A Sanguinary Rose (Complete)

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.

“You don’t have to wait for me if I’m late.”

I served my bowl of cereal. The first spoonful tasted bogus. Then the next one. It felt as though I were eating flavorless mush. Not only that, but it wasn’t easing my hunger. It wasn’t filling my stomach. Nichts. Nada. It felt akin to eating something that dissolved as soon as it had contact with my tongue. The granola bar I ate afterward got me the same results.

I stared at my mom. If she hadn’t had her back turned, and I hadn’t been wearing sunglasses, she might have seen my pleading eyes. I wanted to cry. What’s the worst that could happen if I snitched about this?

With an empty stomach, I clung to my school bag under my arm and shuffled behind Marcus out the front door. As soon as I stepped out I knew that was the moment my life would never be the same, and every single day would comprise having to survive through it.

I lifted the sunglasses to find out the light stung my eyes, or worse... it could get much worse through longer exposure. I rolled up a sleeve, and a burning sensation grew ever slightly on my skin, like holding your palm over a candle. No more horse riding, canoeing, hiking, camping, school trips... We went in silence. Marcus talked a little, but any word I might have said got choked halfway out my throat. I kept my mouth clamped shut, fearing he might hear the despair in my shaky voice.

Our daily commute took us through Farpoint downtown. We walked out of Weeping Willow Drive, onto John Dee Avenue and turned on Farpoint Boulevard, where the ancient Great Oak of Farpoint stood in the center square of town, right before the town hall building and the public library. Most government (and some private) buildings outside the suburbs bore Victorian architectonic styles, with their fancy columns and cupolas, the eaves poking out with the faces of beasts. To my knowledge, no other town near us or even in the same state came close to resembling our quaint townscape. A few more blocks up ahead on Griffin Nest Avenue stood Farpoint High School, Home of the Griffins.

“You got practice today?” I asked Marcus as we filed in with other students. “I... I don’t think I’ll be able to walk home with you.”

“Yeah,” my brother said. He played basketball. He was a stout believer he would get taller by playing it. “Don’t sweat it. It’s not like you’re my nanny.”

Inside the commons by the entrance I spotted the boy from my fourth period with his beanie cap. We locked gazes until he looked away, flustered. I knew there was something he wanted to say. The look in his face seemed to say, ‘I want to talk... but how do I broach the subject?’

That’s Oliver!

I pushed through the crowd with a sort of keen eagerness, as though I were dying of thirst and he held the last bottle of water in the desert. His name nearly choked on the way out of my mouth. “Oliver?”

He smiled. Except his smile looked more like a wince and his cheeks like tomatoes. It was clear he had difficulty looking me in the eye. A blonde girl with a short bob cut stood beside him. She turned to say something to him, something I wasn’t supposed to hear. I thought I could make out her words even though she was whispering them in his ear.

“Yes.” The boy scratched the back of his neck.

Where do I even begin? My tongue was tied. He was probably asking himself the same question. “You... help?”

The boy in the beanie cap wrung his wrists. What I saw in his darting eyes was pity. “Yes... it’s just... the thing is... I’ll explain, okay? It’s difficult. Hey Anja, how do we... break it to her?”

The blonde girl nudged him on the side. “Just tell her,” she mumbled.

“It’s not so simple.” Oliver cleared his throat. “Yes, sorry. Scarlett, this is Anja.” She waved at me, smiling coyly. “We need you to not freak out so we can explain. We can help you. I may not understand how you’re feeling, all right, but at least I know what’s going on.”

“Please.”

“Not here, though,” Anja said, tipping daintily on her toes and looking around us. “Hope you don’t mind skipping first.”

Damn, do I?

***

The library was empty during first period, except for the librarian, Mrs. Lindt, who gave us a wary eye as we stalked to the furthest bookshelves in the back.

Oliver turned to me and leaned against a shelf, thrusting books off it and sending a racket of noise all over the room. He scrambled after them, red across his cheeks.

My arms were crossed. I still didn’t understand why these two cared one bit about me. “So, what’s wrong... with me?”

“You might have figured it out, probably not,” Oliver said. “We need you to keep calm, okay? Here goes. You were attacked. By a vampire. Still with me?” He gave me a nervous smile.

It was surreal, like an act within a dream just moments short of being cut off. “I know what a vampire is. I know they don’t exist, or at least they’re not supposed to exist. But how? It doesn’t make sense. I d-don’t remember anything.”

“That’s right. You can’t remember because you ‘died.’ I found you at the park on my way after the party,” Oliver said, scratching the back of his neck.

