The door buzzer startled me from my thoughts. Who could it be? With a mix of curiosity and apprehension, I opened the door. To my surprise, it was Owen. He stood there, hesitant but resolute. He had come back. But why?
"Can I come in?" Owen asked, his voice almost a whisper. I nodded, still trying to process his presence. "You have to say it," he added with a faint smile. I couldn't help but chuckle softly. Funny, very funny, my love. "You can come in," I said. He stepped inside, and I closed the door behind him. My apartment was a mess, cluttered with trinkets and old memories. Owen glanced around, his eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and concern.
"Are you a vampire?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly. I had expected this question, but it still felt surreal. "I need blood to live," I replied, my tone flat. It was the simplest way to explain it. I didn't want to go into the gruesome details of my existence. Most of the time I wouldn't eat unless I had too, but sometimes- ok MOST of the time I took joy in killing people. But it kept me full. I rarely felt guilty, but there were a few times when I was just sitting there, and then it would hit me like a truck.
"But how old are you, really?" Owen pressed, his eyes searching mine for answers. "Twelve. But I've been twelve for a very long time," I told him. The weight of those words hung in the air. I had been stuck in this eternal youth, a curse that made me feel ancient and weary despite my appearance. He noticed Thomas's absence and asked, "Where's your dad?" I sighed, realizing I hadn't explained everything to him. "He wasn't my dad," I said quietly. Owen's brow furrowed in confusion. "Just my guardian," I added, hoping to clarify. He walked over to the table, examining the assortment of trinkets I had collected over the years. "What's all this?" he asked, picking up a puzzle piece. "I like puzzles," I said simply. It was a way to keep my mind occupied, to stave off the loneliness and monotony of my existence. He saw a photo. An old photo from the late 70s. It was a photo of Me and Bon. "What's this?" He asked me. "It's a picture of Me and Bon," I told him. He looked confused. "Bon? Like…Bonnie?" Owen asked. I giggled but was still confused. "No, who's Bonnie?" I asked him. "A character From uh… Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, ever been there?" He asked me. I shook my head. "No. I haven't. Maybe one evening. Bon is from a place called Bon's Burgers. It's not open anymore." I said sadly.
He smiled and put the photo down, but then he found a photo I really wish he hadn't. He found a Photo of me and Thomas, back when Thomas was younger. I had forgotten when we took this, was it the 30s? Maybe 20s? I don't know. He shot a look at me. I can't tell if it was disappointment or concern. Maybe even anger.
He put the photo down. I think it made him uncomfortable. "I want to go now." He told me. But. No. You're not leaving. Not yet. I didn't let him leave, I stood in front of the door. "I want to go. Are you going to let me?" he asked me. No. I don't want to go yet. I didn't say anything. Just stared at him. I knew I possibly freaked him out but, I didn't care. He's not leaving me. Not now. Not after everything. He seemed.. Tired. Agitated. "What are you gonna do to me?" He asked, his voice filled with tension. I didn't really know what I was going to do. I just didn't want him to leave. But after he said that.. I felt something break. I moved out of the way as he left. "I told you we couldn't be friends," I said to him. But he didn't hear me. He just left, slamming the door behind him. …Why did I say that? I still care for him. I walked back to the kitchen and picked up the photo of Thomas. The more I looked at it, the angrier I got. So.. I ripped it up and threw it away. I shouldn't have, but I was in a bad headspace. I tried tapping to Owen, but he didn't reply. Maybe sleeping, or he was just..ignoring me. Please don't be the latter…
Please
Please
Please
Please
Please
The rest of the evening was a blur of sadness. I couldn't focus on anything. Books, puzzles, drawings—none of them held my interest. All I could think about was Owen. I wanted him to be here with me, to reassure me that everything would be okay. Desperation drove me to fly over to his apartment. I watched him sleep for a while, taking solace in the sight of his peaceful face. It wasn't ideal, but it would have to do for now.
As the first light of dawn crept through the curtains, I reluctantly returned to my apartment. I prayed silently for Owen's forgiveness.
Tomorrow is another day.