This is easily one of the darkest things I've ever written. Take that as you will, if you continue reading.

One final note; this story takes cues from a short story from a pretty famous horror writer. I'm curious to see if anyone will recognize it.

My first clue was her hair.

I had six children before her. Three of them were born with their father's brown hair, while the other three were born with my fair color. As a case in point, my only son Lincoln's hair is so blonde that it appears white and pasty in pictures and videos.

She was different. When she came from my womb, she already had tufts of dark, raven hair. She looked unlike any of our relatives, only baring the faintest resemblance to a reserved ancestor named Harriet, who had been chased out of her town for the practice of witchcraft.

But I paid little attention to her black hair, and focused more on greeting my new daughter to the world with the loving smile and warm tears of a mother. I still feel that stirring feeling now, though to a much less moving degree. I don't know what kind of creature she is, but she is still my daughter. A wicked, twisted, inhuman being that's a danger to everything… but still my daughter.

Two days after giving birth to her I finally returned home from the stuffy maternity ward, and I carried her in my arms as my husband wheeled me indoors. When I entered, my son and daughters all rushed down the stairs with cries of "Mommy! Mommy!" while their grandfather beamed at me from the couch. I laughed and cried as I hugged and embraced them, my husband taking little baby Lucy from my hands. He watched me kiss Lincoln on his freckled cheek with a warm smile, and little Lynn Jr. ran to her father and hugged his leg.

"Can I see the baby?" she asked with her usual brand of active excitement. All of her siblings were eager to look at their new sister as well, so I nodded at Lynn and watched as he carefully handed the blanketed girl to our oldest daughter Lori. She smiled at the pale baby, and all of her siblings huddled around her to watch as Lucy yawned silently, stretching her stubby arms. We were all so enamored by how defenseless and adorable she was that no one noticed the unnatural glinting shine around the front of her mouth.

Within the same week, as the children were outside playing in the backyard under the watchful eye of their father, I sat on my bed and unbuttoned my shirt, revealing my right breast to the cold air, ready to feed my baby. She had been crying for minutes now, and I knew she was hungry. As I brought Lucy to my chest to feed her, I felt a sudden, sharp pain that forced a scream from my throat. I nearly dropped her, but my maternal protectiveness kept a hold. I slowly removed her from my nipple, and discovered with shock that it was bleeding. I raised Lucy's lip with my fingers, gasping at my discovery.

Within one week, somehow, Lucy had grown a full set of adult teeth.

I blinked in shock, unable to believe what I was seeing, but there they were; two rows of milky white teeth, stained by my blood. And her canines… they were sharper than knives.

The baby's tongue ran over her lips and teeth, drinking the mix of milk and blood she had drawn from me. And it was only then that she seemed content.

That night, I told my husband what had happened, and showed him my bandaged bosom. I unwrapped some of the gauze, showing him the sharp teeth marks. He frowned lightly, and walked to Lucy's crib as she slept, poking her upper lip to reveal the same fangs that dug into me. However, he didn't seem too concerned, turning back to me with a shrug. "Well, honey, nature does weird things to people. There are people with horns and tails in the world, for Pete's sake. If anything these teeth just shows how healthy little Lucy is."

I didn't find his logic sound, even then. Looking back, he may have been simply trying to rationalize it to himself. Regardless, I agreed to drop the matter, though I never breastfed Lucy again after that. I fed her formula through a bottle, and while she lapped up the milk she was given, she never seemed as satisfied as when she drank my blood.

Sorry, it's a bit cold in here. Excuse me if I shiver a little.

After that, there was no major incident as far as I could recall for at least a year. In that time, we decided to move Lucy in with Lincoln and Lynn. I had a gnawing feeling of dread as I tucked in my two angels. I could feel a dark aura emanating from Lucy's side of the room. But it was my imagination, I believed. At some point, I began chastising myself for being a terrible mother. How could I be so paranoid and afraid of a sweet baby girl?

My guilt washed away one morning when I found her eating a live bird in front of the open front door.

