As Henry headed towards the school building with his sister and their bodyguard, students greeted them from afar, congratulating the siblings as they regularly did. But only Tamara ventured to go closer. Spotting Henry, she went gently toward him and embraced him. "Oh, Henry, I missed you," she said quietly. I feared you'd dropped out of college, especially with our external examinations coming up so soon. Henry smiled, trying to put her at ease. It's okay, dear. I'm here now, and I'm ready. At school, no one noticed anything strange about Henry. He was sharp as usual, answering questions with ease, and his professors were smiling with pride. Everything looked to be going perfectly. Henry pushed himself to prepare for the following examinations, trying to keep his focus. But one day, things changed. During class, Henry suddenly felt weak, his body shaking as an overwhelming thirst for blood overcame him. His eyesight dimmed, and he could scarcely keep himself motionless. Desperately, he leapt up and dashed out of the classroom, leaving everyone bewildered and concerned. Tamara, concerned, promptly raced after him. Henry, are you okay? She yelled out, her voice filled with terror. At that moment, Deborah, who was just coming out of the female restroom, spotted her brother staggering toward the male restroom. She recognized quickly what was happening. Without hesitation, she raced after him, sneaking inside the restroom and shutting the door behind Henry. Visibly agitated, she stood by the sink, holding its edges as if striving to stabilize herself. His face appeared white, and beads of sweat ran from his forehead. Henry, look at me, Deborah encouraged quietly but fiercely, going closer to him. She could see the anguish in his eyes—the effort he was fighting to contain. I know what's occurring. You need to feed. Now. Henry tightened his jaw, shaking his head firmly. No. I swore I wouldn't have human blood. Not yours, Deborah. But you're becoming weaker! Deborah mumbled, her voice filled with concern. She ripped out her hair holder and used the pointy portion to cause a tiny gash on her arm. Fresh blood welled up instantly. You have no choice right now. You need this to survive. Henry's eyes blurred as the stench of blood filled the air. He attempted to turn away, but the perfume was overpowering. His fangs extended involuntarily. Deborah. No. "Do it," she urged, thrusting her bloodied arm closer. I'm your sister. I won't let you suffer.
Henry stared at the blood flowing from Deborah's arm, his throat tightening with thirst. He shook his head fiercely, backing away as far as the tight restroom would allow. No, I can't. I won't hurt you, Deborah. You won't hurt me, she murmured quietly, edging closer. You're my brother. You're in pain, and I can't see you suffer like this. Please, Henry. Just take it. The scent of her blood was intense, and Henry's resolve began to crumble. He had tried so hard to avoid this, to reject the horrible cravings that now defined his existence. But his control was fading fast. He clenched his fists, battling the gnawing hunger that clawed at him. Deborah extended her arm out again, her look adamant. Just do it, please. With a deep grunt of exasperation, Henry gave in. His shaky hands sought for her arm, and he put his mouth to the wound. The minute her blood touched his lips, a flood of warmth engulfed his body, relieving the pain that had been consuming him. He sipped gently, attempting to keep control. Deborah stood still, her breathing steady as she allowed him to take what he required. In that process, a little drop of tears rolled down the cheek of Deborah. When he finally pulled away, his face was filled with shame, but the bloodlust had dissipated, leaving him clear-headed again. I'm sorry. Henry muttered, wiping the corner of his mouth. It's okay, Deborah remarked, her voice calm. I told you, I'm here for you. Just then, the sound of Tamara's voice emerged from outside. Henry? Deborah? Are you two alright in there? Deborah hastily bandaged her arm with a piece of cloth and gestured for Henry to be calm.
She opened the door, feigning a grin as Tamara and a few apprehensive kids glanced inside. Everything's OK, Deborah said, shrugging off the concern. I just had a minor mishap, and Henry wasn't feeling good. We'll be okay. Tamara's eyes flickered between them, concern engraved on her features. Are you sure? You both look a little strange. Henry, still shocked, nodded faintly. I'm alright, genuinely. I just need some air. Okay. Tamara paused but didn't push more. Let's get you out of here. As they made their way out of the restroom, Deborah glanced at Henry, softly reassuring him. The torture had passed for now, but they both knew it was only a brief relief.
