November 20th, 2014, Thanksgiving Day

There was so much to do I shouldn't have bothered to think about reaching out to Al. When I ran home like the little girl Melissa accused me of being, I went to my room and locked myself inside to cry into a pillow. My phone had gone off once, but it was a text from Ty that I didn't bother to open. Instead, my phone was turned off and thrown into a corner without concern or fear of what alerts I'd miss. The next morning would be the first in God knew how long that I would wake up and continue to ignore the cellular device that was always within reach. Part of me wondered if Al had reached out to explain himself, but the other part of me saw flashes of the possible outcome of yesterday's unfortunate event.

In my mind, I saw Melissa and Al-Captain Wesker argue, jabbing fingers and screaming at each other, but then they quieted when they remembered they were adults. The exes then stood in awkward silence before he apologized for whatever had led to the dissolution of their relationship, and she would admit she was wrong for only showing up now. Wesker told her, "She was there and wouldn't go away. I was alone, but she was a shoulder to lean on."

Melissa said, "Baby, I'll always be here for you. Let's forget about this. Let's forget about her." So, they did. Finally, he sat down and enjoyed dinner with someone who drank wine. In fact, Melissa drank so much wine that she shouldn't drive home.

He offered to be a gentleman and allowed her to sleep in the bedroom I'd barely gotten to take in.

Before he could leave, she asked him to stay with her. The request dictated thought, but the sight of her half-naked in his bed, as she'd appeared so many times before, captivated him with nostalgia.

At first, Wesker would be chaste, keeping to his side of the bed. Then he'd feel her cozy up against his body. An arm around Melissa's waist would lead to his fingers running over her skin. One innocent touch would lead to another until they were as passionate as we had been downstairs on his couch, but this time, childish fears wouldn't stop him. They would pant, rut, and exchange declarations of love and remorse. "I need you's" would fill the room as Wesker released himself into her, Melissa, and he forgot about the college student with too many boundaries.

Fucking stop! I shouted in my head. It became an internal struggle not to pick up the lamp on the nightstand and throw it at the wall. Madness now threatened to reach up through the floor to pull me down, but then I heard a knock.

"Claire!" my mother yelled from the other side of the bedroom door.

I swallowed a lump I didn't know had formed in my throat. "Yes?"

"The turkey'll be ready in a few hours!"

"Okay!" The days leading up to Thanksgiving had been wasted in Applewood. I never helped with this holiday because I didn't cook. In the past, I had been present for the preparation and teasing of my mom. This year I was released from class and ran over to make out with my brother's captain instead of spending time… locked in my room. Had it been better or worse that I spent my time in an equally unproductive scenario? Perhaps I was just a child.

Suddenly, the temptation to check my phone had faded, and I hurried to shower and conceal my puffy, red eyes with makeup I barely touched. When I came downstairs, I was inexplicably dressed, casually as one does, for a feast held at home. Chris was already here, laughing with Dad. My brother preferred to pregame; a cut-off from Mom bore a little impact on his buzz when he did. Our family holidays were small; there was no embarrassment for the eldest Redfield child's behavior. Years ago, we buried our grandparents, and our parents were only children. The Burtons frequently floated the idea of merging our family celebrations due to Barry's closeness to Chris, but Mom never seemed excited at the thought of young children coming over. Moira was ok, but family events brought up traumas that were best discussed in a private forum.

Each time the eldest Burton girl referred to her father as Barry, all of us winced in unease. It was none of our business, but any attempt at recovery was always more awkward than the incident itself. It was best that we stayed to ourselves.

"Honey?" My mom could only be referring to me; you never wanted my sibling's help in the kitchen. "Could you get the pies from the oven?"

Wordlessly, I fulfilled the request, catching her attention. Perhaps I should have feigned illness.

"Claire are you okay?" she asked, coming around the kitchen island to get a better look at me.

Nodding fervently, I responded with, "Yeah, Mom. I'm fine."

Then she put her hands on her waist and glowered at me. "Were you out drinking last night?"

Dad and Chris had fallen silent.

