The Vampire Queen.

Chapter 1: The Painting of a Mother.

CHAPTER 1 – THE PAINTING OF A MOTHER

"Shavannah!"

"Shavannah!"

"Shavannah, sweetie!" The voice echoed through the short room and rang at the core. It was demanding and annoying and it was the sixth time she's called me today. What could she have possibly want now?

I sat up from my round wooden stool and gripped onto my apron to pull it off.

"Yes!" I shouted when I made it out of my room.

"C'mere!" She shouted in distress. I groaned, but did as told regardless.

In the living room I found my step-mother laying half recumbent lounge chair. She had her feet up and her hand rubbing on her belly. There was a sense of frustration on her slightly pink face. When she spotted me it was completely relieved.

"Aww, sweetie... get me the remote!" I looked at her and then let my eyes slide across the room. The remote that was settled on top of the TV just a couple feet away from her.

"Really Karen," I let my hands rest on my hips, "Why, just get up and get it yourself. You're pregnant not crippled," I scoffed. I turned to walk out of the room but when she let out a loud groan and whimpered, I turned back.

"Oooh, I think I felt the baby kick," I raised an eyebrow at her and sent her an incredulous look.

She has got to be kidding me...

"You're barely two weeks pregnant. I doubt the baby even has legs yet, let alone feet to kick," Karen puckered her bottom lip and lit out another whimper before throwing her skinny arm over her face.

"Oh, I wonder how your father would feel about this, I mean..." She let out another sigh, "how would he feel if you were being so rude to the mother of his baby..."

"What, how the heck am I being rude to you?"

Karen gave out false gasp, "And cursing too! Dear God... What will your daddy say about that? Who do you think he'll believe, Georgie?" Glaring, I walked over to the TV and grabbed the remote and tossed it to Karen. A smirk curled at the corners of her lips as she caught it.

"Yeah, you listen to mama," She let out a gurgling giggle from the back of her throat. I wanted to feel angry at her, but as always, didn't. I gave up and walked back to my room.

"You aren't my mother," I felt myself mumbling as I shut the door behind me and walked back to my canvas. I wasn't angry, however, when I picked up the brush again, all I could see was black paint harshly streaking across the page. It was once a girl with a soft heart faced look and a calm smile, but now after I repeatedly painted the black dripping paint over her in a violent assault, she was now nothing but a black silhouette standing in the middle of the street. I had ruined it.

I brought my hands to the edge and ripped the paper that laid on the canvas. I ripped the paper out and began shredding it up with my bare hands. After I finish my terrible tantrum, I let myself drop onto the bed with an angry huff. There was two hours until my dad got back from work, and I'd make dinner... Until that time came I laid on my twin size bed with my hand cradling the gold locket around my neck.