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Authors: Lynette Ferreira
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drive away
from the city and later Ethan turns off the highway and onto a
rural road. We do not speak and I doubt I would be able to hold
down a logical conversation. I do relax a little, because I know
not long from now I can feed my needy monster.
I can see across the country, the flat
nothingness toward the lights of the city on the horizon. A moment
later Ethan turns into a neglected driveway and we bounce over the
potholes. He drives to the dilapidated farmhouse and stops in front
of the front door.
I look at him puzzled , but not caring. I just want to get in
there and I want to drink. I open my door and get out of the car at
the same time as Ethan. He walks toward me in front of the car and
smiling, he softly takes my arm.
We walk in through the front door, which
is weird. A dim thought at the back of my mind warns me that
something is not right, but it is hazy. The only thing on my mind
in vibrant, lumo colors is my need to feed. He leads me toward the
basement and we walk down the stairs silently. When we are down in
the basement, Ethan’s hand around my arm suddenly tightens and with
a snarl, he shoves me forward. This is unexpected and I stumble
ahead.
As I turn back toward him, the question on my
lips, I hear him slam the heavy metal door closed between us and I
hear a bolt slide into a lock.
Bewildered I look around me and wonder what
on earth is happening. What is Ethan doing? I bang on the door
frantically, screaming his name.
He does not reply and I hear him running
back up the stairs. After what feels like eternity, I turn away
from the door and walk into the room. It is unfurnished, so I sink
down onto the floor in the back corner of the dark room. My stomach
aches and I fold my arms over it tightly. I trusted Ethan
impeccably, and because my hunger was so overwhelming, I could not
think of anything else. Briefly, I consider that I have known him
for so long, who could have foreseen this. I cannot even wonder why
he is doing this to me, because I feel my body start to shake. It
is not a shiver or a tremble, but an internal quiver.
I hear him coming down the stairs and I
stand up hurriedly. I rush to the door.
He yells from the other side, “Step back,
Susanna. I am serious!”
He is much older than I am and thus much
stronger, but I am sure I could overwhelm him. I sense him waiting
at the door listening for any sounds from inside of the room and
then he slides open a little hatch in the door. He pushes a tray
through the hatch slowly and I notice a glass balanced on the tray.
It is a Bloody Vladimir - our interpretation of a Bloody
Mary.
I move toward it, the smell of the blood in
the drink is pungent. I lift the glass toward my mouth and I feel
the glass clink against my incisors. I swallow fast and
eagerly.
I put the empty glass back onto the tray and
after he pulls the tray back through the hatch, he closes it.
I ask desperately, “Ethan, what games are you
playing?”
“ You and your happy little family are
working on my nerves.” I shake my head disbelievingly, while he
continues, “I want what Shayne has and even if I have to kill you
one by one, I will get it.”
Flabbergasted I struggle to stifle an
absurd laugh. “Shayne and Amanda will look for me and you know they
will find me.” I scream, “They will kill you!”
He laughs sadistically. “I am ready and they
will not live to tell the tale. You have treated me with disdain
long enough, as if I am beneath your standing. I will now show you
who the better of the two of us are and I am sick of my community
looking down upon me.”
I hear him walk away.
There are no windows in the dark, dank room
and I calculate the day by the amount of times a glass of blood is
shoved through the hatch in the door – breakfast, lunch and
supper.
I cannot be sure, but I imagine that it has
been a week and I can hear a commotion coming from upstairs. I hear
furniture scraping across the floor. Suddenly a thud reverberates
through the house
from the city and later Ethan turns off the highway and onto a
rural road. We do not speak and I doubt I would be able to hold
down a logical conversation. I do relax a little, because I know
not long from now I can feed my needy monster.
I can see across the country, the flat
nothingness toward the lights of the city on the horizon. A moment
later Ethan turns into a neglected driveway and we bounce over the
potholes. He drives to the dilapidated farmhouse and stops in front
of the front door.
I look at him puzzled , but not caring. I just want to get in
there and I want to drink. I open my door and get out of the car at
the same time as Ethan. He walks toward me in front of the car and
smiling, he softly takes my arm.
We walk in through the front door, which
is weird. A dim thought at the back of my mind warns me that
something is not right, but it is hazy. The only thing on my mind
in vibrant, lumo colors is my need to feed. He leads me toward the
basement and we walk down the stairs silently. When we are down in
the basement, Ethan’s hand around my arm suddenly tightens and with
a snarl, he shoves me forward. This is unexpected and I stumble
ahead.
As I turn back toward him, the question on my
lips, I hear him slam the heavy metal door closed between us and I
hear a bolt slide into a lock.
Bewildered I look around me and wonder what
on earth is happening. What is Ethan doing? I bang on the door
frantically, screaming his name.
He does not reply and I hear him running
back up the stairs. After what feels like eternity, I turn away
from the door and walk into the room. It is unfurnished, so I sink
down onto the floor in the back corner of the dark room. My stomach
aches and I fold my arms over it tightly. I trusted Ethan
impeccably, and because my hunger was so overwhelming, I could not
think of anything else. Briefly, I consider that I have known him
for so long, who could have foreseen this. I cannot even wonder why
he is doing this to me, because I feel my body start to shake. It
is not a shiver or a tremble, but an internal quiver.
I hear him coming down the stairs and I
stand up hurriedly. I rush to the door.
He yells from the other side, “Step back,
Susanna. I am serious!”
He is much older than I am and thus much
stronger, but I am sure I could overwhelm him. I sense him waiting
at the door listening for any sounds from inside of the room and
then he slides open a little hatch in the door. He pushes a tray
through the hatch slowly and I notice a glass balanced on the tray.
It is a Bloody Vladimir - our interpretation of a Bloody
Mary.
I move toward it, the smell of the blood in
the drink is pungent. I lift the glass toward my mouth and I feel
the glass clink against my incisors. I swallow fast and
eagerly.
I put the empty glass back onto the tray and
after he pulls the tray back through the hatch, he closes it.
I ask desperately, “Ethan, what games are you
playing?”
“ You and your happy little family are
working on my nerves.” I shake my head disbelievingly, while he
continues, “I want what Shayne has and even if I have to kill you
one by one, I will get it.”
Flabbergasted I struggle to stifle an
absurd laugh. “Shayne and Amanda will look for me and you know they
will find me.” I scream, “They will kill you!”
He laughs sadistically. “I am ready and they
will not live to tell the tale. You have treated me with disdain
long enough, as if I am beneath your standing. I will now show you
who the better of the two of us are and I am sick of my community
looking down upon me.”
I hear him walk away.
There are no windows in the dark, dank room
and I calculate the day by the amount of times a glass of blood is
shoved through the hatch in the door – breakfast, lunch and
supper.
I cannot be sure, but I imagine that it has
been a week and I can hear a commotion coming from upstairs. I hear
furniture scraping across the floor. Suddenly a thud reverberates
through the house
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