He's A Monster

Mom is it supposed to hurt?

My bare feet sink into the soft, damp earth, toes squishing in the mud. I glance around—I'm in the woods, but not any woods I know. Not the familiar ones I love because of Marshal.

Where am I? Why am I here? And... where am I going? Those questions pound through my skull as I stumble over tiny bushes, holding my hands out in front of me to ward off branches. But something feels off. I'm moving, but it's not really me: it's as if my body is being controlled by someone else.

A low rumble reaches me, followed by a soft, haunting melody. My brow furrows. Piano? The sound is coming from somewhere nearby. I stop, standing by a tree, listening. It's beautiful... heartbreakingly beautiful.

I glance down at myself. My nightgown flows to my thighs. My hair is... done? Perfectly curled sections frame my face, one falling over my left eye. What is happening?

My feet follow the music almost automatically. Hands on my hips, I approach the sound, catching a small lodge tucked in the corner of my vision.

A thrill of curiosity and something else I don't understand makes me reach for the door. My hand trembles as I push it open.

"Aren't you lovely?"

I freeze. A tall figure stands before me, back to me, fingers moving over the piano keys. His voice... his accent. It's familiar, like Marshal, but older, more proper, refined.

I raise an eyebrow, confused. Why do I feel the urge to reach out to him?

"Do you know me, miss?" His voice is low, smooth.

"No." My chest is fluttering. I don't... I can't. I just am here.

"That's a shame."

"W-why?"

"Because I know you, darling."

I study him closely, alarmed. His face... it reminds me of Marshal. How could he know me? I'm nothing special.

"How...?"

"You're with my younger brother."

Brother?

"Marshal?" I whisper.

"Yes. I'm Vincent."

He didn't tell me he had a brother. How do I even know this isn't some dream? Everything feels unreal...yet vivid.

"Beautiful one, you are."

His hand brushes my face. A sharp jolt shoots from my wrist up my arm, down my spine, and my head pounds.

"Danielle? Danielle, sweetie, wake up."

I groan, blinking against the sunlight hitting my face. My hands rub at my eyes.

Shit. Marshal.

I look around; the room is empty. My body tingles with aftershocks from last night—my chest tight, warmth lingering where he touched me.

"M-" I start.

"Shh."

"Danielle, I met your boyfriend."

My eyes widen. I pull the sheet up to my neck, suddenly self-conscious. Ugh, I'm sorry, Marshal.

"He's very proper, charming... sweetie. I'm sure you'll be just fine with him during your little break."

Wait. Does that mean what I think it means? I get to hang out with Marshal for a break?

"Are you serious?" I sit up, holding the sheet tight. My legs ache, numb from sleep, and I curl them instinctively.

She smiles faintly, hand in her lap, a few streaks of gray in her hair catching the light.

"I'm serious."

Am I still dreaming? This is ridiculous. This... this feels like a dream. Or did I just have that vision and lose my mind? Vincent... those woods... how could that even be real? I've never seen him before, heard him before, or even seen those woods before. So, how could that man know me?It doesn't make any kind of sense. I shake my head, looking at my mother, seeing her staring at me, puzzled.

"Hello?"

"Yeah, mom?"

"What's wrong? You've been staring at the wall."

I shake my head, deciding not to mention the dream. That would just be weird. What could I bring up? Oh, I don't know, maybe the fact that your thighs hurt and your vagina feels swollen. Well, that would make more sense to ask than admit I am losing my mind.

"Mom... is it supposed to hurt after it?"

I immediately regret asking. I'm eighteen. She's going to judge me, be flabbergasted, and send me to church for such a private question. Disown me. Maybe toss me out the window. Fantastic.

"Yes, for a few days, sweetie."

"Uhm.. sorry."

"No, hunny. It's fine. I'm glad you feel like you can talk to me, especially about things you are worried about."

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"He's... special."

Her brow arches. Oh god, Danielle, don't say he's a vampire.

"I mean... he isn't like the other guys."

Her hand rests lightly on my thigh under the sheet. Okay... stay cool, stay cool.

"If you have more questions, come down and ask me."

"Mhmm."

"And, hunny?"

"Yes?"

"He told me to tell you he was here and did not just vanish after well.."

I nod as she leaves, the click of her door louder than usual.

I lie back, curling under the sheet, heart still racing. Sunlight warms my skin. Then suddenly I hear my mom's footsteps, louder, her nails dragging along the railing of the stairs, her breathing: steady, slow. 

Breathing?How can I hear that?

 "Man, did he drug me?"  I groaned, rubbing my left eye. 

Well, even if Marshal had... taken advantage of me somehow, even if some strange energy lingers from last night... it was worth it.

I roll onto my side, the sheet falling to my lower back. My hand finds my phone among the messy sheets. Friday... school. Ugh. I can't pretend to be sick; Mom knows I am okay.

I stand, feet hitting the floor, a familiar ache in my inner thighs reminding me of last night. I don't care. I pull on a loose sweater over my bare chest, not caring how it looks, and slip into yellow underwear. My fingers twist through my messy hair as I grab some basketball shorts I'd "borrowed" months ago from my mom's closet.

Downstairs, the smell of strawberries and bananas hits me. God, why is it so strong? What is wrong with the fruit? I blink, dazed, half-lost in thought about Marshal and the lingering heat of last night.

"Hunny?"

"Yes?"

"What are you doing?"

I stare at her, dazed. Climbing a mountain? Something like that, obviously.

I wobble to the kitchen, pour a glass of orange juice, and take a sip, letting the cool liquid hit my tongue.

"Hello? Are you just going to ignore me today?"

I glance at her, sitting at the counter with a faint smile, watching as she pours the pink liquid of her smoothie into a bottle.

"What, mom? What are you talking about?"

"You're out of bed. You're sick. You should be resting," she says simply with a grin.

"I... I am, what do you mean?" Then it hits me, she was letting me stay home, my lips curling up, "Oh, mom, you're the best."

Her smile warms me like a blanket. Maybe being a little "sick" isn't so bad when I have a hot vampire to think about... Mwahaha.