Author's note: Brace yourselves as I'm presenting to you a Lost Boys fic based on the not so popular second movie, "Lost Boys: The Tribe." Yes, we know the original Lost Boys film is the best out of the three movies made so far, with a possible fourth in the works during the publication of this story. Save your comments about how The Tribe sucks, how Edgar, vampire!Alan, and vampire!Sam should've gotten more screen time, how there was no David, Dwayne, Marko, and Paul - just... STOP.
Trigger warning for abuse and rape. The story is rated "M" for a reason, so if you get offended, it's YOUR own fault for ignoring the warning.
A special thank you to Markolvr who's been a great inspiration to me and has put up with far too much of my nonsense XD
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.
"When I Was..."
I was born in 1974 and I died in 1995, only to come back undead...
When I was five years old, Mom ran out on me and Dad. She said she was tired of taking care of us and that she deserved more in life than a hopeless alcoholic of a husband. Dad fell apart, but instead of drinking more, he just got more angry. He took his anger out on me, and because we lived in a bad neighborhood where domestic abuse and homicide was all too common, nobody said anything about the bruises and cuts on my body.
When I was thirteen, I was raped by my dad's best friend, someone I'd known all my life. He took me out for a drive one night and we parked in the outskirts of the city in an abandoned parking lot. In the backseat of the car, he told me everything was okay and that he would take care of me, that what he was going to do would feel good. He was always so nice to me every time he saw me, giving me hugs and kisses. He told me to be quiet. I was quiet, too confused to understand what was going on, but then he started hurting me. He lied to me. It hurt so much that I started crying and screaming. He wouldn't stop after I screamed at him to stop, screamed for help. He started hitting me and told me to shut up.
When I was fourteen, I took advantage of a boy at school because I wanted to regain my sexual freedom and to be in control of myself. Dad never believed me when I told him what happened with me and his best friend. He said I was a liar just like my mother. I didn't want anybody to touch me like that again. If anything I would be the one in control, so I forced a boy to have sex with me. I didn't see anything wrong with it. We were both the same age. I was a lot smaller than he was but he liked it. His body didn't lie. Even when he asked me to stop, I didn't. I touched him everywhere and I took him in the girls locker room after school. I was suspended shortly after he told his parents about what I did to him, and they in turn told the principal. I didn't care. Dad didn't care. I got what I wanted. It was the beginning of gaining control of myself, my confidence, and I would use it to my advantage from now on.
When I was fifteen, I left home and hitchhiked to Santa Carla's world famous Boardwalk. The year was 1989. Nothing could be more exciting than being in the city dubbed "The Murder Capital of the World." I quickly made a lot of new friends there. They were kids like me, wanting to be wild and free. It was there, one summer night, that I met Shane, a so-called "Surf Nazi." He was good looking, smooth talking, but cold to the touch. No, I didn't screw him, but he kept eyeing me, brushing his fingers along my hair. He said I had "potential" and charisma. He wanted me to join his gang. I laughed in his face and left not even five minutes into the conversation. Back then, I thought only people who couldn't think for themselves joined gangs. I did whatever the hell I wanted and nobody told me what to do. I wouldn't allow anyone to have that power over me. I only stayed in Santa Carla for a few more days until I got bored with the people there and went back home. A week later, I got a postcard from one of my new friends there, saying that someone plastered missing posters of me there because I left without saying a word. I must have made quite the impression there.
When I was sixteen, I got pregnant. I got carried away with sex. Nobody was stopping me then. At this point I've been kicked out of a few schools. Dad wasn't hitting me as much anymore, as he'd gone back to drinking. Half of the time he wasn't even aware of what day it was. As long a the welfare checks continued coming in, the only thing he cared about was that the fridge was full of beer. I was basically free to do what I want. I was invited to a party on a college campus by a girlfriend of mine. I was having sex with boys and girls. It felt really good and the only reason we ever got in trouble were because of the other teens, kids who were jealous of us getting any real action while they were left out in the cold in virgin territory. I couldn't remember how much beer I consumed or weed I smoked. There was loud music and plenty of hot guys to go through. Found out I was knocked up when I had morning sickness and I skipped my period; pregnancy test confirmed my suspicions. Didn't go to any doctor (didn't have health insurance) or any Planned Parenthood clinics (too embarrassed). I wore heavy sweaters over my stomach and scaled back on the partying. I did occasional blowjobs or carpet munching but being pregnant kicked my ass. I was sick and tired a lot of the times and still dragged my ass to school. I didn't care what anybody said. I was used to people talking behind my back.
Nine long, agonizing months later, I wound up at a hospital when my water broke. A friend at the time took me there and that's where I gave birth to a baby boy who was (shockingly) in good health. There was no way I could take care of him, I knew that much, so I decided to give him up for adoption. I held him once before the nurse took him away for good. For those few minutes, I looked down at his wrinkled little face, hoping that he'd have a better upbringing than I did. If anything, I hoped he would turn out to be a better person than me. Since I was underage, my dad was called and informed of what happened. A month after I gave away my only kid, I was kicked out of the house. The following month, I was told Dad died of alcohol poisoning. Too bad.
When I was eighteen, I dropped out of high school. I was surprised I lasted as long as I did, even if I was just scraping by. From there on out, I stayed with whoever could offer me shelter. I'd do whatever they wanted me to do. There was no way I wanted to sleep outside in the cold.
When I was twenty-one, just a month shy of turning twenty-two, I was dying. A car accident sent myself and my boyfriend at the time over a cliff just outside of Luna Bay. My boyfriend died on impact, his body pinned halfway under the demolished vehicle. I'd been thrown out but when I came to, I found myself in a pool of my own blood. I couldn't feel my legs, it was getting hard to breathe, and my vision was fading fast.
That was when I felt someone pick me up and hold me to their chest. I struggled to keep my eyes open as my body was shutting down. I recognized Shane's voice right away. I thought he was some kind of guardian angel, rescuing me like this, wanting to help me, knowing that he still remembered me after I brushed him off years ago.
"Never grow old. Never die. Never know fear again. What's it going to be this time, Lisa? I'm extending my offer to you to join me."
That was a no-brainer. Who the hell wanted to die like this? I was still young, I was still beautiful. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to follow Shane…?
"Okay," I answered before I blacked out, not knowing what I was getting myself into.
What would have been my twenty-second birthday, I was a half vampire and I had made my first kill. By pure chance, Shane and I came upon my late father's best friend. I was feeling nostalgic and we were visiting my old neighborhood. The asshole was washing his brand spanking new mid-life crisis car in his driveway; he gained some weight, lost some hair. I didn't even wait for my new leader to tell me when to attack. I lunged, ripping into his jugular and slaughtering him like the disgusting pig that he was. He took what was precious to me at 13, so it only made sense I took his life in exchange. He broke me when I was a child and so how ironic that he helped me become a true, merciless killer.
Frozen at twenty-one as an immortal vampire and with Shane as my sire, I knew there was no looking back.