After a few seconds of stillness, I couldn't help but laugh at how normal it was. I appreciated it so much that thanking her for taking off for the holidays would have ruined the moment. "I think Chris is going to drink enough for the both of us."

All my brother could do was grin.

Holidays were not for me. Holidays were meant for families that either loved or hated each other. There was a nucleus no matter what the sentiment was, but my family had no such thing. William invited me over for local events, but the major holidays were split between staying in town and visiting Annette's family. This year was Annette's family's year to invade and fawn over the growing Sherry. William offered an invitation for me to tag along, possibly out of concern for my well-being. Though a trip to Florida sounded nice, I declined.

Instead, I chose the company of my father, my half-brother, and… her. I had more questions. This time they demanded direct answers.

"I'm so glad I thought of this," Alex excitedly declared, directing the kitchen staff on where to go with the dishes of food he claimed to have selected. "We don't even need to eat it, but the holidays just bring something out in me! Yet my brother seems to have had his turkey early this year!"

Shamefully, I turned my gaze to the floor as I attempted to make sense of the revelations from last night. I would never die of natural causes. I would sustain myself on human blood. The word was so ridiculous I couldn't bring myself to say it. The word Isabella used, "Ama," sounded less theatrical. Last night I lost my composure and did something I wouldn't have done if their claims had been untrue.

"It's not your fault," Father had said. "I never liked that Melissa woman. She was no good for you. This is her fault."

At some point, I tried to rationalize it away with science, but my father and brother had to concede that no mental gymnastics could do so. Medically, they had all been stumped. Now they just lived with it. Live they did.

"How much do I need to survive?" I'd asked almost miserably. What was I reduced to if my life depended on such a horrid necessity?

"You can get by on one every two weeks," Alex advised.

With a condescending snort, Father added, "If you can't stand to hunt on your own, Dr. Brown will bring you blood from the labs."

"Maybe it's for the best," Alex mentioned. "If he can't control himself, he could eat a junkie!"

Father laughed as he reminisced. "Who doesn't remember the first time they made that mistake?"

I shook away their laughter as they recalled past events together and pulled out my phone to see several Thanksgiving texts from my team. Rather than respond in the same manner, I sent a group message to remind them I would return to work in December. Then I checked my call log, looking for one name. Claire hadn't reached out. I couldn't call her after what happened at the penthouse, but I thought perhaps she'd at least tell me to go fuck myself. My priorities were different now; until I had a satisfying conversation with my fucked up "family" I couldn't bring her back into my world.

"Why are we doing this?" Isabella's voice managed to cut through the room, causing the laughter from my father and brother to cease.

"This is what families do!" Father exclaimed. I'd never seen him so happy until last night. Hell, I'd never seen him that young until last night. Many firsts occurred. "Two generations of Spencers stand here in the estate I built for us!"

"That Trevor built, but his family's still here somewhere in the walls! Keep going!" Alex blurted out. Was he drunk?

The reinvigorated Spencer continued with so much energy that I feared he'd jump onto the table to deliver his speech. "I finally have both of my boys here with me! Together, we are sharing incredible power earned from both wealth and what was bestowed upon us by none other than this magnificent creature!" He pointed to Isabella who seemed unimpressed by his proclamations. "We are eternally young! We are all powerful! We are the apex of humankind!"

Something metal clattered to the floor, and we all looked to see Isabella staring angrily between the three of us. "Hoc est hominibus."

The black-haired Spencer walked toward the irritated woman. "Come now, Albert doesn't speak real Latin." When she did not give him a response, he added, "I'm sorry. Humans have nothing to do with what we are. I only want us to spend time together as a family. Alex has been gone for so long, and you for even longer. Now, Albert is here with us, and it feels complete."

Then, she turned her head slowly to look at me. "But you are not happy."

Spencer began to offer, "I promise, it's not you-"

"I am talking to Albert," Isabella cut him off, seemingly stunning my father and brother into a corner on the other side of the room. The staff continued to work around us, pretending not to hear a word spoken between us. "This was not supposed to happen to you, but you are here now. With us. However, you are not the same as me." Her brow raised as she thoughtfully added, "You are not the same as Alex. I sired your father, who sired you. If this life is misery for you, it can be easily ended." The gaze she delivered was unwavering, but I could also see hurt behind her stare. To her, this was a gift.

