Chapter Text
A burning sensation spreads slowly across my thigh, travelling across my skin from the outside in. I open my eyes sluggishly, still dazed from the night before, inspecting my leg for the source of this pain as its intensity goes from ‘itchy’ to ‘painful’.
Piercing through what should be a completely dark room is a singular blade of light, marching slowly across the floor to make an attempt on my life. I roll away from the pin-prick of sunshine only to end up knocking my knees into a wall. I sigh, resigning myself to the reality that I will need to stand up if I want to avoid being cleft in twain.
There is a moment where I consider if I can be bothered to muster the energy to move any further; contemplating the possibility of permitting this sunbeam to simply complete its destined path and destroy me. I lie there a moment longer, allowing the light to reach my skin once more, to feel the way it irritates and chars me, to gauge if it is worth the continuous pain of its journey. Once it has gotten a few inches across my thigh I groan and crawl up and away from the ray to inspect the source of it.
Scattered across the bedroom floor are cans, bottles, and empty takeout boxes; a mess, but not the origin point of this intruder. The ceiling is still as bare as when I last stared at it, but on the walls, between the posters and stains, a piece of cardboard has come unstuck from its position covering the window.
I take the four laborious steps over the mess to where the offending section has removed itself, and push it back into place. In proper darkness I can finally make out the extent of the mess. Amongst the debris there are brand new stains, most of which trail to the corner of the room, where three people drained of most of their colour lie on my mattress, barely breathing. Memories flash in my mind, inviting a friend to get high with me and my housemates, them smoking, all of us drinking.
One of them groans, I walk over and shake them all probably a bit too hard.
“Alright, fuck off outta my room, I wanna sleep in my bed,” I mumble.
Slowly all three of them roll off of the mattress, though my house mate Madison requires some extra encouragement so I grab her by the arm and drag her on to the floor. It takes about ten minutes, but eventually my bedroom door is shut, and I collapse, allowing the squeaking springs below to rock me to sleep.
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Many hours later I am awoken by a loud knocking, and look up to see my other housemate, Charlee, walking through my door. They have on a variety of relaxation and cleanliness products, attempting to spa treatment away the hangover and blood loss they’ve been dealing with all day.
“Hey Annie, someone at the door is asking to come in,” they announce.
I groan, not moving from under the thin blanket I’ve wrapped myself in.
“She says she’s your sister,” they continue, “Unless you tell me I should I’m not inviting her in.”
I freeze in place.
What on earth would she be doing here?
“Um… just, just let me talk to her,” I say, rolling onto the floor with a soft thud.
I very slowly stretch out, levitating on to my feet as I extend my arms above my head. I reach over to an oversized t-shirt sitting on my desk and slip it on, attempting to cover up somewhat. I didn’t truly believe my housemate, but sure enough, behind the door stands Edith Fairfax; lawyer, doctor, researcher, and “beloved” sister of mine for the past couple hundred years. Her suit is sharp, her hair immaculate, the epitome of someone well put together enough to put a lot of energy into looking pristine, on top of already being a workaholic. I stare in stunned silence.
“Anne, darling, put your fangs away, you don’t know who’s watching,” she chastises.
“And hello to you too Edie, what a surprise for you to stop by, it’s only been half a century.”
She rolls her eyes, and knocks on the door frame.
“May I come in? I need to talk to you.”
I scoff at her lack of response, and turn to look back at the share house. I can hear the others chatting, obviously my other friend hasn’t left yet.
“Just… letting you know the others in this house aren’t my thralls or food or anything, they’re my housemates and I don’t want them like, getting caught up in anything dangerous.”
She nods absently, and raises her eyebrows to push me to answer her question.
“Alright, fine, come in,” I say.
Once the words pass my lips she is immediately walking past me and inspecting the house. She scrunches her nose when she glances into my room, catching a glimpse of the layer of trash over the floor and flimsy cardboard over the window. She stares, flabbergasted, at the pile of laundry covering half the couch that Madison is currently using as a cushion to rest on while falling asleep to a movie, and the array of dishes and trash that cover every surface.
