Don't touch them.

Chapter 4

   I take a step back and she stops, raising her eyebrow.
   "Is this that boy you were talking about?" She doesn't look away as she yells out of the kitchen.
   "Yeah Mom!" Anna calls back. Judging by the glare Sam shoots down the hall, I'm guessing he didn't know she was talking about me either.
   "So, this is my Mom, Sandra." He points to the buff woman in flannel, "And this is my Mama, Heather." He motions to the smaller one, who has the same grin as her kids. Did I meantion Omegas can reproduce no matter their gender or who their partner is as long as they're mates? Yeah. They're clearly the biological parents.
   "H-hello." I curse myself for stuttering.
   "Hello! It's great to meet you! The kids are very fond. Are you here for dinner? Sandra's making spaghetti." Heather says happily. But Sandra is still glaring at me, looking me over.
   "Actually, I think I'm just gonna go. It was nice to meet you though." I turn and head for the front door. His Mom doesn't like me and frankly I don't want to stick around to see how protective they are regarding their kids trying to be friends with some emo goth guy that looks like he's in a gang.
   "Wait! Why are you going?" Sam asks, grabbing my sleeve just as I reach the front door.
   "I don't think your parents like me." I pull my jacket tighter around me. I don't know why I care. No one likes me. But his Mom is admitedly scary...
   "Why would you think that?" His face falls.
   "Um, because I look like a beat up gang leader and your Mom, Sandra, looked like she was going to hit me over the head with that pan." I reach for the knob again.
   "Please wait! I'll talk to her. She just has Resting Bitch Face. She always looks that way unless she's just ecstatic." Heather explains. "I'm sorry if that question was a bit insesnitive, she's just a bit brash. Please stay? She's a great cheff and the kids really seem to like you. Come on. Come sit down." She reaches up and claps my shoulder. I flinch away, and she frowns, but leads me to the living to couch. I set my bag down beside it and carefully sit. Heather sits in the recliner to my right, facing me, and Sam sits on the couch on my left. Anna comes out of the hall and sits on the other end of the couch, playing a game on her phone.
   "Here's dinner." Sandra comes out with a tray full of plates go spaggheti. She sets in on the table and hands one to Heather, grabbing her own and sitting back in the other recliner to the left of the couch. Sam grabs a plate and hands one to me.
   "So, what's you name kiddo?" Sandra asks.
   "Dain, Ma'am." I twirl my fork in the spagghetti.
   "Please, just Sandra. I'm sorry if I scared you earlier. The question just kind of came out... Not much of a filter between my head and mouth." She shrugs and takes a bite of her food. But she looks... guilty.
   "It's fine." I take a small bite of the food. It has more flavor than food I'd normally eat. Most food doesn't have any real flavor at all. That's one of the downsides about being a vampire. I can only taste really rich food. I must have shown my surprise in my face.
   "I told you she was a great chef!" Heather grins.
   "I'm glad you like it." Sandra chuckles.
   "So, Dain, what do you like to do?" Heather asks.
   "Um, not much. I draw sometimes." I mumble. This is... Uncomfortable. No one ever wants to know about me. I don't really do anything...
   "He's really good at it." Anna says through a mouth full of spaghetti.
   "Can we see?" Heather looks excited, "I used to do some art myself."
   "Um, it's really not great." I twirl my fork in the noodles. Why am I so nervous?! I shouldn't care! I don't! But still, I open my bag. When I pull out my sketch book, the one my teacher gave me at the beginning of the school year, the dog food falls out of the bag. I quickly shove it back in.
   "You have a dog?" Sandra asks happily.
   "Yeah, his name is Aspen." I flip through the book to find my page of roses.
   "What kind if dog is it?" Sandra asks.
   "Um... A husky? Maybe? He's all white with whitish blue eyes." I turn the book around.
   "Oh that's so good! I could only draw cartoons, I never could shade for realism." Heather chuckles, pooking at my drawing.
   "Oh. Thank you." I can feel my face reden, extra noticable against my pale skin.
   We spend the rest of the evening discussing dogs, art, and food. Food meaning anything really spicey or really sweet. Then we watch a movie. I haven't seen a movie in a long time. It was scary. And during one of the jump scares, Sam jumped and leaned into my side... I think I liked it, despite the pain. It was nice. Eating food, watching a movie. Like when me and my Dad would go for one of our evenings out when Mom had a bad day.
   Around eight I had to go home. They insisted on driving me, though I had planned to walk. I could have bought an extra hour to make sure mom was either drunk or asleep. But in the car it only took ten minutes. Heather said she'd take me with a soft, pitiful glance at a guilty looking Sandra.
  
   "This is where you live?" She asks. My house isn't in a great place, but its not a bad area either. The house itself however, while surrounded by pretty little white houses, is run down. The lawn is tall, and the paint is chipping. It definitely stands out from the rest of the well groomed homes.
   "Yes Ma'am, thank you." I grab my bag and open the door. I stop for a moment, smiling when I see Aspen stick his head around the curtainm tongue hanging out of his mouth in my bedroom window.
   "Wow. You should smile more, you know? It makes look less... Like a gang leader." She winks. " And just call my Heather. And say hi to Aspen for me! And your welcome back at our house anytime even if it's the middle of the night okay? If you need anything?" Her expressions softens.
   "Thank you, Heather." I sling my bag over my shoulder and head to the house. I hesitate at the front door. She's still in the driveway, waiting for me to go in, or turn around. I almost do. Turn around, I mean. They seem nice enough, and even if its only for a night, I could have gotten a good nights sleep. But I have to feed Aspen.
    I don't wave as I walk through the door.
   Mom is waiting on the couch.
   "Late two nights in a row?" She asks. Her speech is clear and crisp. She's sober as she walks towards me.
   "I just-"
   "I don't want your excuses! You were probably draining some poor kid!" She punches me and I double over, both in pain and to make myself look smaller. But she grabs my throat and shoves me back against the door.
   "Mom stop! Please! I was at a friends house!" I plead. Her grip tightens and she punches me again.
   "You have no friends! What, were you fucking her!? In exchange for blood?!" She yells. "Oh no, your gay." She says calmly, tightening her grip further. I can still breath but barely. This is the worst she's done really, aside from the bruises littering my body. But still I can't help but panick. She's unpredictable.
   Aspen seems to sense this as he comes charging into the room a few moments later, tackling her. We all hit the floor. He's done this a few times before when he though I was in real danger. He's probably saved my life a couple times. Maybe he saved it again, but she kicks him. She kicks his back leg, which is already weak from the fire, and he goes down whimpering. She kicks him again. And again.
   I throw myself on top of him. I can feel her foot landing in my hip and side repeatedly. My eyes fill with tears but I don't make a sound. At this point it'll only make it worse. She stops after a couple of minutes, but my ribs will be ruined. Not the first time but it still hurts.
   "At least you have some sympathy for living creatures. Even if it is a usless mutt." She mumbles, walking off.
   "Come on." My voice is hoarse and my throat hurts. No doubt it will be worse on the morning. I grab my bag and head to my room, where I feed him and cry myself to sleep. I don't even have Mr. Charlie anymore.