Chapter 17:

Neve's Despair

Blood? Suckers!

It’s darkness I see and then there’s the sky.

A fairy, a fly and I want to know why.

They pop out of nowhere and suddenly die.

The whimsy of magic, but in it I cry.

It seems tragic I’m on my own.

A girl all alone with no place to call home.

I see a bed.

My bed.

My brand-new bed.

A bright shining room for a person all dead.

It’s right under that bed, someone once said.

A monster lies dormant and comes out with dread.

That person is me, so I look and see.

There is nothing beneath me, plain as can be.

It’s the same dream every night. Well, maybe not entirely the same – but the idea stays with me well past the time I wake up.

I crawl back into the childish persona, my only protection it would seem from the outside world.

It doesn’t hurt here; my memories only span the last few weeks and yet no matter what, I feel pain.

“Neve, breakfast is ready!”

Bell calls my name from the kitchen, his voice sings to me through the torrent of emotions that swirl through my brain. He is a light that shines bright enough to pierce through a vampire like me.

“I come!”

A small, juvenile outburst streams from my mouth; a happy spin on otherwise miserable time.

The nightmares keep getting darker and more vivid, if only I knew what they meant.

Putting all of that aside, I run out of my room in a giddy frenzy - straight towards the kitchen I go!

Hiro and Bell are already seated at the small wooden table; smiles paint their faces as they drink their morning coffee.

These two bring the joy in my life, I don’t even know if they realize how much they’ve done for me, but I am so thankful.

These moments make me forget the dark dreams which haunt me and wash away the sensation of a questioned existence.

This is home.

“You’re up late again, is everything okay?”

Hiro looks at me with those piercing eyes; surprisingly enough there is nothing intimidating about them to me. It’s as if he’s the scariest guy in the room but also feels deeply for everyone in it.

“Isn’t this normal though, Hiro? I thought vampires just slept all day and stayed up all night?”

Hiro looks at Bell as if he had just shoved a stake right through his heart.

“That’s because they have no other choice! Neve has a choice, also it’s not like she doesn’t sleep all night too. Couch potato.”

The grumpy, ex-vampire shows off a little grin as he speaks those last words.

Huh, couch potato? Who are you calling couch potato? You freaking hikikomori!

“Couch potato is a little rich coming from you.”

Yes, Bell! You’ve got my back! I knew you were always my favourite.

These two bicker like an old married couple as if it’s a full-time job.

That’s exactly what they are, my two fathers – who would’ve thought?

Not them, there is no chance they would appreciate that sentiment. That is one of the many things that I shall keep to myself.

I like to think of them as relatively forward-thinking people; I mean vampire equality and all that, but I feel their relationship is platonic. It is only the existence of a certain little vampire that brings them together to argue like this.

I think.

That little vampire being me of course.

The two of them go on and on throughout the course of breakfast. The thought of the monster under the bed still lingers in my head - a constant fixture, living there rent-free.

It isn’t real, but it feels as if it is.

The compulsion to believe, like the one I felt when I found Hiro – an irrevocable sense of understanding about something I cannot comprehend.

Sounds like an oxymoron.

All of that aside, there is a truth there that I feel I’m failing to see properly.

Am I in danger?

Do I need to find the monster under the bed?

As if saving me from the depths of my own imagination, I feel a warm hand on my head.

“You’re staring into the abyss, my dear child. I can tell you from being there myself, it’s not as fun as it seems – there might even be a small annoying child there.”

Annoying child? Does he mean me?

Wait no, that doesn’t make sense.

I tilt my head backwards a little and see Hiro’s nonchalant glare.


That, my friends, is the first time my father called me his child.

He may not have meant it the way I am taking it right now, but sometimes it’s the little gaps in reality we make up that change our whole perspective.

For now, I’m choosing to believe what I want to believe, the monster can wait for another day.

I hope.

Abraham B. A.