letting it all sink in. Remembering all of my friends and family and thinking about what they’d do when they find me dead.

    Somehow, my memories brought me back to earlier tonight when that thing had me by the neck. Is that how it was going to end? Did he come to finish me off?
    But wait.

    Someone had saved me. That voice...it was so...familiar.
    Then it hit me.

    I lifted my head slowly and looked at Vincent, who was sitting comfortably on my bed. “It was you.” I whispered. The realization caught me off guard, and I involuntarily took a step toward him. “You were there tonight. After I was attacked.” Shadows moved across his face when he turned his head toward me.

    I noticed the corner of his lips twitch. “Yes,” he said matter-of-factly.
    “Why?” Nothing made sense anymore. If it was his voice that I heard than that means—
    “Because I saved you, obviously.”
    Saved me? “But if that's true then why—”

    My sentence was interrupted by a swift movement of air beside me. My blankets ruffled in the air as Vincent abruptly disappeared. I turned around completely shocked as the lights were switched on from behind me. How did he do that?

    “I'm confused,” I said softly.
    Vincent rolled his eyes and leaned against my door. “What a surprise.” The signature sarcasm in his voice vanquished any fear I’d felt before, and I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

    “You're not here to kill me.” The corner of his mouth turned up, and there was a slight glint of humor in his eyes.

    “Did I say that?”
    All of the color immediately drained from my face, and a tight, uncomfortable knot formed in my stomach. The taste of bile was creeping its way up my throat, and I couldn't move...couldn't breathe. Vincent's eyebrows arched as he looked at me, clearly amused.

    “Kida!” he said vehemently, half laughing. “I was joking!”
    I stared at him with a combined look of fear and disbelief, my body completely frozen in a defensive stance.

    “What?”
    It sounded like I was trying to speak while holding my breath. My voice was barely audible due to the lack of air.

    He laughed and shook his head. “You seriously think I'm here to kill you?”
    My gaze swept skeptically over his face, trying to get some sort of read, but all I could see in his eyes was obvious hilarity. He raised his eyebrows in such a way that encouraged me to say something, and when I finally began to grasp the idea that he was lying, I only became excessively angry.

    “Y-you just stay away from me,” I warned, slowly backing away.
    Vincent's expression went from humorous to serious very quickly. His jaw clenched, and his lips formed a thin pale line. For the first time, I could see the stress marks on Vincent's face, around his eyes and his lips, as if he'd held this expression for a long time. He looked older and more tired than I remembered. He took a cautious step toward me.

    “Kida, I told you,” he said wearily. “I'm not here to kill you.”
    “I don't believe you.” I sounded more convinced than I actually was. To be honest, I wanted to believe him. But I couldn't allow myself to be naive. After all, he did just help himself through my window.

    “Kida, do you really think that I'd kill you?” His voice sounded so tired...so weak. I almost felt bad for him. “After I saved you?”

    “Then,”—All of my frustration seemed to build up all at once, and it just exploded—“then why are you here!” I was so shocked by how powerful my voice sounded. Even Vincent's body went rigid, and he actually winced.

    By now my breathing had become very rapid and heavy. My body was trembling so badly, I wasn't sure if it was out of anger, fear...or power.

    When his body relaxed, Vincent glared at me with such passion, such hatred, that I almost broke down. His mouth was twisted, and his lower jaw was trembling. I felt like I was about an inch tall with nowhere to hide.

    “I'm here,” he said slowly, smoothly, his voice becoming louder with every word, “to make sure that what happened tonight,” until he's practically screaming, “doesn't happen again!”

    “And what exactly did happen tonight,” I whispered. Vincent relaxed when he saw the distress on my face and my body. And I couldn't help it, but my eyes swelled with tears as I tried not to cry.

    “Kida,” he began. “I think you should go to sleep now.”
    Go to sleep? I couldn't believe he'd suggest such a thing! My head barely shook side to side.

    “No.” I snapped my mouth shut, and my lips set stubbornly.
    Vincent sighed wearily. “Kida—”

    “No!” I shouted. “I'm not sleeping until you tell me what happened! I want to know what that thing was that attacked me! And don't tell me it was some mugger because that was not human!” I felt like my emotions were just about to cause me to spontaneously combust.

    “Trust me, you don't want to know tonight,” he said with a certain finality that really ticked me off.

    “Yes I do!”
    Vincent squeezed the bridge of his nose and said something unintelligible under his breath.

    “Fine,” he said, defeated. And when he looked at me with those deep sapphire eyes, I saw maturity far beyond my years. Far beyond any 18 year-old's years. I saw in his eyes a world of pain and suffering, and an unknown emotion swept over my body, taking me completely by surprise.

    I was totally captivated.
    “What do you know,”—he continued with a deep breath—“about Vampires?” And just as quickly, that feeling subsided, replaced by complete and utter disbelief.

    Vampires? Did he just say vampires?
    I began to laugh. And I mean really laugh!

    “Vampires?” I said sarcastically. “As in the blood sucking-sleeps in a coffin-can't go out in the sun vampires?” I mocked with appropriate hand gestures.

    Vincent winced. “More or less.” I began to laugh even harder.
    “So,” I said between breaths. “I suppose you're a vampire, too?”

    “Yes,” he snarled. Tears poured out of my eyes as I laughed. My sides were hurting so badly that I had to grab onto them. But unlike me, his face was frozen and twisted as if my mockery actually pained him. He gazed at me with sapphire daggers, and my laughing quickly slowed to a stop.

    “You're serious.” I said.
    Vincent's mouth twisted even more, and he said through clenched teeth, “Dead serious. Forgive the pun,” he said bitterly.

    I averted my eyes to the ground, unable to comprehend what he was telling me. Were all those movies true? All those myths? Do Vampires and all of those other mythical creatures actually exist? I had so many questions but couldn't wrap my head around what I wanted to ask. It all seemed like a big, terrible joke.

    “I told you. Maybe you should get some rest.”
    “Will you explain everything to me tomorrow,” I asked keeping my gaze to the ground, refusing to look at him out of fear that I might actually believe him.

    “I promise.”
    I pursed my lips and nodded, and when he started to leave the room, I suddenly became panicked. “You're leaving!”

    When he turned around, he had the usual, dry, facial expression as usual, and I felt more relaxed. “Do you want me to watch you change?” My face became hot as the blood rushed to my cheeks.

    “No!” I said defensively.
    “Okay, then,” he smiled. “I'll wait in the hall 'til you're done.” When he closed the door, I was left there. Alone. With nothing but my wild imagination. With all these questions. And with absolutely no answers.

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