Vampire Bride

Chapter 2: Part ONE

 Charlie pictured

Charlie

An ever growing lump in my throat blocks any words that I would want to speak. Yet, after several swallows the blockage doesn't seem to waver, making my voice croak. "Can I help you?" The dark entryway and living room only make me more terrified. All this large open space is causing my imagination to run wild, wondering what's hiding in those dark corners even though I know the trespasser is outside.

I always considered myself a strong independent woman who would never be considered one of those stupid girls found in horror films who runs upstairs, putting themselves into a spot they're unable to get out of. However, asking a stranger who's on my doorstep in the extremely early hours of the morning—who I think is stalking me—if I can help him is falling right into the role of that oblivious girl. All I need now is for him to pound his hands on the door that is mere inches away from my face to scare the wits out of me even more.

His deep, smooth voice shatters the image of a knife slicing through the wooden divider from my thoughts. "Charlie, I was wondering if we could talk. I have something very interesting to tell you." The calmness in his words is completely opposite to the manic frenzy of my nerves.

"How do you know my name?" Without warning my vision begins to get clouded with blackness as fear boils up. Like hell I'm going to believe that 'I'm not going to hurt you' malarkey. The air that was starting to feel warm from fear suddenly gets icy. I can't stand near the door any longer. I can't be so close to him intentionally.

Taking a few large steps backward only to retake those very steps back to the door, I wait for him to reply. The outrageous thing is that I find myself anxious as to what ludicrous words he's going to say next.

"I have exceptionally well hearing. You recognize me from the club, right?"

"Yes." Too many emotions become overwhelming. People with all these emotions at once break and when no response is spoken, I crumble.

Taking a chance to look through the peephole once more with prayers chanting inside my head that he's gone due to the silence are crushed when I line my eyeball up to the small round glass peephole. His face nearly fills the entire view as he casually waits. Stumbling away from the door, I almost crash to the ground. A corner from the console table in the entryway jabs me in the back, forcing a grunt of pain to gush out from between my lips. With all this fear pumping large amounts of adrenaline into my veins, the pain lacks in significance.

"Charlie? Charlie, are you okay? I heard a crash...Charlie?" Concern thickens his voice.

Trying to gather as much of my composure as possible, I flatten my sleep shirt and pat my hair as if someone were watching. Embarrassment makes my cheeks flush. "Why don't you just leave and come back in the morning?" I holler at the door that's still several feet away from me.

"I can't. I mean I could, but mornings really don't work for me. I'm not going to hurt you if that's what you're implying. Take a look one more time. No weapons, my hands raised in surrender. I just wanted to talk to you for once, that's all."

One foot gradually follows the other, leading me to the front door. For some reason, no matter how fearful of him and beyond spooked that he mysteriously shows up on my doorstep, needing to look at him is at the top of my list. Needing to physically see him in surrender on my porch seems comical, almost masking the impending doom I felt earlier.

With shaky hands holding my body close to the door, but without touching it, I view him just like he stated. Hands raised in the air, no weapons in sight, and from the look of his T-shirt and jeans there's not a lot of room to hide a weapon anyways. But, my eyes are drawn to his right hand, which clenches my shoes that I dropped in the parking lot. It wasn't my imagination, he really was there...lingering. He waves ever so slightly and smiles, taking a few extra steps backward, allowing his entire body to be seen in the small opening.