"I'm sorry to have offended you," I yielded, not knowing why.

Rather than continue to focus on me, her gaze turned to Father, who was still quiet as a church mouse. "It is not your fault." Suddenly her composure softened. "This holiday brings out the worst in me. I can remember what it was really about, and human food doesn't help. It makes me so hungry." At that moment, a female member of the waitstaff stepped between us, and Isabella abruptly grabbed the woman.

A familiar and deafening hum overpowered the sound of the screams. In my peripheral, I saw Alex and Spencer rush to the other members of the staff with inhuman speed. Before long, I had been caught amid a literal bloodbath.

"Okay. Dad's a pilot and I was in the Air Force. Mom's a plastic surgeon," Chris trailed off as he stared at me hopefully. Though my brother had been discharged for insubordination, he was proud that he'd somewhat followed in Dad's footsteps. There was no doubt in my mind that I wanted to make my mother proud and go the route of medicine, but I was still deciding. Maybe this was the sign I needed.

"You know what?" I began strongly. "I think I might do it."

"Yes!" Chris hissed as he pumped his fist.

"Not the plastic surgery, but I'm pretty sure I'm acing this Bio class."

My mother couldn't have looked prouder, and Dad just smiled as he reached for his third roll.

"Another thing," Mom began with a mouthful of dressing. "Where is Ty?"

"Maybe he's with his family," I offered. I'd hoped that would be the last of that conversation, but it was too much to ask for.

Seeming disturbed by the sudden absence of my friend with benefits, my mom threw her arms out in disbelief. "You two were thick as thieves. I couldn't turn a corner without you telling me you were hanging out with him, Amanda, and Dawson." As if struck by lightning, she perked up. "Are Amanda and Dawson still together?"

Chris's grin couldn't have been bigger. His humor was not from Mom questioning me over Ty. He was amused because Mom was so engrossed in teen drama. "Yeah, Claire. What is going on with your circle?" he piled on spitefully.

"I hate you," I mouthed across the table. Once I felt Mom's stare as she awaited answers, I sat up in preparation to fudge the truth. "Ty's cool, but why should I settle for the first guy I date in college?" Mentally, I had to remind myself to replace "bang" with "date." "And I would rather Amanda get over Dawson."

After a swallow of wine, Dad piped in, "You and Amanda have grown up together, so maybe you'll grow together in that aspect too. I don't think dating should be a priority for either of you."

My father's words made me hope Chris had forgotten about our conversation about an older friend. Not because I didn't want to have to lie more, but because I didn't want to think about Captain Wesker.

Moving on, Dad then asked, "So Chris, how's your Captain?"

Goddamnit.

"Still an asshole," he huffed as he speared a slice of turkey.

"What happened, honey?" Mom asked sweetly. Of course, she'd save her kid gloves for her hulking police officer son.

"We all sent him a message for Thanksgiving; he doesn't have anyone, at least not here. Instead of thanking us, he told us he'd be back next month. Then he said we need to have our shit together."

Incredulously, Mom asked, "He doesn't have anyone? After what happened, he's home alone for the holidays?"

Chris shrugged. "He had a girlfriend a few months back, but she was loca. This chick was talking to Frost behind his back. FROST!"

My eyes fell to my plate guiltily at the revelation that Melissa cheated on him with a subordinate.

"Joey is my guy, but I became guilty by association. We went out to a bar one night with Forest, and this chick showed up and just started pounding back shots like she was with the team. Forest and I thought it was weird, but then they disappeared together. I kept quiet; it was none of my business. Then it got awkward when she came to the station to see Cap. Forest holds water like a sieve, but he did his best. Hell, hath no fury like a scorned Captain Wesker. Next thing we know, a few weeks later, she's sprinting out crying.

Then she showed up at the bar with Joey every time we went out! Chick's insane. For the rest of our STARS careers, Forest and I can expect extra laps and reps."

