@Mystique_Dawn23 @Published under Webnovel
I used to dream of being an 'unnatural creature' when I was a child. My imagination was wild and boundless, and I would lose myself in fantasies of mythical beings. While many people would dismiss my dreams as mere whimsy, some indulged my fantastical ideas and even supported me at some point.
My mother loved telling me stories about vampires and werewolves. To my young self, Vampires were the most fascinating—each one of them with unique abilities, but it was their fangs that captured my imagination. I adored her creative storytelling; she was my biggest supporter, always smiling when I recounted my imagined adventures. According to her, werewolves were humans by day and wolves by the full moon. They had many leaders and sub-leaders, much like politicians—a term I didn't fully understand back then. They were, in my eyes, majestic and extraordinary.
Similarly, vampires were said to grow fangs when hungry and appear human when sated. I was always enthralled by these tales, ignorant of the darker truths. Nowadays, I longed for the simplicity of that naive childhood. The times when nothing made sense and everything was just a fantastical dream.
For my dress-up games, I crafted costumes from whatever I could find around the house. These makeshift outfits transported me to my imaginative world, where I could be anything from a dragon-slaying hero to a damsel in distress saved by my prince charming. I even fashioned fake fangs from cut-out white paper or pointy foil, delighting in the reactions of my brother when I bit him. Though my bites sometimes drew blood and left scars, I found joy in his frustration, even if it meant provoking him until my mother intervened.
My brother, with his secret ways of shielding me from trouble, was my protector and second father, though I never realized it at the time. He would cover for me in ways both heroic and foolish, and I often mistook his kindness for a ploy to curry favor with our mother. I never imagined he would sacrifice so much for me and he'd choose me over anything else.
Other kids often tease me back then, claiming I was adopted because I looked nothing like my parents. I cried until my brother appeared, like a superhero, and comforted me. He reassured me with his unique brand of logic—recalling how he'd been tasked with cleaning up my messes as a child, he argued, how could I be adopted? His words made me laugh through my tears, and even now, thinking of those moments brings a smile to my face.
Despite the mischiefs that I caused, my brother was always there for me. He comforted me in his subtle ways, which I initially misinterpreted as mere attempts to please our mom. It never occurred to me that he truly cared for me.
How I wish he's here to comfort me. I wish he would tell me stories, even the repetetive ones. I wish he would caress my hair just like back then, even if he'd sometimes pull it hard just to annoy me. How I miss my brother.
Reminiscing about our happy moments, my tears uncontrollably welled up. His memory brought back a flood of emotions, and I missed him deeply. He had left me alone. Just like our mother and father, he left me to fend for myself.
I kind of wished that I was with them when that tragedy happened. All of it happened so fast and terrefying, but even if it means death for me too—i'd rather take it than to live my life now.
I was once human. Now—Im barely grasping the concept of breathing. Yes, my heart beats, but Im rather dead. Inside and out.
I am a vampire. Afraid of the sun, blood-sucking, a creature, almost a vermin. I feed of other creature's blood, mostly sheep, but never human. I'd rather die than to hurt another human being.
I was forced to live like this ever since I was 'saved'. Saved, meaning I got turned into this vile creature that's tempted to kill everytime blood is near. I can't even enjoy my facvorite sceanery unless I inject myself with this protective serum that's supposed to shield me from the very vine of my existenxce back then—the sun.
Watching TV, reading, sleeping, and even talking to myself in my head are the only things that has kept me sane. For three years, I have endured boring commercials and repetitive cliche books. Even the shows are out of sync—no drama, no movies, not even reality TV. Just historical vampire events that I'm supposed to study. They say it's to help me "be familiar with it." It's supposed to train me with the transition from my old life to my current self. To be a 'proper' vampire, they said. As if I want to be like this… thing.
My 'mother's' voice interrupted my thoughts.
"Darling, come down for dinner," she called.
Dinner for me is more like a snack. Not that I'm thirsty for more, but it's always the same. There are only three options. I can't eat regular food like I used to. My diet is limited to the same boring sheep's blood. If I were to speak truthfully, I want something different—something sweeter and fragrant, but I can't have it. I won't.
"Coming…" I replied. She left my door and headed downstairs.
I followed suit. I was still thinking about the book I've been reading. It's about fated mates—an occurance plausible to werewolves. In the story, everything seems so rushed. I mean, if you meet your soulmate, do you instantly fall in love from just a touch or a glance? Even if you have old traumas or hatred towards each other? Love can't be that simple.