The poor robin tried to fly away, flapping its wings desperately, but Lucy held on to it with an unyielding grip. She brought it closer and closer to her mouth, and with a sickening crunch, bit off its head. I clasped my hands to my mouth as I watched the small songbird cease moving, and watched as Lucy devoured it slowly. She tore off its wings with her hands, and ate the orange breast whole. Her face was covered in the feathered flakes and blood of the tiny animal.

But what unnerved me the most was that, when she finished with her kill, she dropped its shredded remains to the floor with a wet splat, and she turned to see me standing behind her, watching her with fright.

And she grinned. She grinned a bloody grin.

Then, as all children usually do, she wiped her mouth with her sleeves, staining the black clothes we had bought her with crimson gore. At this point I knew something was incredibly wrong with her. I had her again baptized, as if there was some demon or devil possessing her that could be chased out with holy water. I was naive back then. An exorcism works if the one baptized is possessed by a demonic force. It doesn't work if they themselves are not human. I found out as much when I found several more bloodied bodies around the house, usually those of rats and birds.

My other children were also changing, with different developments along gendered lines. My five eldest daughters all began to complain of the same ailments; headaches, vomiting, rapid heartbeats and difficult breathing. Luan suffered the most from this; my poor daughter's skin became clammier and paler with each day, and she would often run to me crying, shuddering in my arms. I took them many times to the doctor, but he couldn't explain it at all. All he really could do was give Leni a lollipop to keep her from panicking.

Lincoln, on the other hand, was growing up healthier than his older sisters. He didn't complain of any problems aside from what was to be expected of a normal growing boy (the occasional flu or cough). However, his behavior was what changed. He spent the most time with Lucy, and he seemed to grow more… servile to her. Whatever he thought she needed, he would bring to her. It was usually nothing more than a toy or a bottle, so I didn't give it much thought until one day he wrestled Lynn to the ground, angrily attacking her for grabbing Lucy to play ball with her. The two dealt blows to each other until I separated them and sent Lincoln to his room as punishment. Later, when I asked why he hurt Lynn, he sniffled and answered "She wanted to play ball with Lucy. Lucy would've gotten hurt."

He was fully convinced he was in right. Oddly enough, when he and Lynn later made up, he didn't react negatively at all when Lynn told Lincoln to play soccer with her. He simply smiled, nodded his head, and rushed to the backyard with his sporty sister.

I was growing more and more worried by the day, confused at what was happening to my family. One night, as me and my husband lay in bed, I told him how scared I was of everything. I was scared of how my daughters were feeling worse. I was scared of how my son was growing more hostile. I was scared of… I was scared of my youngest daughter, so much so that I started growing out her hair just so I wouldn't have to look at her grayish, dead eyes.

He cupped my cheek, smiling softly. "I know the kiddos have some problems right now, but no one said parenting was going to be easy," he said with a kind, relaxing tone. I felt myself calmed merely by his presence, and his words filled me with relief. He then gave me a foxy grin and growled seductively. "You know what will take your mind of your problems?"

"Do you know what will?" I murmured back in a husky tone, as I reached toward his crotch and pulled out his member.

We made love, and for one magical night, I forgot my worries.

Later I found that I was pregnant. We were going to have a new mouth to feed. Or two. I had an odd feeling that I was overdue for twins. The symptoms of pregnancy came in soon after. The throwing up and late night cravings that forced Lynn to carry a long and random shopping list with him every time he went to grocery store. But despite all that, I couldn't been happier. I had always loved children, and the two (as I found out later at a visit to the doctor) children on their way made all my worries melt away. Even the cramps felt more tolerable.

Of course, I say that in hindsight. At the time, it was a living hell of pain and fluids and potato chips.

But it was all worth it when Lana was born, and when her twin sister Lola followed a few minutes after. The doctor brought them to me tightly wrapped in blue and pink blankets, and for a moment I felt fear as I held them. I lifted their lips, terrified that I would find molars or fangs…

Nothing. They were normal. And so, so beautiful. I adored them the moment Lola let out an adorable sneeze, as did the nearby nurse, who swooned over the babies. "Welcome to the world, sweetie," I said to Lana, before turning my head to look at Lola. "Welcome to the world, sweetie," I repeated.

