Deadly Thirst

September 5-Sita

It's been four days since Trixon left my life forever, since my soul was shattered. I haven't left my room to do anything, and I haven't fed at all. The last time I was in this room was when I was seven and Trixon was nine. The memory burns in my mind like an iron, but the pain tells me I'm still alive, still surviving. The hole in my chest is invisible, only something I can feel. I crawl on my knees to the mirror on my door. I look at the person in the mirror, and I wonder who it is. Stupidly, I remind myself that it's me, that it is me who looks like a ghost, that looks so haggard. I turn my back on the mirror and sit down on my old bed with hand stitched sheets that my mother, Elisabeth had made. Elisabeth Rose Ellisma. My father was Jonas Ross  Corveius Ellisma. Corveius is our clan name, so if someone asked what my lineage was, I'd say Sitrana Corveius  Ellisma. My mother was human, father pureblooded. He fed me his blood before he died, in turn making me a pureblood.

I stare at the ceiling and wonder why no one has changed anything in the house in the past 10 years, soon to be eleven, or even moved in. The case of my parents, who both died in this house, mom in the hallway by a wolf, and dad was killed by some slayers. It has since been closed. My mom's case was so brutal they wondered why I didn't stop it. It didn't matter how long we searched or how far we traveled, we never found who had killed her. I stand up and open my door. I glance out into the hallway, to the pictures hanging on the walls. A painful memory pulls me in, and I stumble as I look up again, through younger eyes, more innocent than I am now.

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My mom looks down at me with sad eyes, eyes that a mom shouldn't have. There is a fear in her eyes that I don't understand yet, something that scares her beyond her limits. I look over at my dad, the strong one in our family. There is a coldness to his features that doesn't go well with the ridges of his body. The scent of blood is too strong for me. I search everywhere, but I can't find the source of it. M mom walks up to me and pulls me into a soft hug. She whispers in my ear, "I'm sorry, Sita, but I can't stay any longer. I'm going to go somewhere special."

"Like Grandpa?" I ask. My grandfather had died of a heart attack last Halloween, the day we had come back from Brazil.

"Yes, like Grandpa," she murmurs. I know it kills her to let go of me and Dad, but I know that she will have fun in her special place. Trixon comes up the stairs, stumbling over words as he takes in our little group. He starts to turn away, but my mom puts her hand on his shoulder and whispers goodbye to him. I can see tears in Trixon's eye. He had been as close to her as I am, we were practically brother and sister. We used to do everything together, go to merchants, visit friends, go to the lake, and many other things. Once a friend had died because of us, we had drawn apart.

Trixon notices me watching him and meets my gaze. His eyes are limitless, deep, above all, knowing. I'm the first to look away and I turn back to face my Mom. Tears are streaking down her cheeks, and her face says that she won't be coming back, ever. I see someone standing behind her, a knife in hand. Everything slows down to nanoseconds, every movement registered. The unknown person plunges the knife deep into her spine, blade protruding from her belly. I run towards her attacker, and no one stops me. Dad is trying to keep Trixon from doing the same thing. I pause at the display case to grab a sword, but that's all. The attacker takes one look, at me, at my eyes, and lets go of my mom. I hold the sword tip level to my neck, both hands gripping the handle. The attacker has some sort of camouflage paint smeared all over their face, teeth bared like an animal. I take one look at the eyes and instantly know what I am facing. 

My mother's murderer is a werewolf, a rogue one at that. For some reason he had thought my mother was a vampire, or another pack member. I really hope it was the former because my mom had always told me to never trust hybrids, that they are uncontrollable and dangerous. The wolf's eyes are a violent yellow tinged with red. A growl forces its way through its mouth, snout, and my Dad finally realizes what's going on because he leaves Trixon to stand in front of me.