Submitting to the Bloodlust

***Dearest reader, This chapter may trigger PTSD in those who have experienced abuse in their childhood... This chapter does not include any real-life events. This story is fiction.*** There used to be a time in my life when I was scared of the dark. Monsters lurked in the depths of the darkness, awaiting their next meal. Their whispers would call out to my soul, trying to lure me into their clutches. I could feel their presence watching me as I slept. My mother told me that when I was scared, I should turn on my bedside lamp; the light would scare the monsters away. However, when I slept with it on, it would only illuminate the faces of the beasts that stood at the foot of my bed. I dared not scream when they came too close, fearing their punishment. My mother used to be the ideal mom. She would pack my lunches before grade school with little notes that made me feel good when I read them. Despite being a single parent, she attended every award ceremony, parent-teacher conference, and PTA meeting. That was until she met her husband, Frank. After their honeymoon stage, he started drinking on the weekends with his buddies. To feel connected to him, my mother began to drink too. Their casual drinking turned into binge drinking, which then turned into daily drinking. Soon after that, the fighting began. When I heard Frank kick his boots off after his workday, I would retreat to my room and hide with the monsters. I seldom left my room when he was home. He was an evil man, saying vile things to my mother in front of me and humiliating her in front of others. Frank saw nothing wrong with how he treated her. Since my mother was always drunk, I don't think she even noticed how ugly he truly was. When their screams became too loud, the monsters would cover my ears and make me hide in the closet with them. I began to understand that the monsters were not the creatures lurking in the darkness of my room, but the humans who fought outside my door. As I got older, my friends' monsters disappeared. They were just figments of their imagination, conjured by their fear of the dark. I began to accept the darkness and the monsters that continued to linger in its depths. I stopped fearing them and accepted them. That was until the night I saw what they were capable of. Now I spend my days trying to figure out how to get rid of them, and my nights hiding from them. Twelve years ago: The monster inside my room tonight was the one who would always cover my ears when Mommy and Frank got too loud. He was the nicest monster, hiding me when Mom was gone, and Frank was looking for a victim. However, he wasn't here all the time. Most of the time, it was one of the other two who watched over me while I slept. He only came when things were really bad. Although he was the nicest one, I hated seeing him here. I knew that if he were here, Mommy would not be there for me the next day; she would be too sick to come out of her room. I would hear her cry from behind the cracks of her closed door until Frank got home, and she was forced to come out. I hate Frank. I jump from my bed when the slam of the front door shakes me awake. The tiny purple clock reads 2:58 am. Frank's home. I hear glass crash onto the tile floor, and I am instantly pulled into the closet by the nice monster. He buries my head into his chest and covers my ears. The house vibrates around me, as if an earthquake is coming. Even through the flesh covering my ears, I hear Mommy scream out in pain. She screams again and gurgles as if she is unable to breathe. Frank has never hurt Mommy before. Like a rocket, the monster leaves my side, and I hear wood crashing around in the living room. Where did my monster go? When I emerge from my room, I watch as the nice monster uses his fangs to bite Frank in the neck. He grabs Frank by the head and twists it around. Mommy shrieks when Frank's neck pops, and his body hits the floor with a lifeless thud. Mommy frantically backs up from the monster who is walking towards her. He is angry, and Mommy is scared. Mommy has blood coming from her nose, her lip, and both of her eyes look like she slept in dark makeup. Her hair and upper body are wet. She still has the yellow rubber gloves on her hands that she uses when she washes the dishes. “D-D-Demon,” she stammers when she can no longer retreat. She is stuck between my monster and the kitchen wall. “What are you d-doing here?” she asks. Her eyes fixate on her husband’s limp body on the floor, “Y-Y-You killed him.” “He was trying to kill you, Olivia,” he says, his lips snarling as he speaks, showing off bloodied fangs inside his mouth. His eyes are bloodshot, and his voice is deep. Suddenly, I find the nice monster scary, and I start to cry. He and Mommy notice me at the same time. My mom tries to move past him to come to me, but he blocks her way, getting closer to her. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handkerchief, wiping some blood from her face. “What kind of mother brings a man like that into her home with her daughter?” he states. Mommy's face turns red. “You don’t need to concern yourself with MY child. You’re a Vampire; you shouldn't be around her either.” She shouts, just like she always does to Frank. The difference is, the monster stays calm, wiping Mommy's face again with the white cloth. “Our child,” he corrects her. Mommy's body goes still, and she stops breathing. Her face pales, and then she casts her eyes to the ground. The monster leaves Mommy and comes toward me. I want to run from him, go back to my hiding place, but he would know where to find me; he will just come after me. He bends down inches from me and looks into my face. “You don’t need to fear me, child. I will never harm you,” he whispers, and although he frightens me, I believe him. He holds out his hand for me to take, and I do. He walks me back into my room and lifts me onto my bed. When he looks into my eyes this time, his pupils are dilated so far that you can no longer see his colored iris. “You will forget what happened here tonight. You will forget about Frank, and your mom will go back to being the best mom she can be. You will no longer notice the vampires that I send through the night to keep you safe. I love you, my daughter, and I will be back to get you when you come of age and can finally enter my world.” He kisses me on the forehead, and the image of him fades, along with all the bad memories in my life. Present: That night has been replaying in my head for a few days now. Whatever that man did to me, it worked. It's as if he used a mind-control device that erases secret memories. I forgot about Frank. I forgot about the vampire who claimed to be my father, being in my room that night, and I never saw the monsters again. About a week before I turned eighteen, all the memories started flooding back. Whatever he did to me, he did to Mom too. Ever since that day, she has stopped drinking and focused on being a good mother. She even got a teaching job and has recently been promoted to assistant principal. The night I started to remember things, I got so freaked out that I slept at a friend's, and I haven’t stayed at home since. I'm too scared to sleep at home because I fear I will see the vampires lurking in the dark again. I also fear that life as I know it will be stolen from me. He said that I was his daughter and that he would come back for me. Wherever he wants to take me, I don’t want to go, but it did not sound like I had a choice when he told me he would be back. I've tried to ask Mom so many times about my father, but she never told me the truth. “I’m sorry, honey. I had several boyfriends at the time. I was playing the field, nowhere near wanting to settle down. He could have been any of three men who have all died,” is what she would tell me each time. I asked her once who “Demon” was. She was lost for words when I asked. She told me a story about how God kicked Lucifer out of heaven, and when he became Satan, he hired fallen angels to do his dirty work for him, and that they were called demons. I learned about religion in school, and I don’t think her explanation was accurate. Either way, that’s not what I meant, and I think she knew it. I have two days until I turn eighteen. I don’t know if that’s when he will come for me, but I don’t think it’s coincidental that I have been getting my memories back lately. Something has changed within me too, and I don’t know who to talk to. I should probably talk to Mom, but I don’t want her to tell that Demon guy. I’ve been ravenously hungry lately, to the point I no longer care if the meat is cooked or not. I prefer my steak bloody now. I see better at night than I do during the day, and my once dark blue eyes are now stone grey. Whatever kind of monster my father is, I think I am becoming one too.