And from their tiny bodies I felt something I hadn't felt for a long time. I felt the warmth and comfort a baby could bring as they slept, draped in your arms. I hadn't thought much about it, but I realized just how cold Lucy felt to touch. Where the twins were soft and warming, Lucy was rigid and chilling.

Yes, a lot like a corpse. Like you said.

How would she feel if I called her that? She'd probably take it as a compliment.

We're getting off topic. Let me continue.

Thankfully, Lola and Lana returned home healthily and just as their siblings had crowded over every other baby I've brought home, they crowded to look at Lola and Lana. Lori and Leni held the twins and tickled their plump cheeks playfully. They'll make good mothers one day. I can see it...

I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't cry. Can I please have a tissue? Thank you.

Well, if there's one silver lining to all of this, it's that Lola and Lana were unaffected by whatever their older sister was doing to our home. They didn't fall sick, they grew up healthy and normal, and they were the only two that seemed to fight with Lucy, refusing to share their toys with her. I think that, as dark and evil as she was, Lucy felt a touch of kindness for her younger sisters. The only time I ever saw her smile… saw her smile with childish and joyful energy… was when she watched over her little sisters.

If only she had that same mercy for her older sisters.

I'll never forget the day it happened. In my memory, it's so slow. It's as if that single day was pulled from time, and drenched in molasses so that every second felt like a minute, every minute felt like an hour, every hour felt like a week…

I was tending to the garden, humming a tune to myself. I scooped up handfuls of dirt with a small, iron spade and planted the seeds of flowers before covering the hole with the dirt again. As I lifted my hand to wipe my sweaty brow, I noticed a fuzzy green caterpillar climbing up my glove, and I smiled as I put it back on the ground and watched it crawl away.

"Mommy," I heard a voice behind me say. I turned around to see Luan standing behind me, sweating hard even for a summer day. Her white shirt was almost see-through, her skin was gray, and her breaths were ragged. "I-I don't feel so good. Can you..."

That was all she could say before she collapsed into my arms, coughing chunks of her lungs onto my shirt. I screamed for someone to grab the phone and call the ambulance, and her sister Luna heard me. The wait was agonizing. I clutched her tightly, reassuring her that everything would be okay and that the doctors would make her okay again. And maybe they would have, I'll never know.

For with one final gasp for air, my daughter Luan… my sweet, beautiful, funny, smart daughter Luan… died in my arms.

I screamed and sobbed as I felt her pulse stop. When I finally had the courage to look up, I noticed her standing there, watching.

Lucy.

Even through my blurry, tear-filled eyes, I could make out the look on her face. It was… nothing. No sadness, no worry, no anger, no confusion. Just a blank, neutral expression that made my entire frame shudder. She glared with her silver eyes, before turning back into the house and walking away while all her siblings ran towards me or kept their fearful distance.

When the ambulance arrived, there was nothing anyone could do. They couldn't bring back the dead. So they took her from me to examine. I gave them permission before I fainted onto the grass.

Days later, they returned to me with condolences and results. I tearfully thanked them for their apologetic words, and asked what went wrong… what had killed my precious Luan…

"There was, uh… it's hard to explain. She had lost a lot of blood, somehow, and there was something else. A foreign agent in her bloodstream. We don't know what could've introduced it, but we do know how it was introduced."

They handed me a picture of her neck. I strained my eyes as I stared at it, before realizing what they were showing me.

Two puncture marks, marring her skin.

Bite marks.

The first thing that came to my mind was the image of Lucy's sharp canines biting into my chest, and her pink tongue lapping at the blood that flowed. I shook it off, unable to believe that. There was no way, I rationalized. And who wouldn't have rationalized that away? If I believed that it was Lucy that somehow did it, I was abandoning the entire scientific paradigm in favor of myths and fairy tales. And more importantly, I would be abandoning the love I still had for my daughter. I couldn't accept it. If I had the hindsight I have now, I would've thrown her out of my home and onto the streets.

