The entire contents of the cutlery draw smashes to the floor.
“Oh for crying out LOUD!” My voice rises to a shrill scream. Kicking at the forks, they are sent flying across the tile floor. They clatter against the wall, chipping at the paintwork.
“That is the THIRD time this WEEK.” I’m growling as I kick again, sending knifes skidding across the tiles at full speed. Groaning at the top of my voice I drop to my knees and start reaching for the various pieces of cutlery spread across the kitchen floor. Stretching to pick up fork number 5 I give in and hurl it at the wall. The stabby end sticks into the wall and the whole thing wobbles. With a frustrated scream I slam my hand against the tile and I feel it crack down the middle.
There’s a chance you’re wondering how I can throw cutlery at the wall and make it stay or maybe the fact I can crack tiles and dent walls with my throws. Sometimes I wonder myself but then I remember what I am. Aside from the obvious, I’m an angry hormonal 18 year old girl; I’m actually half way through the turning phase. No not like that! I mean turning into vampire.
Go ahead, laugh. It sounds stupid I know. Honestly, when I hit 15 and my mum sat me down and rather than boring me with the normal growing up talk she came up with the vampire tale? It made me laugh too. I stopped laughing when dad joined the discussion to back her up. Thoughts of my parents wacked up in a mental place flitted through my brain, ‘coz I genuinely thought they were mad. It took them a while to convince me. Meal times every day became another excuse to try and educate me on the ways of my ‘kind’.
By 16 I had finally given into them and accepted what they were saying. That was only because I was finally given evidence. My two older brothers, Joshua and Lucas, provided it to me. I walked into Lucas’s room to find him and Joshua comparing fangs. I mean, seriously? Comparing fangs – stereotypical much? But yeah, I screamed and slammed the door behind me. With a thudding heart and a tearstained face I planned to run away but Mum caught me packing my bags. Angry was a bit of an understatement really.
“You’d run away from your family because of what you are?” she exploded. Sat there with one bag clutched in one hand and all my money in the other I was silent.
“That will be you one day! You can’t escape this Adrianna!” she continued at full volume. This final comment was it. Flowing tears always has been one way to end an argument with mum, within minutes she back tracking. “Not that you need to escape it darling.” She added quickly. Sweeping across the room and sitting beside me, she gradually made me see that life as a vampire wouldn’t be too bad. By ten o clock that night I finally realized all the things it included.
That was until now. At 16 the turning was a long way away and the prospect of slowing losing my humanity didn’t bother me in the slightest. But now at 18 and with the increasing damage to our home I’m starting to dread the full turn. That’s what I’m going through now. My strength is increasing rapidly; when I go to pull out a draw the whole thing flies out the cupboard because I’m pulling at it so hard. When I mean to throw something at the wall it smashes into and takes chunks out the brick. I go to play fight with my brother but end up bruising his arms.
But yes, back to the present, we don’t need to wander down memory lane or dwell on what’s to come. Mum walks in and sighs at the sight of me crouched on the floor again.
“Sweet heart you need to be careful-” She begins but I smash my hand against the floor again.
“I am trying mum! You don’t understand.” I hiss.
“I do, I’ve been through it-” she continues.
“Like a century ago! You probably can’t even remember what it’s like.” I cut her off again. She gives me a reproachful look and I sigh. Pounding starts up in my head and massage my temples.
