Vampire lore - Carmilla/First Kill

Chapter 43

Laura jolted awake, her heart racing as the memories of the previous night flooded back like a wave crashing on the shore. She had cried herself to sleep after her argument with Carmilla, the weight of their unresolved issues pressing heavily on her chest like a lead blanket. They were supposed to be a team—married and facing the world together—but now the argument had left a chasm that felt impossible to bridge. As her mind raced, she couldn't shake the feeling that she needed to find Carmilla.

— Carm? - she whispered, her voice hoarse from tears, as she scrambled out of bed. Panic surged through her veins, twisting her stomach into knots.

What if Carmilla was out there alone? The thought gnawed at her insides like a persistent ache. It was too dangerous outside, with the vampire hunters and Oliver lurking around, waiting for the right moment to strike.

She quickly changed, her hands trembling as she pulled on a faded sweater and a pair of jeans. Each piece of clothing felt like a reminder of the love they shared—love that was now tangled in hurt and misunderstanding.

As she stepped into the hallway, the heavy silence of the house amplified her anxiety. Every creak of the floorboards beneath her felt like a warning, each shadow in the corners a reminder of her fears.

First, she headed for the kitchen, where the scent of old coffee still lingered, a sign of a morning routine that had been disrupted.

— Carmilla? - she called softly, her voice echoing in the emptiness, but only silence greeted her.

Next, she ventured into the living room, glancing around with rising dread. The flickering light from the window illuminated the half-filled coffee mug on the table.

— Great. Just me and this quiet house - she muttered, feeling a lump rise in her throat.

Desperation crept in, tightening its grip. Laura had to find Carmilla, to know she was safe. Is this how Carmilla felt every time Laura took a risk? The gnawing uncertainty, the relentless worry—it was unbearable. Laura hated it with every fiber of her being.

Her instincts pushed her toward the basement, where she hoped to find Laf. They would know what to do, or at least provide some comfort in her rising panic.

As she descended the stairs, the dim light illuminated Laf sitting in an old armchair, their face lit with the glow of the dim lamp beside them. They were watching Elinor, who was sleeping on the chair, silver chains still coiled around her.

— Laf! - Laura exclaimed, her voice barely above a whisper, urgency evident in her tone. - Have you seen Carmilla?

Laf looked up, their brow furrowing with concern.

— No, I haven't. Why? What's wrong?

— Something's off - she replied, her heart pounding in her chest. - I can't find her, and I... I just had this awful fight with her last night. I can't shake the feeling that she's out there alone. It's too dangerous! - Her voice cracked, revealing her vulnerability.

— Laura, listen - Laf said, leaning forward. - Maybe she's just upstairs? Probably on the roof. She might need some space to cool off. You know how fiery she gets.

The thought of Carmilla being out there, angry or hurt, twisted Laura's stomach into knots.

— I need to check - she insisted, urgency propelling her back up the stairs.

As she reached the top, dread settled heavily in her gut. The minivan keys were gone, no longer resting in their usual spot in the glass bowl by the front door. A sinking feeling enveloped her—Carmilla had left the house.