Debora calls Venom following the incident with her brother at school. Ever since that time, she has begun feeling ill, though she has sought to hide it. Henry, her brother, noted the difference in her but wasn't sure what to do. His initial inclination was to take her to a hospital, but the risk was too large. Their identities, tied to darker secrets, would be exposed, putting both their lives at risk. So Henry had a difficult option. He would gaze over his sister, helplessly observing her change into a vampire while carrying the guilt of not being able to assist her. As the days went by, Deborah got weaker, the curse of the venom progressively taking over. Henry did his best to disguise his worry, but emotionally, he was disturbed by what was happening to his sister. He promised to keep her from becoming a threat to others, especially to humans, knowing the horrible hunger vampires had for human blood. Once Deborah's shift was complete, Henry struggled desperately to curb her thirst. He began bringing her the blood of his livestock, assuming that would be enough to appease her desires. But it wasn't. No matter how hard Henry tried, Debora's urges simply became stronger with time. One afternoon, while Henry was at school, Deborah found herself alone in her room, the need for blood tearing at her insides. Desperate and unable to resist, she called for her maid. As soon as the maid entered the room, Deborah's instincts took control. She bounced on the woman, biting into her neck and draining her blood with a frightening need. The taste of human blood was intoxicating, far more potent than the cattle blood Henry had been feeding her. As the maid's life evaporated, Debora felt an enormous burst of strength and energy pour through her. Her body felt alive—more alive than it had ever been since her change. When the truth of what she had done hit her, Debora glanced at the lifeless maid on the floor, her hands quivering. But instead of feeling shame, she felt a dark satisfaction. The hunger was finally gone, replaced by an exciting sense of strength. At that moment, she recognized that dining on human blood was the only way to properly fulfil her needs. She craved more. From that day forward, Debora secretly kept converting everyone working for her into vampires. One by one, her maids and attendants fell victim to her bite, becoming her loyal creatures of the night. She covered her acts skillfully, ensuring that Henry never noticed the shift in the household. The once-normal servants now strolled the corridors, their eyes shining with the same desire she had felt, each one ready for their next taste of blood. Weeks later, Tamara returned to visit Henry at their home. The two were in the living room, catching up and enjoying each other's company. They chuckled, completely ignorant of the deepening darkness within the house. But one of Deborah's recently turned maids was close, lurking in the shadows of the hallway. The maid was starving, her new vampiric instincts taking over her. The freshly turned maid lingered in the shadows, her hunger gnawing at her insides as she observed Tamara and Henry from a distance. Her teeth itched to dig into flesh, and she could scarcely contain the temptation. The smell of human blood was driving her wild, and she knew she couldn't hold back for much longer. The maid's eyes fastened onto Tamara, her stare dark and hungry. Inside the living room, Tamara paused, feeling an ominous presence. Henry, did you hear something? She questioned, glancing toward the passageway. Henry shook his head, chuckling. You're probably just imagining things. This house can get very eerie sometimes. Henry's smile hinted at a mixture of warmth and interest as he glanced toward Tamara, wondering if she had observed anything peculiar. What would you like to eat? He inquired, his tone light and welcoming.
Tamara's answer was cautious, her eyes darting about the room. I'm not hungry, but something hot would be wonderful. Like coffee. Her voice fell off, and Henry nodded heartily.
Coming right up! With gobs of milk, just the way you like it. He moved to the kitchen, leaving Tamara alone in the sitting room.
Unknown to Henry, Maria, the vampire's maid, viewed this as her chance to act. She emerged from her hiding place, her gaze locked on Tamara with a wicked intent. Her quiet footsteps scarcely sounded as she crept approaching the sitting room.
Just as Maria was about to bounce, Deborah appeared out of nowhere, her grip like a vice as she grabbed Maria's arm. With a swift gesture, Deborah drew Maria into her room, the door closing behind them with a quiet click. Stay put; I will be right back, Debora added. After leaving the room, she set her sights on one of the male guards. Approaching him with a charming, deceitful smile, she said, Hello, I need your assistance, and I want you in my room right now. The male guard, unsuspecting, followed Deborah to her chamber. As soon as he entered, he failed to notice the female maid, now a vampire, hiding behind the door. Suddenly, the female vampire pounced at him, plunging her fangs into his neck. The guard let out a quick, awful scream. Meanwhile, Henry was in the kitchen, cooking something for Tamara. When he heard the wail, his heart plummeted. Tamara, recognizing something was incorrect, got up and shouted out to Henry.
Her voice trembled as she called out to Henry, "Did you hear that?" Her instincts screamed that something was dreadfully wrong.
Henry's countenance darkened, his eyes flashing with anxiousness. He recognized the source of the wail all too well. Without hesitation, he deployed his remarkable speed, vanishing from the kitchen and reappearing at the scene of commotion.
The awful scene that faced him made his blood run cold. Maria, the female vampire, was attacking the male guard's neck, drinking his life power with uncontrolled abandon. The guard's lifeless body dangled like a puppet, his face ashen and dead. Debora stood nearby, her look steely and unremorseful, her eyes shining with a calculating intensity.
"Debora!" Henry's voice sank, amazement and rage blending in his tone. What have you done? His eyes flashed with indignation, and his teeth bared in a snarl.
What is going on here? Henry demanded, his voice tinged with hatred and disbelief. What have you done? He repeated, his tone growing in wrath.
Debora's lackadaisical approach only heightened Henry's frustration. "Calm down, Henry," she murmured, her voice dripping with contempt. She needed it. And he'll be OK. Trust me.
Henry's rage boiled over. "That's not what I asked you!" he shouted. Why are you doing this? Turning them all into vampires?
Debora pretended innocence, her visage a mask of bewilderment. Doing what?
But before she could continue, the door flew open, and Tamara stood motionless in the entryway. Her eyes widened in horror as she took in the grisly scene: the motionless guard, Maria still eating, and Debora's guilt-ridden face.
Tamara's shivering body seemed to stop time itself. Her lips parted to scream, but Debora's preternatural speed proved too swift. In an instant, Deborah buried her fangs into Tamara's neck.
Henry's horrified yell rang around the room. "No!" His heart shattered at the sight of Tamara, the woman he cared for, being changed against her will.
Debora turned to him, her eyes icy, dark, and unremorseful. Why are you so upset, Henry? This is what you made me into.
Henry's guilt weighed heavily on his conscience. "I'm sorry," he said, but she didn't deserve that.
Deborah scoffed, her voice empty of pity. Deserve? You mean, like I deserved to be turned? She saw everything, Henry. To safeguard us, this was the greatest thing to do.
Henry's eyes focused on Tamara's struggling body, his heart heavy with grief. There were other ways, he mumbled, knowing he'd lost Tamara to the darkness.
As Tamara's body began to surrender to the transition, Henry carefully pulled Tamara into his arms, cradling her as if she were fragile glass. He carried her to his room, thoroughly etched on his features. He would nurture her back to health, no matter the cost.