Chapter Two
Blame
Her living room. It was a small room with exposed stone walls. Cluttered. Too many pictures on the walls, too many pillows on the couch, too many scraps of fabric draped over the tables and arms of chairs. A glass of orange juice sat on one of the side tables, seemingly untouched, while another, closer to her, was shattered at her feet. The television was on, her brothers' cartoon playing far too loudly.
The nasally voices of the characters grated on her eardrums. Lena winced, and pulled back the console table to pull the plug. The table flew, and hit the opposite wall, shattering the glass of a family photo above an armchair before crashing to the floor in pieces.
Quiet. Outside, the low whistle of wheat and grass sounded. No birds. No humans.
Lena stared wide-eyed at the broken television, and tried to make sense of what was happening. Toned as she was from farmwork, she shouldn't have been able to throw furniture around like that.
Her eyes drifted from the broken piece of furniture at her feet to her brothers. Neither of them said anything about her sudden display of immense strength. They sat on the couch, eyes wide with silenced terror.
The youngest, Adrian, was the closest to her. His Mickey Mouse pyjamas were soaked in blood. Seven. He was seven, and he looked like he had been mauled. His face, sweetly innocent, was ruined. Deep gashes ran from his forehead to the base of his neck, skin peeling away from the wound as it steadily leaked blood.
Nik sat beside him, a bowl of cereal spilt over his lap. His feet were tucked up under him, one sock slipping off. His cheeks were wet with tears, and his puffy lips were pale blue. His throat looked like it had been ripped out, a hunk of flesh missing from the space his neck should have met his shoulder.
"Adrian?" she whispered. Then, when he didn't reply, "Nik?"
They didn't so much as look at her. Dead. She knew it already. She could somehow sense it.
Lena faced the other side of the room, where her mother was slumped against the far wall. Her head hung to her chest, curly hair covering her face. Wet, her black shirt stuck to her body, and her skin - darkened by the sun - was smeared with blood.
She moved closer.
Her mother failed to lift her head at the sound of her approaching. Lena called out to her, but she didn't respond.
She crouched in front of her and reached out to tip her head back, but froze.
Swallowed. Her hand, suspended in the air, was caked in dried blood.
She looked down at herself in horror. The shirt she was wearing was old. She wore it days ago, when that tourist came by, only now it was covered with blood.
She reached out again, and pushed her mother's head back. It lolled, thumping against the wall behind her.
The face that met Lena terrified her.
Ashy. Her eyes were blank despite being open, no recognition flashing in her eyes as she stared at her.
Dead.
Lena knew without checking for a pulse, or listening for breaths.
Her mother was dead.
Her entire family was gone.
She sucked in a deep breath-
Bad decision.
Something potent overwhelmed her senses. A deviously delicious scent which toyed with her. Saliva flooded her mouth in anticipation, and her gums ached. Her gaze snapped to the dark red pool of blood on the floor, and the strangest and most sickening urge came over her.
No.
No, what was wrong with her? Oh, God, what was wrong with her?
She scrambled back, away from the blood. As far away as she could get in the small room.
It was her. She killed them to drink-
Oh, God.
She pressed her hands against her mouth firmly. She murdered her mother, her little brothers.
She hurt them.
She looked towards them once more. Noted with disgust the rips in their flesh, the dark blood coating their skin. Her throat ached, though the burn was nowhere near as awful as the fire which had ravaged her insides.
That man. This was all his fault.
He attacked her - bit her and drank her blood - just like she had done. He stopped short of killing her, but she hadn't. She didn't know how. There was no doubt in her mind about that. There was no way she would have done any of this voluntarily. Something primal inside her dictated her behaviour, killed her family, and that man was the one to awaken it.
"What have you done?"
She shook her head. She had to leave. She had to get out of here, now, before somebody found the-
Her family.
She jumped up from the floor, eyes stinging though no tears fell, and sprinted upstairs to her bedroom.
short chapter but i appreciate u reading! have a nice day :)