This information bothered me; I refused to let Al offer an explanation. I assumed it would be an excuse. Now I was the ass. "Excuse me," I announced as I jogged upstairs to check my phone. There were so many Thanksgiving messages in my conversations, but no missed calls from AW. Now I would have to swallow my pride and be the first to break the ice. I shot him a text asking if we could talk.

Alex put on a Rolling Stones album as Father recounted an event from years ago. His eyes closed in ecstasy as he stroked the bloody cheek of a dead servant that lay against his chest. The words he spoke meant nothing to me. These tales of profundity were nothing more than noise to everyone else present. The high obtained from overfeeding had him in a stupor. The estate's Lord did not notice Isabella and Alex in a corner where the latter attempted to shove his hand down the front of his god's pants. This dining hall had never looked so unkempt. The body of the chef was sprawled over the table with hunks of flesh missing from his limbs, and his mouth was frozen in the middle of a silenced scream.

The sommelier sat in a chair at the head of the table with the neck of a wine bottle shoved so far down his throat that he'd suffered a less grisly fate than the others. Dinner might as well have been a snuff film based on the reactions of Spencer, Alex, and Isabella. Every employee present had come from overseas to gain a prestigious position as kitchen staff of Lord Ozwell Spencer. These people left their families behind and sacrificed their holidays to serve the very man that offered them up as a Thanksgiving feast.

I took in the sight of the blood-spattered wall before me. Luckily, my phone began to loudly vibrate in my pocket. Automatically, I looked at it to see a text message. I was happy that I did; it was Claire. "Claire," I breathed as soon as she answered.

For a moment, her end of the line was quiet. "Where are you?"

Shit. The album must have been audible on her end. "My Father and Alex wanted to meet for Thanksgiving," I admitted. In her eyes, I had been a liar; I couldn't pile more onto that. The truth could only be taken so far, though.

"I'm glad you aren't alone." This admission gave me relief; she cared. "I'm sorry I left that way."

Finally able to sit back, I responded, "I don't blame you."

"No, I should've let you speak. Chris told an interesting story about Melissa. Unprompted, of course."

"It's over," I assured.

Behind me, I heard voices grow loud, but as if the others knew I was on the phone, they quieted.

"Who's with you guys?" she asked with a slightly elevated tone. Isabella's voice must have reached the mic.

Knowing she would remain distrustful for a while, I firmly replied, "It's just me, Alex, Father, and his new liaison, Isabella."

Brushing off the presence of another woman, she asked, "Can we start over?"

Circumstances had changed; starting over was ideal. "We can." Whispers from behind prompted me to continue speaking to drown out the background noise. "When can I see you again?"

"How about this?" she asked, sounding more energetic than when she first called. "Finals are coming up, and I need to focus. So after, we can meet." Before I could inform her of her my impending return to work, she added, "I know you go back to work, but I'll be out of school in three weeks. I decided on a major. Unless you've got a biology degree hidden somewhere, I must ace this exam." Little lies had been littered so far and wide that they were becoming like land mines. In fact, I had a few biology degrees hidden somewhere.

"What if I need to see you?" I asked, closing my eyes.

"Have you ever used Facetime? You can see a lot of me." The insinuation was notable, but I would not press my luck given the preceding circumstances.

Press it.

Oddly, I followed the voice's instructions immediately. "Then I'll see you tonight."

Stunned into silence, she gave a single laugh. "See you tonight."

When I hung up, I almost had forgotten where I was. Then the sight of Alex standing before me reminded me. Pointing at the server that lay dying at my feet, he asked, "You gonna finish that one?"

Live drew quite the Thanksgiving crowd this year. The later it got, the more Amanda and I noticed there were more patrons older than twenty-one. We didn't mind; we were grateful that our parents didn't guilt us into staying home. If Al called, I was sure I'd feel my phone vibrating, but if I didn't, it was okay. He needed to sweat a little. As it drew nearer to ten o'clock, I didn't wait any longer; my parents were getting better about extending my curfew -if one could call it that- but I couldn't wait until twelve in the morning to go out. Those nights were reserved for sleepovers with my best friend.