No, then she would be someone else's problem. I would kill her. I would run a stake through her heartless chest, and throw her lifeless body into a large, blazing fire. And then I would bury the ashes in a land far, far away…

I mean every word of that. She took Luan away from me. She took Luan away from Luna. She took Luan away from everyone. I'll never forgive her.

We held a funeral later that month. Many of our friends and relatives came. Ruth wiped a tear away from her eye as the casket went into the ground, and my father couldn't stop shaking. Luan had always loved spending time with her Pop Pop, and he loved listening to her try out her jokes and routines.

And now he would never hear another word from her again.

The only people more destroyed by this were her immediate family. Her father had become distraught and depressed. Her older sisters blamed themselves for being unable to protect her, while her younger siblings blamed themselves for not spending more time with her. Even the twins cried more often than they usually did, crying for the sister they would never know.

All but Lucy. She was as solid as a statue, and her body language reeked of apathy. She did seem a bit content in the graveyard, though. Like it was where she belonged.

The following nights I was wracked with haunting dreams. Nightmarish visions danced before my closed eyes as I thrashed and cried out in my bed, and even when awake I felt the presence of evil, supernatural things watching me. When Lynn would wrap his arm around me and ask me what I saw, I would turn into a babbling mess of a woman, telling him about all of my disturbing and disgusting visions as I pulled on my tangled hair.

"I saw Luan… and she was screaming… and I couldn't help her… and there were tombs… and blood… and all of our children were dying… the bats… the bats were everywhere, with owls and wolves following… everyone was sick… a bleeding cross in the sky..."

He hugged me and rocked me slowly as I twitched and babbled.

We never truly got over the loss of Luan. What kind of family would we be if we did? Luna and Lori were hit the hardest, and it took a long time before they could even accept what happened. We did start to adjust, of course, but we never took down the framed picture of Luan on our staircase. We wouldn't allow ourselves to forget her.

Our lives went without major incident until the time finally came for Lucy to go to preschool. I dropped her off, expecting a hug, but the young girl simply ran off with eagerness. I was upset and relieved at the same time, though I couldn't shake the feeling that Lucy was a bit too… excited to go to school. But I didn't want to worry about it too much. I needed to stay stress free for the new baby on the way, I realized as I patted my inflated tummy.

When I got the call from the preschool that she had killed the class pet, I wasn't even surprised.

She claimed it had been an accident, telling us the story in her deadpan voice. The teacher turned to a young boy who had also seen what had happened and asked him "Is what Lucy is saying true, Rocky? Was what happen to Mr. Carrots an accident?"

The young boy nodded his head furiously. He seemed so scared as he did it, his eyes glancing back and forth between his teacher and Lucy with pure terror.

"I don't see how Mr. Carrots could have accidentally ended up with no head..."

I perked up immediately as she said that.

"… but I'll believe you kids."

On the drive home, I glanced at her in the car mirror. Her reflection was hazy and slightly transparent, but I blamed it on the poor manufacturing. "Lucy… tell me the truth. What happened to the hamster?"

I tried to keep my voice commanding and strong, to hide my fear of her.

"It was an accident," she said grimly. And I pursued the matter no further during that car ride.

But by now, I had had enough of the bizarreness surrounding that girl. The death of Luan was returning to me, and this time I allowed myself to think that, somehow, her younger sister had something to do with it. A sense of protectiveness came over me, both for my unborn child and my precious children at home, who I couldn't protect from their shadowy sister.

I persuaded Lynn to install cameras around the house, using the excuse of 'watching over so many kids is hard heh heh' and waited for the installations to finish. Now every corner of the home was under my secure eye, accessible to my personal computer. I remember brewing a hot cup of coffee for the first night's watch. I set it besides me and opened my laptop, typed in my password, and set myself to watching.

