A Sanguinary Rose

Thorns of a Rose

THE ALARM was a jackhammer drilling into my head. The world swayed, except it was me who swayed, my vision swimming, as I tried to put a stop to the painful din thundering in my ears. A piece of notepaper rolled off when I tumbled to the floor, holding out my arms and coming to a sprawl on the carpet. Ears still ringing, the dying echoes still bouncing in my skull, I held the note above and deciphered the floating words on the paper.

Avoid sunlight, cover up well. Whatever you do, whatever happens, tell nobody, not even your parents. I'll try to explain everything at school. -Oliver.

I sat up on the floor to think, to collect my bearings. But my mind was coming up blank. What's up with yesterday? It was all blurry. Bits and pieces came back of when I told Dad I was going out, him getting tough about how dangerous it is, then my friends and I driving in someone's car to someone's party, then nothing.

My stomach lurched when I realized I still wore last night's clothes—blouse, coat, jeans, and bare feet. Plus, my high heels were nowhere to be found.

My smartphone rolled loosely in my coat pocket. I thumbed the scanner and the first thing I saw was the contacts' app displaying my personal information.

Under such strange circumstances, heeding the note seemed the sane thing to do, so I cracked the shutters open enough to corroborate. Outside was still dark, the first signs of dawn giving the sky a pink shade. The light, faint and low as it was, sent a slight sting in my eyes. To say that I was freaking out was an understatement.

Hurrying to the bathroom, I undressed and checked myself in the mirror. My skin was the color of milk. A tiny red lump in my neck stuck out as a result, two microscopic holes if you looked closer—something bit me in the night.

My heart caught in my throat. The signs were there, but it couldn't be. It was ridiculous to even think it. Was I a...? No, not possible. But the note warning of sunlight, the light stinging my eyes, the alarm giving my ears agonizing ache, the bite in my neck; here I thought vampires were only fairytales, no? And just who the hell was Oliver?

I went in the shower. A sense of helplessness overwhelmed me. Staring blankly at the wall as dark thoughts swarmed and overlapped in my mind, creating so much noise and commotion in my head, I just wanted to curl into a ball and disappear from everything.

I lost track of time, but Mom yelling to hurry up made me spur into automatic action. Outside the shower, I slipped into a pair of black jeans, a long-sleeved light blue T-shirt, climbed into my hiking boots, and clasped a snap clip to rein in my hair from one side. I grabbed sunglasses and a hoodie for when the sun came out, if it was as bad as it sounded. The leather gloves and the umbrella came as afterthoughts as I worried for my wellbeing. I slung my school bag under my arm.

Making my way down, I realized it'd be hard to pretend everything was cool. I felt as though a fist were closing around my stomach. More so when the light slanting through the windows in the hall made my eyes water and forced me to bar it from sight. I hurried downstairs to find Mom brewing coffee in the kitchen. The note's warnings flashed in the back of my mind. Tell nobody, not even your parents. That was understandable. I wouldn't want them to think I had gone cuckoo.

Mom wore a black blazer over a white blouse: the usual attire for the law firm. Cropped, bronze hair and blue, calculating eyes, she was a lioness at work, but a doting mama bear at home.

She looked at me and sighed in mock exasperation. "Baby, aren't those sunglasses overkill?"

"Yes." Although my eyes didn't sting as much when I looked through them.

"Fine. Just hurry. You're both gonna be late."

My younger brother, Marcus, scooped through his cereal. "What kept you?" Like me, his auburn hair took after our mother. He was a good degree shorter than me, and of stockier build.