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Chapter 3
It is the summer of '72. I am curled up on my bathroom floor when Mitch comes in looking for me.
The door knob shakes but doesn't open and for a quick moment I'm happy I remembered to lock the door. That is until I feel myself heaves again as my stomach threatens to burst.
"Go away!" I manage to mumble.
"Anniel open the door" his voice is soft and soothing. I nearly find myself getting up but then another wave of nausea hits me and I'm reminded of how I must look. And smell.
"Go away Mitch!"
I hear him pacing on the other side of the door. Mitch has been worrying about me, of course he's always worrying about me. "Honey let me in or at least let Fran get in there and help you." Fran was my father's new wife and for now they are happy.
"No" I don't like Fran. She wore too much make up and not enough clothing.
"Come on babe I'm going crazy out here."
Looking back on it now and I regret not unlocking the door and letting him. Maybe then he wouldn't have left that morning in search of a distraction. Maybe then he wouldn't have found the festival, that damn festival that would change my Mitch forever.
After leaving my house he realizes just how much of his life revolves around me. He could manage a day or two without me right? It was then that he heard the noise.
"-and so without any further ado let the festivities begin!" He followed the cheering till he saw the crowd clustered around my father as he stood at the podium, his voice booming through the loud speakers. Mitch stood there for a moment engulfed in the cheer and screams of my father's adoring fans. Thats what they really were, fans. To them he was like a beacon of light in our people's vast history that for years was shrouded in darkness.
The day my ancestors first were bestowed our awful curse was also the day our fate was forever altered. That day we became monsters as we were forced to thrive on the blood and death of others. We became murderers, raiders, and thieves of the night. We were savagely prosecuted for a fate that had been cruelly thrust upon us. That is why my people had left the only home they had ever known and fled to the stars of night, searching for a safe haven to call their own.
They found a home here, on the planet of Ore. We thought we had finally gotten a chance to start new but soon after arriving we were confronted with a much different type of madness. The drive for blood, the monster within each and every one of us soon found a way to come through. Despite many advances the deaths of native Orians never seamed to let up. It was then that we found the gift endowed by the gods to the people of Ore: Peace. Peace danced through their veins just as unrelenting hunger swam in ours. Blood like that mingling together caused a kind of chaos the likes of which Ore had never seen. The bodies couldn't handle it forcing the mind to altar in terrible ways; irreversible ways. It was then that the true dark ages descended on my people.
My father had been "brilliant" enough to find a way to do something about it. Walls. Huge walls were constructed slicing the world in half. In my eyes it was a monument to my fathers heartless soul. We came in and stole countless streams of land. Homes, places or worship, school, everything was taken that was in our half all for the sake of stopping a problem we ourselves began. In the eyes of history though, none of that is remembered. My father became a hero to these people and the native Orians couldn't find it in themselves to show any outcry at this horrible injustice.
That is why Mitchell stood silent and unwavering in the eruptions of the audience. He and I were among a rare few that didn't like my father. He was spell binding. They said he could win over an entire crowd with the wink of his eye, a talent he never tired of taking advantage of.
