The next step was retrieving the ring.
My mother hardly ever took it off, and now I was starting to suspect that it was for a reason.
I slipped the box into my overnight bag and pulled it under the bed, leaving it to wait until I could get ahold of the ring.
As if on cue, I heard water running nearby. I bit my lip as I peeked out into the hallway. My mother had gone into the bathroom, I saw her shut the door behind her.
I waited for a few minutes, until I felt sure she was showering. Then I went to my parent's bedroom.
I looked around for the ring, but of course she would wait until she got into the bathroom to take it off. She was too careful, too cautious.
She has to know about the box, too.
How much does she know?
I prepared myself to enter the bathroom, standing in front of the door. I was reluctant, but I knew I'd already come too far to back out. The questions were worth the possible answers. The answers were worth the embarrassment.
I softly opened the door, thanking the heavens that for once, it didn't creak. I caught sight of the ring immediately, sitting on the sink, shimmering in the white light of the bathroom.
I slid through the crack in the door, glancing over to the shower curtain. Mom was blissfully unaware.
Retrieving the ring, mission complete, I rushed out in fear of being caught. The door creaked slightly as it shut, but thankfully, my mother didn't seem to notice.
Once back in the room, I pulled the box back out and wasted no time. And yet again, as expected, the ring fit perfectly. The box opened to reveal...
A gun?
That's it? A gun?
But as I reached for it, I felt the buzzing again. It was not an ordinary firearm.
Before I could investigate, however, I replaced the ring in the same silent fashion as before. Only then did I feel semi-comfortable.
The gun was bulky and black, a standard looking handgun. But it was obviously not, the energy buzzing from it proving so.
I wasn't well-learned in guns, but I thought it looked like something I'd seen my father shoot at cans with.
What did he call it? A 45?
There was an empty clip, and no bullets to be found. Staring down the barrel, I was assured that it didn't fit any bullet I'd seen before. Not that I'd seen a lot of bullets. It just looked too small.
What to do now? Take it with me, ask my parents?
I could ask Jesse. Not sure he'd tell me, though.
This has to be a weapon against the vampires.
Why else would it be stored separate from his other guns?
I shoved the box into my bag but kept the gun separate, as I didn't know how the box locked exactly. I didn't want to risk having to steal the ring again.
I looked for a safety feature before I stored it, but there wasn't one. Despite it having no bullets, I was still nervous slipping it into my bag.
I was anxious about staying in the house, given that I had stolen something, so I rushed to leave. I said no goodbyes, nothing. The only thing on my mind now was the crushing weight of everything that occurred in only a weekend.
The vampire, the magic, Jesse, his mom, my dad, the lock box.
It was too much.
Coupled with my lack of sleep for coming up on 48 hours, it was driving me insane. I couldn't think straight.
Never before would I have snooped on my dad. Of both parents, he's the one I trusted more.
But if he had been keeping this from me, could he be trusted?
And my mom, too. What did she know?
And Jesse... It seemed everyone around me was let in while I was expected to stay safe and stupid.
How was I going to go to university the next day, go to classes and act like nothing happened?
How could I go on with my daily life without knowing the truth, the full truth, and how I'm somehow tied into this magic thing?
Were more vampires going to come to me? Would I get upset and accidentally hurt someone with this lucid magic stuff?
I tried not to cry as I drove from my parent's house and to Misty's Bar.
11am on a Sunday, and I was going to the bar. But Misty, she was a witch.
She had to know something, in general or about the weapon.
At the bar, Misty was flirting with the customers, filling drinks and simultaneously her tip jar. I approached her and sat down, where, upon seeing my tired blue eyes and messy curls, she poured me a shot.
I didn't even make a face when I threw it back, my sleeplessness affecting my taste. If you had told me it was water, I probably would have believed you.
I shifted uncomfortably as the unloaded gun was seated against my side. I wasn't sure what use it would have in its current state, other than getting someone to take a look at it. Still.
"Not looking too good, Honey. Looking for a drink, or looking for Jesse?"
Looking for answers.
She ran a hand through her ginger hair, twisting it in her fingers as she poured me another.
"Jesse's on his way here, actually. So either way."
I stared at the clear liquid in the shot glass, not knowing how to respond, or if I should take it. I couldn't very well start asking her here, in front of several rowdy patrons. I guessed it was better to stay quiet.
"Thanks." I muttered, deciding to take the shot.
A woman sat beside me and asked for a mixed drink, but I didn't pay much attention. I would wait for Jesse, pressure him for information on the gun, and the vampires, and the magic. But for now, I decided to drink.
"Rough day?" The woman asked. I turned to her and offered a fake smile, to which she smiled back.
"I guess we all have those days."
A shine from her smile might have been comforting, if in my sleepless haze I had missed the presence of two sharp canines.
I narrowed my eyes at her, thinking it may have been a trick of the light. But as she laughed with Misty, I became sure.
Taking my last shot, I decided it wouldn't be worth it. The fear was sinking in, the woman's aura eating up all peace in the room. It was the same feeling Ian had given me.
Maybe I was being irrational. I was dead tired, and at the point where your brain begins to play tricks on you. I was on high alert. But the feeling of my heart beating out of my chest, the buzzing returning to my palms, everything told me to run.
I pulled out some cash, some of what that vampire Ian had given me the past Friday, and waved Misty goodbye. I didn't explain, nor did I feel obligated to. I just walked out while I was still alive and breathing.
Unfortunately, the woman must have known something was off. She followed me out into the parking lot, calling at me as if pretending to flirt.
My danger radar was going off into the red. I didn't even care that I shouldn't be driving, having downed three shots in rapid succession. I just wanted to get away.
In a matter of moments, she had materialized in front of me. Her eyes were normal, and something told me she wasn't trying to hurt me.
But given my heightened state, I couldn't turn off the terror welling up in me.
I reached for the gun, hoping it might scare her. Shaking as I pulled it from my shorts, holding it up to her face. My arm trembled as I placed my finger on the trigger. I knew it wouldn't fire, but I still closed my eyes as if I was about to see something I'd want to forget.
Without warning, I was tackled to the ground from the side. I scuffed my exposed leg as it hit the concrete, my face smashing into the ground and immediately making me dizzy.
I heard the gun hit the cement, and a few muffled voices. But it was getting harder to make out the sounds.
The world was spinning, a ringing in my ears getting louder and louder. I saw movement, but couldn't understand the shapes and figures.
From all sides, my vision grew dark like a camera filter. I was drifting away, though I tried to pull myself up. But as it grew darker and darker, I fell into its grasp, fading out.