“Wait a sec, I thought you said you saw her getting attacked,” Anja said, tilting her head to the side.

Oliver nudged her.

Silence.

“I brought you to your house. It would’ve been bad if you stayed there until dawn, for obvious reasons.”

“He looked up your address in your phone,” Anja said. “And he carried into the safety room.” Oliver turned redder. I guess I couldn’t have figured out that one on my own. I thought she sounded silly. There was a noticeable lingering hiss to her voice, as well as a certain endearing lisp—not exactly a lisp, as she tended to pronounce the s as sh instead; s-backing, was called, I believed. She gave me the impression she was one of those weird gals who would try to purr like a cat when flirting.

“Okay, this isn’t funny. Never was. Did someone slip a pill in my drinks?” I creased my forehead. “I had no drinks yesterday. Okay, just come out and say it. ‘Just a prank, bro!’“

“Fine... go stand outside under the sun and tell me if that’s a prank anyone could pull off.” His eyes darted when I frowned at him.

Anja looked down at her feet while rocking on them. “Scarlett, he’s telling the truth. You should understand so you can be safe.”

“Please, how is it possible though? Do they really exist?” I didn’t want to believe, but I knew it was true.

“They have always existed,” Oliver said. “I’m sorry it happened to you.”

“But why... why are they treated like... fiction? Like, why was I never warned?”

“I’m sorry, that’s not something I could properly explain. But we could help you,” Oliver said. “Remember you cannot tell anyone what happened to you. Not your parents, siblings, or anyone. We’re here for you. Anything you need.”

Anja turned to him. “She should see Mr. Royce.”

“For sure. Hey, Scarlett, I know this could be hard on you, but would it be possible for you to hold out until break? We’ll take you to him. Hopefully it’ll be smooth sailing from there on.”

***

The moment I entered my third period, history class, I regretted my decision. Should’ve skipped the whole day.

I sat as far away as possible from the open windows. To my chagrin, the sun was coming out and the clouds clearing away. Rick, one of my best friends, entered then, dumping his backpack next to his desk in front, and sat facing me sideways. He had a knack for making me and others laugh. The funny faces he made sometimes brought me out of the darker moments in my life.

“Ready to ace this test?” He grinned.

“Yeah.” What test?

“Why the shades?” His grin turned into a confused frown.

“Mr. Blake, you sit at the front.” Mr. Howard’s voice boomed up the rows of desks. This was routine, by the way.

“Sucker,” Rick said under his breath, and trudged down the aisle and sank on his chair.

A few rows behind him, right next to the window, I caught Eli staring at me. If there were a competition for class clown, he’d come closer than anyone else to winning, except many of his jokes bordered on bullying. There was a malicious glint to his eye as he watched me. I had gone months, maybe the whole year, without him ever noticing me. His strange leer got to my nerves.

“Ms. Rosenbaum. There will be no cheating in my class. Take the shades off,” Mr. Howard said, flipping through his papers, looking at me.

I hesitated at first. Eli was trying to show me something. He positioned his chair under the window in a way that sunlight streamed on him, raised his arms ceremoniously, and closed his eyes as if to take in all the light and warmth. He drank it in, imbibed in it, and smirked to make it more obvious. I couldn’t believe it. He was mocking my new aversion to sunlight.

I took off the sunglasses as ordered, only to receive a sting of pain. I scrunched up my eyes and turned away. Mr. Howard gestured toward the windows. “You, draw the shutters.”

The teacher moved up and down the aisles handing out the tests. “As you know, if I catch you cheating, you’re done for the semester. No hocus-pocus hogwash or your ‘new-world’ gadgets. Mr. Roth, I’m looking at you,” the teacher said, glaring at Eli; he smirked while leaning back, balancing his chair on two legs. “Let’s get started.”

As soon as I put pencil on paper, I realized how the words, no matter how many times I read and reread them, did not make much sense. I was famished. A nagging thought before, now it governed every inch of my brain. Hunger took charge of directing my thoughts. Food replaced what I knew of the American Revolution. I let my gaze drift from peer to peer while my mouth watered. I might have been picking out which one was the choicest meat from a menu. The digital clock up on the wall snapped me out of my daydream. It was ten minutes until lunch break.

***

Rick and I made our way to the cafeteria. Toward the end of the hallway I spotted Melanie rummaging through her locker, surrounded by two of her friends, or goons, more like.

“Watch this,” I heard her say to them, despite the distance between us and the tumult of chattering students heading to lunch drowning out her voice. I watched her as we came closer, but nothing was forthcoming. Then as we passed by, she wheeled around and stuck out her foot.

