I packed enough clothes for a week, and then I rushed into each room to make sure that everything was shut down and unplugged. About a year before I was born, my parent’s house had an electrical fire, and to this day, my father makes sure that everything is unplugged whenever he leaves for a few days. The fire was caused by a mouse chewing a lamp wire that was sitting against the back of the couch. I won’t lie to my father, and I know that when he sees me in the morning, he’ll question me, and if I didn’t unplug them, he’ll drive out here himself and do it.
I rushed back to my room to get my suitcase, and that was when I remembered to pack my personal supplies. It seemed the only thing I wanted was to be home with my father and Kemo, and I was fighting every urge to call the house. I couldn’t, because my father would force himself to stay awake, and his health is more important than my fear.
I flashed to my closet and took out my small carryon bag, it was the smallest bag I had, and ever since I was ten, I’ve hidden my personal supplies and makeup from my father.
The day I got my period, my mother took me shopping for some makeup and supplies. The makeup was to help me feel better about myself. I was bloated, in pain and three, extremely large and dark red blotches appeared on my face. They weren’t pimples, they were something else. My hormones were off balance, I could suddenly read minds without trying, and I was an emotional wreck. I shouted at my mother, cried for no reason, and I couldn’t control my hunger for sweets and blood.
Mother was amazing that day, she never took anything personal, she stayed calm, and whenever I was close to snapping, she told me jokes until I’d laugh. That day she taught me how to put on foundation, mascara, lip-gloss and light colored eye shadow. She said that it was important to only highlight my features, without making myself look like a clown. We spent the rest of the afternoon playing spa. We polished each others nails, she taught me how to shave my legs, and she let me curl and color her hair. I picked out a lovely shade of red; she loved it so much that she never dyed her hair a different color. She taught me how to accept myself for who I am, and she reminded me that no matter what, I was and would always be her little girl. By the end of the day, I was back to my normal self and excited about telling Father what we did.
That was a big mistake! He jumped up from the dinner table and pulled the calendar off the fridge. He used to mark everything down on that calendar, and it hung on the fridge for everyone to see. He recorded my behavior in a notebook, and he constantly asked me if I felt irritable or if I had an increase in my thirst or desires. What a thing for a Father to ask his little girl.
I felt like a Ginny pig, and Mother noticed it. We slowly adjusted my supplies, planned fake arguments, and my mother would pretend that she was irritable when it was my time of the month. Within three months, my father became frustrated with having two of us on the same cycle. He began staying at work later, and soon my cycle was no longer recorded. I reached under the sink for my makeup bag, and began adding the little makeup that I sometimes wear.
From the moment I stepped into the washroom, I could clearly hear Brad talking. He wasn’t whispering, and although I wasn’t trying… I heard every word that he said, it as if he was sitting in the same room as me. I finished packing, shut off the light and grabbed my suitcase. I was about to head downstairs when I heard Brad clearly say that he loved the person on the other end of the phone, and that he would see them in a few hours.
I wasn’t sure who was on the other end of the phone, but I’d bet my fangs that it wasn’t his Master. I’ve read nearly every book written on vampires, and no vamp ever talks like that, not even in the cheesy romance novels.
I stood at the top of the stairs, and waited until I knew for was sure that he was done before I headed down. I was panicking on the inside; I headed straight to the kitchen and shut everything down before I had no choice but to join Brad in the living room. I was dying to ask who was on the phone, but I had already embarrassed myself enough, and the last thing I wanted him to think was that I didn’t trust him.