Tonight's scene was pleasantly different from the usual theme. Most evenings at Live, we danced to the latest pop and hip-hop songs, but tonight ravers had crashed the establishment.

"I fucking love this!" the blonde screamed into my ear in delight. We ground our hips into each other before she spun around to pop her bottom against my groin.

Giggling, I grabbed her across her torso. It was amazing how my day pivoted so quickly. Something told me to look up, and I saw Isabella swinging her hair as she danced against the railing. "Look!"

Amanda's gaze followed my finger when I pointed in the club owner's direction. "Oh, my God! ISABELLA!"

Before I could chastise her for thinking the woman would hear her over the noise, Isabella ceased dancing instantly. Immediately her stare fell upon us, and she excitedly waved for us to join her.

In the dark of the dance floor, my companion found my hand and tugged me across the club eagerly. We wove through the tangle of partiers quickly, and we received no resistance from the guards this time when we reached the top of the stairs.

The host greeted us with a hug, her shift in personality quite notable. Perhaps before, she was unsure how to interact with American teenagers. Tonight, she matched Amanda's energy. "Happy Thanksgiving, my beautiful friends!"

"Happy Thanksgiving," I responded, with Amanda echoing me.

Luckily, Isabella was wearing pants tonight; Amanda was behaving quite frisky. The all-black attire she donned consisted of very low-cut destroyed jeans, seven-inch stilettos, and a twist-front halter. Since we didn't anticipate making it out on a holiday, my friend and I wore jeans and spaghetti-strap tanks.

"Come! Sit with me!" Isabella commanded, and she earned no defiance from us. As soon as her ass hit the seat, she poured shots of tequila for the three of us. "Salud!" We clinked our glasses, tapped them on the table, and threw back our shots. After following this ritual twice more, our host asked, "Do you know why we cheers? We do it to honor the gods!"

Already drunk, Amanda slurred, "That's so fucking awesome."

Good spirits were welcome, but I wondered aloud if Isabella had any family in town for the holidays. Tonight's rave scene certainly wasn't solely responsible for her chipper demeanor.

After she poured up three more shots, our raven-haired acquaintance informed us, "I celebrated with my business partner and his family. They are like family to me."

"The guy from last time?" Amanda inquired. Her reasons were likely due to an interest in the black-haired male's role in Isabella's life. Dawson's existence never ruled out the presence of potential suitors.

"No," she answered quickly. Too quickly.

I brushed off her rapid response as nothing. "Well, I'm glad you had someone to spend the day with." One more ritual of cheers later, we were dancing again. Tequila affected everyone at a different pace, and I seemed to be the outlier tonight. My friends could stand to swing their hair around wildly and writhe against one another without falling to the floor, but I collapsed onto the couch. Since I was here, I decided to check my phone. When I saw a message from AW, I hoped no one spotted the huge smile on my face.

"Can I see you?" he'd texted thirty minutes ago.

Playfully, I sent a smirking emoji. "It's dark in the club," I sent back next.

He must have been next to his phone because he responded quickly. "Need a ride?"

My eyes wandered back to Amanda and Isabella, and the former was hanging onto the smaller woman while they swayed to a slower song. "If Amanda can get a ride of her own, I'd like that."

"Where are you?"

"Live."

I bit my lip with anticipation as his text bubbles appeared, but the sound of men yelling snatched my attention away. There was a swarm of security guards rushing the VIP section, and I recognized the sound of Amanda screaming.

"Péthane, kakiá pórni!" an unfamiliar voice cried out in an unfamiliar language.

When I could finally make sense of the commotion, a man flew over the railing. As the figure plummeted below, I heard someone else scream. One person, two people, and then the entire club erupted in a panic. One of Isabella's guards grabbed Amanda while four others crowded her.

"Ma'am, come with me!" The security guard didn't wait for me to consent and instead grabbed me by the arm.

I should have been focusing on Amanda, but I fixated on Isabella; she stood there stone-faced. No trace of fear had touched her beautiful face, and nothing about her appeared ruffled from the furor. As I was pushed into a corner for safety, I returned to my text messages. Against my better judgment -the RPD would be here- I text Al, "Please come get me."