Vampirism | ✓

16 | Generational Curse

Haruto met up with me the next day, and then the next, and the day after that—and soon things went back to normal. Well, as normal as they could be. I had shed my shame and hesitance to look him in the eyes, and I was glad I did. They held no judgment, no fear, just curiosity, and love.

A month passed, and some of our dynamics had changed. I had to explain to Haruto that I actually didn't like human food, and in fact, it made my throat burn and scald. He had looked sad about that but quickly adjusted to only making food for himself. I would sit down and watch him eat, but only after Haruto had made sure I had eaten. Most days I would just hum and nod, and that would be enough of an answer for Haruto. We didn't talk about what or who I ate—I think it's something we both decided to ignore.

Initially, I hadn't been sure what knowing what I was would do to Haruto's Christian faith, but he seemingly read and prayed more. Whenever I caught him with a bowed his and clasped hands I wondered if he was praying about me—asking God if I was a test or some joke. Haruto reminded me of my mother a lot. She would do the same, but in her case, she felt that if she prayed hard enough God would lift the generational curse of the descendants of Lilith. My mum wanted to be normal. My mum wanted to be able to walk into a church without her skin itching and threatening to roast like meat over an open fire. She wanted to wear a scapular and hold her rosary. She wanted to hold a bible, be drenched in the waters of baptism, and take holy communion.

My mother wanted to serve God. My mother wanted to be Catholic and it was ironic that God had already chosen her master for her by damning all her kind to hell. It was ironic that right now, she was probably scorching in hell for not being good enough by virtue of her birth.

Almost no one was good enough for God.

Maybe not even Haruto.

"What are you thinking about?"

I blinked, looking at Haruto who had tilted his head to the side to stare at me. We were both in the bathtub in his apartment, squeezed into the tiny space as the water we'd poured the bath salts we'd gotten as part of a free item deal in the store wrinkled and pruned our skins.

"Nothing..." I trailed, swallowing the spit in the back of my mouth as I pushed wet hair away from my face. "I was just thinking about my mother."

"Oh."

The bathroom fell into silence. I had told Haruto what had happened to my parents. I had never met my father. I just knew he had been staked shortly before I was born. My mother had died later under the hands of a human man she'd fallen in love with, and then I had fled to the USA, leaving Germany and all the terrible memories I had formed in it behind.

"Do you—do you think your mother's in hell?" Haruto's voice was quiet.

My gaze fell on the foaming water between us. "Yes."

"How are you sure?" he asked, leaning forward a bit. His face was inches away from mine, and our wet skin rubbed against each other's as the water wobbled with his movements. A good amount escaped the bathtub and poured over onto the bathroom floor. "Everything you tell me about her tells me she tried her best."

I shrugged. "She was a demon, Haruto," I said. "Demons go to hell," I repeated the sentiment that I was taught from my mother.

"Generational curses get broken all the time," Haruto insisted. "Sin might be collective at times, like with Adam and Eve, but salvation is individual."

I pursed my lips. "I don't believe that."

Haruto smiled. "I don't blame you." He reached out to pull me into his lap. I straddled him in the bathtub, staring down at him as I held his face. My heart was beating fast, and I could hear everything—the rise and fall of his chest, the disturbed water that made pattering noises when it hit the tiled bathroom floor, the sound of the vent—everything.

The memories on Haruto's body were calm, though large chunks sloughed off him and into the water. There was a strange ooze coming from the pools of black behind his ears, but they didn't bother me.

"If you become a demon too you won't be able to go to church," I blurted, not too sure where I was going with my statement.

Haruto shrugged, rubbing his hand down my chest. "Quakers don't go to church, we worship at a meeting house. I'll be fine." He reached up to hold my face, smiling at me before pressing a kiss to my lips.

"Haruto..." I trailed when we broke the kiss. "Why aren't you scared?" I asked. He seemed surprised by my question, but it was something I had always wanted to ask. I've told him—shown him that I'm a monster and he's still here.

"Scared of what? You? Hell?" he asked, running his hands up and down my back.

"Both," I let out, allowing myself to hug him to myself. His head was cradled in my chest as I looked at the blue bathroom curtains that we'd looped over the plastic pole. "You seem more perplexed at the idea of living forever, than the possibility of going to hell. You're also letting me hug you when I could eat you," I said, feeling his breath against my chest.

"After everything I've been through in this life, I'm not sure there's much that can scare me anymore. You can see my trauma, Wern, do you think hell is worse than that? I don't think so," he muttered, pulling away from me so that he could hold my gaze. "Also, you're the furthest thing from a monster, Wern."

My face heated up. "You're just saying that." My eyes stung with tears as vivid memories of the people I'd taken from this world played in my head. "You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"We're all imperfect. That doesn't make us monsters."

Killing people is more than just being imperfect. I wanted to argue but I kept my mouth shut.

"Also, why would I have sex with a monster?"

My eyes went wide at his words and I felt my throat get clogged up with an internal scream. I wanted to say something, but nothing came out when I parted my lips. Haruto laughed, so I pushed his head, before climbing off his lap and moving to the edge of the bathtub.

"Why are you acting like a baby over this? It's true!" Haruto kept laughing, teasing me as he moved closer to me. He kissed my cheeks, and then my temples and eventually my lips. He stayed like that for a while letting our hot mouth and soft lips relieve us of the seriousness of our conversation.