“Mama, Papa!” Dante cried watching me from across the table and another clap of thunder boomed and clashed shinning it’s brightness into our candle lit home and I knew Dante was looking up into the ceiling fearful.
Papa spoke, “What happened?” I heard him closer to me.
“Nothing is wrong with him,” Mama said, “he decided to drink milk,” Her tone was cold, impassive and showing no sympathy.
Papa sighed picking me up, “What do we do now?”
“Take him to our room and I’ll deal with him. You…” Mama said to Dante. “Bed now,” she ordered and I heard the chair scrapping along the floor as obeyed his orders.
“Papa,” I whined as he walked down the hall, “My tummy really hurts,”
“Sé exactamente de edad, mamá va a hacer major.” Papa reassured me that mama was going make me feel better and reaching their bedroom mama was already there waiting.
“I should let you suffer through this and maybe then you’ll know next time to listen to me when I speak.”
Papa carefully laid me on the bed and I doubled over with the aching that seemed to transform into a more intense pain. I cried for mama as my stomach tightened with displeasure, fire blazed down my sides and torching my insides with acid. My chest felt heavy, something was coming up, it burned, it hurt and it kept pushing up through my throat and I puked out the acid; yet the fire and cramping spasms of pain still remained.
“Mama,” I griped trying to look up.
Papa replied, “I think that’s enough suffering.”
“Layla, Give him blood.” Papa demanded.
“He won’t learn if I heal him whenever he eats foods he shouldn’t be eating,”
“Give Marquis blood, I don’t want to see him like this anymore!”
“Fine, extend your hand out.” Mama parried, “He needs your blood if he’ll heal properly.” I sensed a bit of jocularity in her voice.
I heard papa grunt and in that same couple seconds mama had me, holding me within her arms and against her bosoms. The wooden boards at the windows rattled and mama propped my head so I could taste papa’s blood. Lightening cracked as my fangs extended with the delicate smell and I licked papa’s wrist tasting the blood, already separating the difference between human and animal blood. Automatically understanding the smell is more delicious, more pure, more yummy. I licked his wrist again, again and again. The taste is richer and more satisfying. The pain in my stomach gradually eased away and I clutched to papa’s hand sinking my teeth into his wrists. I like this and I want more…
“Marquis that’s enough!” Papa grunted his voice strained.
I shook my head and I drank.
Why haven’t I had human blood before?
“Marquis sweetie stop,” mama whispered in my ear, her voice still calm and her fingers brushing through my hair. I ignored her and Papa fell to his knees trying to pull his wrist away. I gripped tighter unto him, I don’t want this taste to go away and I want every single last drop.
“Do something!” I heard papa say.
Stop now, Marquis do you hear me! Mama spoke to me through our minds.
Mama please, papa taste delicious.
Baby I know, another time and another person. You’re going to kill your father if you don’t stop!
I shook my head refusing to let go and I kept drinking. Mama kept talking to me through our minds and I felt papa going weak, felt the beating of his heart dawdling, his life was slipping away and I couldn’t stop- I didn’t want to stop. Something through the corner of my eye caught my attention, I looked up and I saw him, my twin, Dante starring. Why is he watching? Dante licked his lips baring fangs. Why does he have fangs?
My twin noticing that I saw him, covered his mouth and backed out the door and I felt a hard wave of something crash into my mind. My head started pounding, I released papa holding unto my head- I was convinced my head was going to explode.
“Mama…” I cried. I couldn’t see anything and I was dizzy. My vision was coming and going, everything was blurry, nails were being hammered in my head and a loud screeching noise was echoing.
I felt mama’s arms enfold around me firmly.
“It’s ok baby,” she held me tightly and ignoring my thrashing. “I got you,” She rocked me back and forth as the pounding ceased and my vision returned.
“You wouldn’t let go,” she said holding me close against her chest, “I had to baby, please forgive me.” Mama continued rocking and soothing me with her humming. My head was still hurting mildly when papa got up and left, his hand dripping blood. A part of me wanted to follow him and continue where I left off. I licked around my lips where there was still blood.