“You… you seriously live like this?” she mumbles, almost to herself.
“Please tell me you didn’t come around just to judge my living situation.”
She doesn’t respond, instead continuing her self propelled tour of the share house. Eventually she wanders into the kitchen where Madison and Brett are eating toasted sandwiches and chatting about work. In a flash she has her face right up against Brett’s neck, inhaling deeply through her nose and inspecting his arm where he has a bandaged up the wounds from last night.
“Hey, what are you-” He begins to protest.
I grab my sister by the hand and push her up against the wall. It isn’t especially threatening, in spite of being taller than her, she is significantly stronger than me due to how much more frequently she feeds. She likely just doesn’t care enough to fight back.
“Please forgive my sister, she’s obviously not used to interacting with normal people. She won’t be staying long,” I say, my words less reassuring as she effortlessly slips out of my grip and leans into my ear.
“I thought you said they weren’t food, you’ve obviously fed off them recently,” she whispers loudly enough that the others can hear. The others wordlessly excuse themselves.
“It’s… It’s not like that. Sometimes I forget to go to the blood bank or butchers and they help tide me over for a bit but… last night we all decided to get blasted cause Charlee got their hands on some weed.”
“You drained your… friends-” she emphasised that word with no small amount of disgust “-so you could all get high?”
“I didn’t drain them, it was just enough to get on the same level as them, and also they say that it makes the high better.”
She rolls her eyes, sitting down on one of the rickety chairs at the small table in the corner of the kitchen.
“What on earth do you mean blood bank? Are you seriously telling me you aren’t eating fresh? Not only that, you’ve lowered yourself to going to a butcher for… what? Pigs blood?” She visibly gags.
“I try not to kill people where I can,” I respond flatly.
She looks at me quizzically, the idea of not killing people for food obviously foreign to her.
“Edith, what the fuck are you doing here? Surely you have some reason.”
“Well,” she starts. “Father asked me to check on you.”
“What? Dad?”
“Mhm, he wants to make sure all of his offspring are well, and wanted to offer your place in the family back.”
“Right, well you can tell dad I’m just fine, and I don’t want any part of his death cult,” I spit. “Now, if that’s all, please get out of my house.”
For the first time in decades I see an expression of… uncertainty? Embarrassment? It’s difficult to pin down.
“Well… I also wanted to check in on you myself… I’ve been worried about you,” she says plainly, returning to her usual look of cold efficiency.
A large part of me screams that this is some ploy she’s using to try and rope me back into her business, but another smaller part at the back of my mind whispers a hope that she may actually be here at least to some extent because she cares. I sigh loudly, looking askance to try and come off aloof as I respond.
“Well, now you have, I’ll see you in anoth-”
“May I stay a while?”
“… What?”
“I was given a handful of months to spend with you. I can spend the time in one of the hotels in the city but I was told to see how you were doing so… I feel it would be best for all parties if I stayed here.”
My mouth drops, my cheeks are hot, and I start to see red as bloody tears form in the corners of my eyes. Before I know it I reach across the table and slap her hard across the face. She seems unperturbed by the impact, keeping eye contact and awaiting my answer.
“You come here after all these years and… what? Want to get to know me? Ask to stay? You should know more than well enough I can’t trust you near me, near my friends.”
Her face is stone, and she nods almost imperceptibly before standing. She looks me up and down, notices my burn mark, which causes her to hesitate before speaking again.
“I just-”
“Leave.”
She turns away, walking through the house and to the door with the grace of a big cat. As we leave the kitchen, my housemates and Brett all step aside, having obviously listened in to the whole conversation. We get to the doorway and my sister turns back to me.
“If you change your mind, my card is on the table.”
“Goodbye, Edith, you are not invited back.”
Looking out into the night, she steps forward and vanishes into a cloud of mist, the door closing seemingly of its own volition behind her. I turn back to see the gaggle of humans peeking around the corner again, various expressions of worry on their faces.
“Sorry about that,” I whisper, red tears now flowing down my face.