While I did occasionally jump screens to watch over the rooms of the other children, my main focus was Lucy. She and Lynn slept together in the same room, Lincoln having moved down the hall now. I took a sip from the cup, the warm, creamy liquid pouring down my throat and keeping me alert as I watched the demon sleep. She didn't stir at all for the first night, much to my frustration.

But motherly care is a powerful motivator. It kept me alert and watching for weeks. My watch was only interrupted when I finally gave birth to our youngest daughter, Lisa. But by this point, I barely paid Lisa any attention. I was so focused on my cameras and keeping her safe from the evil in our home that I dumped all of her responsibilities on Lynn.

Night after night after night brought no fruits to my labor. Until, one late night about a week after my discharge from the hospital, I noticed a shifting in Lucy's bed.

I gripped my mug as I watched the girl rise from her bed. She threw off her black sheets and wandered over to her older sister. Lynn Jr. shifted undisturbed in her bed, and I watched as Lucy bent down and kissed the older girl on the lips, and Lynn immediately stopped moving.

I zoomed in to watch what she would do next. She tore off her sister's shirt, kneading and massaging her nipples lightly. Then she lifted Lynn with unnatural strength, and I felt a cold sweat form. And then… I watched in horror as Lucy bit into Lynn's chest and neck. I screamed as I watched the young girl drink and devour from her sister, her lips smacking and her tongue contorting and licking all over the athlete's body. I covered my mouth and watched with tears, paralyzed and afraid, as Lucy fed her inhuman appetite.

I don't remember the exact sequence, but next thing I remember was rushing up the stairs and throwing myself against the door. Lucy hissed when she saw me, and I tackled her to the ground. Lynn awoke, and started screaming and crying from the intense pain. "Don't touch my daughters!" I screamed at the monster in my hands, who only scowled at me, and screamed "LINCOLN!" in a voice so high-pitched it caused me to drop her and fall to the ground.

When I opened my eyes again, I found my son standing in the doorway, staring at me with an odd look in his eyes. They were glazed over and dead, as if he were in a trance. He swallowed painfully, before murmuring in a soft voice "Mommy, why are you so mean to Lucy?"

"Sweetie, get back," I called to him, but he stepped forward anyways.

"Why do you hate Lucy? Why can't you love Lucy like I do?"

"Lincoln..."

"SHUT UP!" he yelled as he raised his fists and started beating me, with strength far beyond his years. I gasped as he attacked me with no mercy. He was under her spell, and he needed to protect her. Every punch and kick made me wheeze and choke, and I was convinced that I was going to die, either by his hand or hers.

I was only saved when Lynn tackled her brother to the ground. She coughed, and I noticed how much blood was dripping from her. She was no condition to fight, but she still tried to protect her mother.

He pushed her off of him, and she passed out on the ground. By this point others had heard the commotion, and ran towards this infernal room. Before I could utter a word, the vampire and her thrall both cried out "MOM'S GONE CRAZY! SHE'S TRYING TO KILL US!" in unison. Leni ran screaming down the stairs and Lori rushed to grab her phone and call the police. Before I could say a word, my husband burst in and noticed his son and daughter crying for him to save them.

"Rita… what is..."

"Lynn, it's not what it looks like. Ask Lynn. She'll tell you..."

Only Lynn couldn't say anything. I knew as soon as I pointed to her that she would never say anything again. Her lungs had filled with blood, and she died watching her family try to kill each other.

With a pained, agonized cry, I realized I had lost another daughter.

I put up no fight as the police dragged me from the home and forced me into the back of their car. I saw that Lincoln was crying now, so I knew my daughter's spell over him had faded. And the last thing I saw, doctor, before they drove me away, was Lucy.

She lifted her bangs, and our eyes met. Her face was caked in her sister's blood, and it was cold and indifferent. But her eyes… her eyes shone of victory. The victory of a wolf over the sheepdog, leaving the helpless sheep to its hungry maw.

As they drove me to the asylum, I crashed asleep from tiredness and shock.

I still remember my dreams from that night, doctor.

Two gleaming fangs... dripping venom on my neck.