A Light Not His Own

#0: Introspection

A man feebly crawled across the sidewalk, his own blood leaving a streaking trail behind him. The van behind him laid overturned on its side, but he didn't dare look back. Looking back would only hurt his chances of slipping away.

The man raised his black and red eyes from the pavement. He locked onto a skull laying by his hand. It was unnatural, with elongated canines more at place on a tiger than a man.

"You were warned."

A white hand reaches out for the collar of the man's dress shirt, flipping him over. The man's red eyes widened in fear. The hand wrapped tightly around his throat before pulling him up. He began to hyperventilate, showcasing his own fang-like teeth.

"You saw the signs, and you ignored them. I'm not one to be ignored."

●●●●●●●●●●●●●

A young man sat on a large lounge chair. He fiddled with a small pendant; a pearlescent white cresent moon. Despite its simplicity it seemed to hold all his focus. Nothing else was so enrapturing, nothing else could seem so intriguing.

"Y/N."

His eyes raise to the woman seated not far from him. She sat conservatively in her suit, hair pulled back in a tight bun with clipboard in hand. The emerald eyes behind her glasses showed her waning patience with his lack of attentiveness.

"Yes, Dr. Nordstrom?"

"We're supposed to be talking about your family." The woman reminds with a hint of annoyance.

That was where they were. Now he remembered. Y/N's finger traced over the pendant one more time. He let out a huff, responding almost robotically.

"My dad was Moon Knight back in the nineties. My mom was a vampire. Sounds pretty simple to me."

"That's odd." Dr. Nordstrom interjects, checking through her notes. "It says Moon Knight hunted vampires. Isn't settling down with one a little contradictory?"

"My grandfather was a rabbi. My father was a war criminal who beat up people in dark alleys because a moon god told him to. My mother was a vampire of Egyptian heritage. According to the Bible, they owned the Jews as slaves. I'm a spoiled rich kid with no one to spoil him. My life is full of contradictions." Y/N practically groans.

Dr. Nordstrom clicked her pen, the utensil at the ready. "And your vampiric heritage doesn't pose any challenges?" She takes stock of her sunlit office with its large array of windows. "You seem rather unaffected."

The teen scratches under his chin. "I'm only half vampire. Light doesn't mess with me unless there's a lot of it. Headaches and eye pains, that's about it."

"And the need for blood?" The doctor asks without missing a beat. It was as if she had been waiting for an opportunity to find an answer.

Y/N shifts in his seat. His tongue traces over one of his fangs. His finger stops its tracing movements on his pendant.

"I manage...."

Dr. Nordstrom stayed still, the only movement of her person being her finger dragging up and down the side of her pen. There was obviously more to the answer, but being a psychiatrist meant asking the right questions the right way. Being a good psychiatrist meant knowing when to ask.