Dealing With A Vampire

6.

I wanted to say thank you for all the reads, comments, votes. My heart is so full every time I see that even one person has read my story. Now, let's get back to the possessive vampires and see what I have in store for Mila this time 🤫

---

My drive home is chaotic. Gasping, crying, gripping the steering wheel, I struggle to contain my emotions. If I don't calm down, I'll end up getting pulled over while covered in blood. Never a good look. The last thing I needed was someone questioning me, let alone looking into what had happened at The Garage tonight.

Racing into the parking lot behind my building, I haul my car to a fast and crooked stop in my assigned spot. I rip my purse from the passenger seat, sprinting from my car into the safety of my apartment building until I make it home. It's not until my apartment door is deadbolted with the chain in place that I release a guttural cry from my chest.

I mourn the relationship I've lost, the physical abuse I've endured tonight, and lastly my freedom. My mind becomes overwhelmed by the possibility someone is after me, obsessed with the need for my blood as payment—a death for a death. I ruminate on the fact that vampires are real and my heart begins to beat out of sync with itself. My breathing is so panicked and fast, with everything finally hitting me now, and I begin to hyperventilate.

My ears ring as the world around me moves faster, faster, faster. The lights are too bright, and I can hear myself moaning and crying. The noise won't stop, and there are hands, his hands, around my throat again, squeezing so tight that I can't breathe. My back hits my front door, sliding my way down until I hit the floor. Once upon a time I loved his hands more than anything, loved the way they touched and held me.

Dillon. Vampire. Murderer.

The love of my life had killed six women and a vampire, and the thought of that was strangling me. The man I thought just days ago that I would spend the rest of my life with. Anxiety races through my blood and begins closing my airway. Unless I can figure out how to get a grip on the situation, to shut my brain off and calm it down, I'm going to pass out.

Sliding my knees up to my chest, I place my head in the space between them. I squeeze my eyes so tightly that they begin to burn, and I can feel the makeup that once decorated them smearing and settling into lines.

I should've called Maeve, at least for her to meet me, but I didn't want to put this burden on her. Still in college, she didn't deserve to worry about her older sister, or my ex-boyfriend whose reckless behavior put my life on the line.

Whether intentional or not, Dillon had done something unforgivable. This wasn't something I could forgive.

A harsh knock shakes the door against my back, snapping me out of the spiral that I was beginning to fall into. I stand frantically, pressing my eye up to the peephole. My sister's beautiful, angry gaze meets me from the other side of the glass and my body instantly relieves. Without thinking of my blood-stained clothes, the sweatshirt I'm wearing, or my tear-stained face, I rip the locks open and pull my sister into a bruising hug.

"God, Maeve, I'm so glad that you're here," I whisper into her shoulder. Her hair is undone, smothering my face in long waves. She smells like our home and everything purse. I reek of blood and sweat.

She rests her hands on my shoulders and firmly pushes me away from her. My face drops. "Mila, what is in your hair... is that blood—Mila!"

My sister gasps dramatically as her eyes take in the full scene. Viewing the blood in my hair, crusted along the side of my neck, she grabs my cheeks with both hands and observes the tear tracks. I can see how her mind begins to race, panicking at what she sees marking my body.