Silver Bullets And Pretty Fangs. (WxW)

01. Who is she?

I nod. “It's all over the news.”

He places a tattooed hand against his chest. "That is sad." 

His honey-brown eyes flick to the desk in front of us. Then he looks back at me, and I know exactly what he is asking.

"Of course she does." You're like the only person who didn't know this,” I mumble, shaking my head.

Raking a hand through his tamed shoulder-length black hair, Benji remarks, "I can not believe this."

There is silence throughout the room as Mr. Hugo enters. Silva sits down, and the tall man speaks only after we have all settled in. 

"The sad news about Mr. Darek Patel has reached all of us; may his soul rest in peace. Here with me, I have a list of activities tha–”

Everyone's attention is drawn in by the soft knock on the door. I nearly choked on my breath, mine was the most snatched. 

Standing at the door are my parents.

Mom is as tall and graceful as ever, even at fifty. Her auburn hair falls to either side of her face, reaching her shoulders. Her lips full and tattooed in a shade of nude, her high cheekbones flushed a pale pink. Her slim body is draped in a black jumpsuit, which accentuates her hips.

I swallow, the freckles and my cheeks are on fire.

Though I gawk like everyone else, I would kill to be six feet under right now.

Dad chooses a black muscle shirt and basic faded jeans. He has a nightclub bouncer's appearance.

Watching this hurts.

Someone lets out a "Whoa."

Mr. Hugo demands attention by clearing his throat. "How may I assist you?"

I keep my eyes on Mom.

Why are they here? Did something happen?

Mom scans the room; starting at the bulletin board with announcements and ads near the exit, then at the board and the professor's desk. Finally, she looks at our seats.

My breath hitches as she gets closer.
As if intending to make it torturous and drawn out, she takes her time to find me. I feel a knot in my stomach, but eventually, her gaze reaches me. 

Her face breaks into a wide smile as our gazes lock. My cheeks flush.

"Yes. Yes, you can," she responds, not a flaw in her voice. 

I wince.

"I would like to talk to one of your students," she says, maintaining eye contact as though I could disappear if she averted her gaze. "Brock, Eden Rain."

"Is that you?" Benjamin whispers as he kicks my foot.

I nod, eyes trained on Mom, "Apparently."

"Might I ask why?" Mr. Hugo asks.
The room goes quiet for a moment, everyone's ready to hear the response.

"She is my daughter." My blood curdles.