My Stepbrother's a Vampire!

6; The Vampire's Confession

Alec flicks on the bedroom light, and I am able to survey the extent of the damage. His clothes droop slightly from the weight of the liquid. Scarlet enwraps his body like an insubstantial, bloody embrace. He is a vision of death, of destruction, marked by the fluids of his crime. My eyes start from his shoes, and I notice with muted shock that the left one is missing. His sock is also flecked with maroon—oh my God, an unaffected part of my brain thinks. Even his sock?

His pants—those signature, tight black jeans—are stained. As is his shirt. The flawless skin of his neck is discoloured, smudges of red trailing up his Adams apple. Finally, I reach his face. Impassive is he. Those perfect, sculptured red lips seem almost darker. A little frosty chill darts up my spine when I meet his eyes.

They are dark; too dark. Like earlier today in the cafeteria with George.

Oh God.....George.

I repress the surge of dread I suddenly feel at the thought of George. The eyes I once considered a beautiful mysterious shade of azure are now a sinister hue of obsidian. They are depthless, unreadable and mesmerising—but for all the wrong reasons. This captivation I am held under is not because of his good looks. It is because, where before Alec used to only look inhumanly beautiful, now he simply just looks inhuman.

"Kara," Alec says softly. His tone registers oddly with me at the back of my brain. As if he is speaking to a frightened child. Not to say that I am unafraid. "Breathe, Kara. You've turned a terrible shade of white."

Even though he resembles the poster child for serial killer, I obey; my body collapses into itself as my lungs hurry to take in the air. I hadn't realized I wasn't breathing. Still, I don't think it is the reason my heart has stopped.

Now my brain has the supply of oxygen it requires again, I can finally speak. "Why are you covered in blood?" My tone is too soft. Too weak. I am surprised it is even audible.

Alec manages to hear it. "I told you," he replies serenely.  "I know how to get my own back."

It takes a moment to comprehend the meaning of his words. Bile surges to my throat, and I struggle to keep it down. "Tell me—" I choke. "Tell me that isn't George Aisles' blood."

He can only keep quiet. Of course. His confirmation does not need to be voiced. The mask of emotion indifference he wears defensively breaks a little, and concern oozes out of the cracks. Worriedly, he looks over at me. "Do you need to sit down?"

"Why?" I whisper, ignoring the question. "How?"

Alec gazes steadily at me. "Why?" he repeats. "I think you know why. If there's one thing I hate, Kara, it's overconfident boys. Pubescent males always seem to irritate me. This boy himself saw something different—something dangerous—in me. He chose not to keep away."

Something dangerous? My earlier research comes flooding back to me. George's bizarre insults. Alec's tattoo. The way he couldn't touch that crucifix.....

There is something crippling me from asking the question I want to ask; I think it is fear, but, for some bizarre reason, I am not afraid of Alec; not entirely. No, in this moment, he is something else. A demon, a killer. Not the arrogant boy I met two days ago.

Or maybe he was pretending to be something back then, a voice tells me. Keeping up a pretence.

There are so many questions, but I limit myself to one. "What are you?" I ask outright.

Alec doesn't reply straightway. "Sit first," he says, gesturing to his bed. "Before you go into shock, which I promise you will. And then maybe I'll answer any questions you have."