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22:42PM
THURSDAY
SANTA CARLA
VAMPIRE, GOT IT.
The flesh that protects my retina snaps open and for a brief moment, I forget where I am. The room is dim, so dim that I can barely see but lightly lit enough that I can still make out the half-circle window that frames the main wall of the attic room. The dust is no longer dancing in the air; the sun seems as if it disappeared long ago under the horizon and the silence that coats the house makes me uneasy. It's as if time has stopped. There is no aching of wood, no wind that whistles against its aged walls, and when I narrow my senses down to just my ears, I hear no sound of life. How long have I been asleep? It's as if I had been gone to the world.
Something about the stillness of the house makes me hold my breath; my eyes stare into the darkness a little longer and my skin ripples with goosebumps. I find the courage to sit up, though it's slow and momentarily thought through. I hear nothing but the halt of my own breathing, though deep down I am aware that something isn't quite right. My mouth is dry and I bite down into my tongue; it sticks to the roof of my mouth before I remove it. I'm still left with nothing but the drought between my lips so I stand to my feet and find my way to the stairs through the darkness. My hands reach out before me, aiming for anything that may get in my way, or that I could fall into. I hadn't memorized where the light switch was earlier on, though it would be benefiting me right now if I had.
Once I find the very top of the staircase, I wiggle my toes over the edge to double-check that it's safe to proceed, and I grip onto the banisters on either side of the walls that protect the entrance. I make my way downwards and before I reach the very bottom and open the door, I realize that I was wrong about the house being completely silent. Somewhere down the hall, there is a song being played, one that is static and I instantly figure that it is coming from a radio. Again, I walk towards the second set of stairs, briefly noticing the sweet, bubbly smell in the air as I walked past where the music is coming from.
"I'm a lonely boy,"
"I ain't got a home."
Sam is singing in an almost exaggerated voice and I knit my brows together; he is obviously taking a bath. The perfumed smell that clings to the oxygen atoms around me carries the smell of the body wash he is using. When I reach the end of the stairs, there is only one light on. It's one that belongs to the kitchen, veiling over the island but not making the rest of the room visible to me. The light gets weaker the further it travels and I study the surrounding space. I am only interested in satisfying my thirst, so I aim for the sink; reaching over to the left where several drinking glasses are drying, I tip one upwards and place it under the tap. As soon as it is filled, I wrap my lips around the rim and swallow down the entire content. For a moment, I close my eyes and let out a sigh, the liquid is cold and runs down my warm, fleshy throat, hitting the right spot before I rinse the glass and place it back where it was.
My eyes land on the window above the sink, the darkness looks welcoming and I find myself making my way out of the kitchen and through the front door. The air hits me perfectly, running through my ashy blonde hair and up my nose. The smell is refreshing; I have come to realize that I rather enjoy Santa Carla during the night. It is nothing like new york, it's almost as if it is summer no matter what time of the day it is. A part of me feels as if I am intruding in this house, though if it were a problem, Lucy and he father would not have left me unattended, even if Sam and Michael are inside. I turn to the left and my ears perk at the sound of a slow squeak, almost like rust, and notice a two-seater swing blowing in the shallow wind. Instead of going inside and packing my things to leave, just like I'd love to do, I find myself sitting down on the pillows. The fabric is cold, though it calms me and I throw my head back. I could do with a cigarette.
When I stand, I'm greeted with a pleading shout and I freeze for a moment. Momentarily, I am confused, the house was silent previously, and this noise was sudden. The yells continue, though they are muffled from inside the walls of the house, so I make my way back through the door. Spontaneously, there is once again no noise. Almost as if what I heard didn't actually happen, though when I round the corner, I notice that the fridge door is open and a carton of milk is spoiled all over the wooden flooring. I stare down at it for just a moment, contemplating all of the possibilities, though my brain clicks into action when I realize something.
This is exactly how the beginning of a horror movie must feel.
There is another yell from up the stairs and it sounds as if it is Sam. Ignoring the spilled milk on the ground, and opening the refrigerator, I bolt to the opposite side of the kitchen and rummage through the draws for a knife. I pick the largest one and bend my knees, walking in a defense position towards the stairs. There is another yell, this time followed by words.
"Ahhh! Mum! He's coming!" Sam screams like a petrified child and I pick up my pace, pressing my body against the wall, "He's gonna kill me!"
"Sammie! Let me in!"- Someone else shouts back, and I halt for a moment, confused.
"Why should I, huh!?"
"Because I'm your brother, Sammie!" There is a brief silence before I realize that it is Michael who is speaking, "Please!"
Before I sprint over to Sam's bedroom door, there is rummaging and slamming; I burst through the door, knife held high above my head. Both boys are sitting, hugging on the bed, though the youngest is as pale as a ghost. Their heads snap in my direction, eyes straight on the weapon gripped tightly in my right hand before I speak up, "What the hell was that about?"
"Michael's a vampire." Sam is quick to respond, though his older brother is quick to shut him up.
I look at him for a moment, "Yeah, and my hamster has wings."
"You have a hamster?" Sam questions, breathing heavily and I put the knife down from my defensive position.
"No."
"But he really is a vampire!" He yells, eyes widening as if he wants nothing more than for me to believe him, though I'm quick to assume he is trying to pull my leg.
"Right..." I chuckle and point the knife towards them both, sarcastically, "Vampire, got it."