When I arrived in the kitchen, the dining table was already set. There was a variety of plates and utensils, all the normal but, I wasn't expecting on who I saw.
'This dinner is bound to be anything but fantastic.' I wisphered to myself.
"Good day, sweetheart," my 'grandmother' greeted. She looked sophisticated in her outfit, with sparkling jewelry that made her shine. She's pounded with face powder, a little too pale if I say so myself. Her lips, plastered in red, cheeks also witha tint of red. If not for her delicate facial features, she'd be looking like a clown. Her hair is dark, a common trait passed onto her family. She almost looked young, that is if Im not aware of her supernatureal nature.
"No one told me you were coming," I said, stopping in my tracks by the foot of the stairs. As I inspected the almost fully seated table, I noticed that the only empty chairs left were beside her and my cousin Joseph. Apparently, this vile lady, was never nice—except towards me for some reason. That is ofcourse based on the stories told by my only companions; my cousins.
"Do I need an invitation to visit my granddaughter?" she asked, still smiling, not even looking at me.
"I'm not your granddaughter, you know that," I said nonchalantly.
I know she's here for a reason, especially if she has my cousins and aunt with her. Even a child could see that she's up to no good. She once tore my bedroom door because I slept a little too well and wouldn't wake up when called by her. That's how sadistic she is.
But, I'm not afraid of this monster. She's been involved in so many unbelievable and horrifying things, not that I know all of them. She's the head of this family, an elder of our clan, or so they say. She always acts like the good guy, but if you're with her long enough, you'd know that she's nothing like the lady she's painting herself to be.
To be frank, I hate being in the same room as her. I hate that I have to put up with her. I hate that she has her grasp around my very being. I hate her.
She slammed her hand on the table, startling everyone. I didn't flinch—her behavior is par for the course now. My family members, trained to obey her every command, looked on in fear. They grew up with her words being law. I didnt.
"Sit down now, we can't keep the food waiting," she said with supposed grace.
Having no other choice for a seat, seeing that my cousin is bordering that other chair— I reluctantly, I took the seat next to my so-called grandmother.
"Why dont we start this feast." she said, right after I sat down. We were served the usual: blood. This time, it was chicken blood, which was unusual. It has always been sheep's given that my mother and father cant feed me any other type.
At the back of my mind, I instantly knew that there's definately something up. Given the circumstances, I wouldn't be surprised if that's the case, but, I pushed the thought at the back of my mind since I knew that stressing over the fact would just gain me more than just stress. I started eating—more like drinking.
'peaceful'
I almost believed in the serene atmosphere, like nothing was lined up to thrill my so-called life. Not a thing to break my absolute resolve not to completely turn into one of them. That's right, I'm not fully a vampire. Not until I drink human blood during my "vulnerable period," also called hunger. If I did, which would never happen, I would be fully turned. Then they could control me. That is the complete reason why I refuse to do so, and add to the fact that I hate vampires to my core. Of course, they have never accepted me into their little clan of deadly aristocrats. A stupid hierarchy system built for a bunch of old-fashioned vampires who can't even hold their liquor—or blood, I mean. I know my vampire half still has some effects on me, like it makes me faster, stronger, and even grants me enhanced eyesight, smell, and hearing. This makes reading an entire book a few minutes' job for me, though I always enjoyed reading them slowly to take in the pleasure.
But that was before it happened. Everything changed after that incident. Everything I knew about these monsters changed. Not for the better but worse. I've seen their real faces—what they're capable of doing. If I could, I would never go back there. Never in my life.
It took me everything to keep the rage inside me as I relived that memory. A deep inhale, a deeper exhale. I calmed myself before I could rip apart the house and those in it. There were better ways to rid myself of them. Better ways than throwing a tantrum or breaking glass.
If I said this was a peaceful dinner, I would've lied.
That serenity was destroyed with a single sentence.
"Sweetheart, don't be so cold. I have something prepared for you today. I think you'll be delighted." That's what she said, right before clapping her hands twice.
My immediate family was shocked, so I knew I would be too.
Just what exactly did she have planned? With the clapping, someone entered from the living room. A vampire holding something in his arms. No, someone.
I already knew what she was up to. This time, it's not going to happen.
When the door shut behind that vampire, the tension in the room became uncomfortably tight. The vampire was holding a kid—barely a boy. I could tell from his appearance that he was only around ten or twelve years old. I couldn't see the terror in his face from the height of his captor. The boy was blindfolded and seemed injured. He was crying. My "grandmother" must've been pushing him to cry. I could tell he was forcing his tears out. When his tears soaked the blindfold, his scent filled the air.
