Soft morning light entered the plain, worn-out apartment. If I could call one-bedroom loft an apartment. The colour from the walls began to fade, leaving behind a dirty yellow. It was hard to tell where colour ended and mould began. Creaky carpets covered the floors until they met the cracked kitchen tiles. The only separate room was the small bathroom next to the kitchen.
Furniture was scarce: one brown sofa with pale worn-out edges, a narrow table with a metal chair, a rusty fridge and stow, and a couple of wooden cupboards.
The only new modern thing in the room was the sturdy queen-sized bed, covered with blankets and pillows. The hospital-type table was attached to the size, allowing the patient to eat on it without getting out. An IV pole stood over the bed; blue tubes surrounding it.
Lucia was awake. She sat in the bed, her laptop open on the table in front of her. She crossed her hands over her chest, above her very pregnant belly, and shot arrows at me.
When I first saw her, I envied the olive colour of her skin. Now, she looked too pale. As if someone turned saturation down. Her long dark hair was now thin and dry. So were her lips. And she was thin, too thin. Nothing of her curviness remained. Only the large, protruding belly. How accurate, I thought. The baby was eating her alive.
"Where the fuck have you been?" She spat, her big, brown eyes scanning me from head to toe, lingering on the leather jacket I didn't have on me when I left the apartment earlier tonight.
"At Dorian's." I took off my heels and walked barefoot to the fridge. "Are you cold?"
"Only always." She said. "It's 6AM. You left at 1AM."
"I stopped for a drink." I grunted while going through the contents of the fridge.
"You don't have that kind of money."
"We." I pulled the last remaining bag of blood from the fridge. "We don't have that kind of money."
"Did you talk to your father?"
I closed my eyes, unable to look at her. When I took her out of my brother's grabby arms, I promised she would be safe with me.
"They won't let me." I said through my teeth and walked to the sofa.
"What do you mean?" Lucia pushed herself slightly up and grunted. "Who won't let you? Lucien is on our side! And Libby should-"
"Dorian Darascu replaced me." I sipped the blood through a straw; the cold, watery substance tasted nothing like fresh blood.
Fucking hospital food.
"Excuse me?"
Lucia's teenage voice pissed me off. I usually tolerated it, but it proved too much tonight.
"You heard me."
"How can they replace you with Dorian?" Lucia raised her voice, and I didn't feel like reminding her she shouldn't get worked up. "He's not even part of your family."
I lifted the blood bag, "He's engaged to Libby."
"What the fuck?" She cursed. "Alright, alright. But he still could have let you talk to your dad. Did he? Where have you been? And whose jacket are you wearing?"
"Luce, will you stop acting like my mother?"
"Well, I might as well be your fucking mother, considering I'll die before you and I can do nothing but lie here while you go around and drink and have fun!"
My temples began to pound, "I wasn't-"
"I'm supposed to be out drinking and having fun!" Her voice quickly broke, her facade sliding like a veil, revealing that today was one of the bad days. "I'm fucking seventeen! You're supposed to take care of me, get the money and save me!"

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They Rise at Dusk (Book #1) ✔️
ParanormalRankings #1 in vampiremafia Two years ago, an Elder vampire's explosive reveal in Times Square sparked a civil war between vampire clans. Some wanted to remain in the shadows, while others longed for the world to discover the truth about vampires' t...