But I saw it coming, and a sudden viciousness took over me. The powerful punt on her shin made Melanie fall on her butt, choking in a scream of pain that never got out. She nursed her leg, whimpering, while her friends drew in a collective gasp and blurted insults. “Ow, you stupid slut!” Melanie yelled, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Better watch out where you put your hooves,” I said, and kept on walking. The students who had witnessed it stepped back and gave me a wide berth to pass through, staring... I could feel their staring eyes digging holes into my skull, sense their callous words slandering my name. And I sped down the hallway to lose them.

Rick caught up to me. “Scarlett. Wait up, you okay?” After the first shock let up, he said: “Holy crap, that was heartless.”

“Heartless what she’s put me through.”

I supposed hunger was getting the better of me. On a normal day I would never have seen it coming. But what is normal, anyway? Normal in this town would be odd anywhere else. Odd in this town would be downright outlandish anywhere but here.

Once in the commons, it was easy to spot Tiffany and Amanda sitting together. Sometimes other people joined us for lunch at our table. Leslie often sat next to Tiffany to gossip, and Jason with Rick to talk about football.

I wasted no time diving into my food. Without shame, I wolfed it down. I was grateful the others made no comment. Today we had mac and cheese, lousy vegetables, and a hot dog. I couldn’t help but realize, to my increasing frustration, like my cereal earlier in the morning, this meal wasn’t filling my growling stomach. So I sat there, staring at my feet, getting more annoyed every second, and I began seeing red. Yes, more than before.

Oliver or Anja would’ve known something about this. Where are they? I peered around and saw only students having a good time while I sat here, suffering.

“Look, look, there he is!” Leslie squealed in her gossip mode. She turned over her shoulder while leaning in to Tiffany’s ear. Her limber neck drew my attention for a few seconds. “Tiff, look at that blazer... oh my God.”

There, striding at the head of his group of friends, was Alan Grayson. His near angelic face inspired envy and respect in men, and his hairstyle was all-around imitated to death. His aristocratic manners and noble posture presented an enduring reminder of the old times of princes and their princesses, of gallant knights and their fair ladies.

“Sucks he doesn’t swing your way.” My lips tugged with disdain.

“I second that statement. It’s not your fault,” Rick said, flashing me a grin.

“I can taste the salt in that statement,” Tiffany said, with a sly smile. But that made me grit my teeth.

“What? Am I the only one missing something here?” Jason asked.

I bit my lip. Why am I still starving?

“Scarlett approached Alan. He turned her down,” Tiffany said. “Can’t go any deeper.”

“Well, that’s okay. There are plenty of fish in the sea,” Jason said, winking at me. I could’ve pounced on him right there and then, and fed on his blood, had someone behind me not touched my shoulder.

“Hey, Scarlett?” It was Oliver, wringing his wrists. At long freaking last. “A moment, please?” His cheeks turned crimson red.

The chair screeched on the tile as I shoved it back when I stood up. My friends glanced at each other as though I had gone crazy. Perhaps I had.

Oliver tittered, and I followed him. From behind I watched his fingers clench, and his feet shuffle as if he were about to trip. He led me to one of the emptier corners of the commons, under the staircase. Anja was there, rocking on her heels, waiting for us.

I crossed my arms.

“How are you doing so far?” Anja asked.

“Well... I’m starving. No matter how much I eat, how much I stuff into my mouth, the hunger won’t go away. Everything tastes like mush. It’s driving me crazy.” I said, taking a step forward. “You said I should see Mr. Royce. He can help me, right?”

“Your body will never starve as long as you keep eating. What you’re feeling is your want for blood,” Oliver said. “You haven’t told anyone, right?”

I pursed my lips. “How am I supposed to know to whom it’s all right to tell?”

“Um, only if you know for certain they’re deviants or humans who already know about us.”

“Us?” I couldn’t help myself. “No way, you’re vampires...” The word still tasted bitter on my tongue.

Anja giggled. “Of course not. I’m a werecat,” she said, a bit loud for my liking, puffing up her chest proudly. That might have explained the hissing and the s-backing. “It’s such a relief getting that off my chest. Oliver is a devil.”

“Now you’re putting that on my chest, thanks. I’d rather you didn’t disclose that so openly,” Oliver said, biting his lip.

I gave Anja the biggest smile I could muster, hoping she wouldn’t see through its phoniness. “You can tell me all about it afterwards. So can you help me? Now?”

“Don’t worry about it. I know Mr. Royce will be of great help to you,” Anja said, smiling from ear to ear. She took my hand. “Come, he’s this way.”