No, no, no, no, no, no!
When the vampire sat the boy down, he revealed the boy's neck to me, pushing his head to the side. The small fresh wound on his neck bled a tiny bit, but I knew. It was the bite of the vampire. It was a setup.
I knew how they pushed the boy. If he didn't follow, he'd be killed, and they'd find another unfortunate victim.
I started feeling the hunger. I trained myslf to not get hungry, but the thirst—the thirst for blood is something completely different.
They know I've resisted their torture so far, but they had to push it to this extent. It made me furious. But I couldn't show it.
As soon as I flinched from his scent, my so-called grandmother noticed, and she started speaking.
"Now, now, child. You must be hungry, right? This little snack is just for you," she said with a twisted smile. "Come, come. Drink your fill. You must be so thirsty. Let it flow in your veins," she encouraged.
Her words disgusted me. But I couldn't respond. No matter what I did, they'd still have a way to push me to the very brink.
With a stiff nod to the vampire, I took the boy and guided him to the door. The smell of his blood is tempting me so much that if Im my grandmother, I would have believed that Im going to feed off of him too. But I didn't. I called a maid, and ushered them to my Father's room. There, my father would hopefully erase this boy's memories and he could be let free. Poor soul.
"Such a waste." My grandmother spoke. I looked at her with malice, but I could only sit and hold my trembling hands, mind swerving with thoughts of feeding off that child. Im terrible.
"Your mother told me you were reading up on werewolves, is that true?" My thoughts were interrupted once again by this woman beside me. 'What does she want?' I thought, but instead of replying to her, I nodded my head, still focused on finishing my meal. I was a few more gulps away when my 'grandmother' stopped me with an unfamiliar sentence.
"Would you like to meet a werewolf?"
I paused for a second, looking at her and thinking this might be one of her ploys. 'She knows, doesn't she?' I thought. She knows everything. She probably has eyes on me 24/7. Her face, I would never forget—the smug, almost mocking face she had. I didn't dare look at her any longer. If I could, I'd rather rip her face off. However, I know what would happen if I did.
Instead, I responded with, "What do you want?"
My reaction to this might have caused some uneasiness, since I heard the chair beside me pull back. My cousin Joseph decided it would be a great time to leave.
"Joseph, please wait outside. We will need you later," she told him.
I didn't bother to react, but as I watched his shadow disappear beyond the stairs, I took a final gulp of the blood. The unsettling feeling was gnawing at me.
"You could have refused to take the offer, but as always, you can't even think for yourself. What a pity, child," she said, a glint of sinister mirth flashing in her eyes.
I couldn't react to that. This woman, this creature sitting beside me, was enjoying this. It took everything to control the rising anger, but my poker face seemed to do the trick. She continued, undeterred by my silence.
"Or should I call you a puppet, a mere tool of survival for them?" she mocked, leaning slightly toward me, her voice dripping with malice.
"Have you ever heard of the curse of the vampires? Or do you still believe in those children's tales your parents told you?" she asked, her tone filled with contempt. I stayed silent, gripping the table hard enough to leave imprints. The stories my mother told me were mere fantasies, something to keep me distracted. The truth, however, was far from what I had ever imagined.
"Your mother—she was always soft. Too kind-hearted to live among us. She was weak, just like you."
I couldn't hold back any longer. My emotions boiled over, my resolve cracking under the pressure of her venomous words. The chair flew backward as I stood, my eyes filled with pure hatred, focused solely on her.
"Don't you dare talk about her like that," I hissed, barely recognizing my own voice. I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears, feel the adrenaline surging through my veins. But before I could do anything, she smiled—a smile so twisted it sent chills down my spine.
"That's the spirit," she whispered, as if enjoying every second of my suffering. She slowly stood up, not at all intimidated by my outburst. Instead, she seemed delighted by it, as if she had finally achieved what she wanted.
My whole body was trembling with rage, but I could do nothing. I was trapped in this nightmare, bound by something far more powerful than I could ever imagine.
"I'll see you tonight," she said, walking away with a smug expression on her face.
I was left alone in the dining room, staring at the spot where she had just stood. My mind was racing, filled with thoughts of revenge, of escape, of anything that could get me away from this hellish existence.
But deep down, I knew there was no escape. Not from her, not from this cursed life. All I could do was bide my time, wait for the right moment, and when it came, I would make sure she would regret every single word she had ever spoken to me.
But for now, all I could do was endure.