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THE UNFORTUNATE TALE
OF AUGUSTINE DUBOIS
NESTLED ALONG THE SAG RIVER, NEXT TO THE BEAUFORT SEA, WAS THE SMALL TOWNSHIP OF PRUDHOE BAY.
Prudhoe Bay was as North as one could get in Alaska, and with a staggering number of merely four hundred people —an amount that only seemed to deplete— it was enough to drive anyone insane.
Ernest Dubois had packed up his new wife and their life in Achorage, moving them to the Bay where he was to be sent for work. The oil rigs needed a spare pump technician, and Ernest was one of the more qualified technicians in the state.
It was only a matter of months before Mason Dubois was born, followed by Augustine Dubois a few years after. When Augustine was three and her brother was seven, and when her father's death really set in with the arrival of a replacement technician, June Dubois packed up her family and left the Bay behind.
And no, she hadn't made them return to Anchorage.
With a population of thirty two thousand, Fairbanks was the largest city in the interior region of Alaska. It was no Prudhoe Bay, but the very promise of that was alluring. The settlement money that was issued to them following her husband's death was enough to get them a small bungalow outside of the city's core, in a quiet neighbourhood that was just a social class short from being a suburb.
It had a small yard and a creaky old front porch that came with its own welcome mat, something that June had tossed away during the next garbage collection day with something akin to a sneer.
June Dubois had never been the kind of parent you'd seek out to gleefully tell them that your tooth fell out or that you aced your spelling bee, but she had gotten worse after the death of her husband.
Really, Augustine had never remembered a time where her mother wasn't this cold, angry woman who did nothing but spend the remainder of the settlement money on cheap liquor. The children were sent out to work as soon as the money ran out, working odd jobs to keep the lights on while their mother sat upon her throne at forty four Cedar Drive.
The Dubois children were as thick as thieves because of their shared resentment towards their mother. When June was busy doing whatever she did, it was Mason who stepped up during parent-teacher conferences once he was sixteen, and it was also Mason who tried to take the brunt of the abuse at home.
But, June Dubois was not above picking favourites, and Mason in all of his eldest son glory got that spot. So, no matter how much he tried, it was always Augustine with the bruises and shallow scrapes on her hands from picking up broken glass while he couldn't do anything but watch. If he tried to help, they were reminded of the consequences of doing so by the matching scars they had on their backs.
It was a hell house, one that only worsened as soon as Mason went away for college. The source of June's only, albeit minimal, affection was ripped from her with just a single note from the boy, stating his departure.
Augustine could remember feeling betrayed, remembered the way she called his phone again and again until it was clear that he would not answer. He had left her there, in Fairbanks, for some school down south, but as much as she tried, and God did she try, she'd never blame him.
Had she been given a similar chance, she would've taken it, too. But she'd left him voicemail after voicemail regardless, begging for an explanation.
"Mase, just... just call me back. It's getting really bad here, and I," she whimpered through the phone one night, hidden away in her room as she heard her mother yelling drunkenly down the hall. "I'm really scared she might hurt me, for real this time."
Of course the Dubois children had conversations about it— about the potential of June Dubois hurting her children so severely one day, rather than stick to the punishments she was known to hand out. But she was their mother, no matter how cold or cruel, she was blood. She couldn't possibly do anything.
June's anger intensified as Mason's lack of contact continued on, seemingly unsatisfied about everything her daughter was or wasn't doing.
Until Augustine returned from home after a gruelling volleyball practice, a practice where her teammates had wheeled a cake in to celebrate her sixteenth birthday, and the house had been quiet. Still. And it was never quiet, it hadn't been in a long time.
Her mother, a burning cigarette in her hand and an empty can of bear limp beside her feet, stood from the kitchen table. She grabbed her keys and barked out a command. "Let's go."
Augustine's feet moved on their own accord, following her mother and sliding into the passenger seat, fingers shaking as she buckled her seatbelt. Her mother peeled out of the driveway, and began driving. "Ma, what are we—"
"Quiet!" the older woman snapped, hands starting to tremble. Her grip was tight on the wheel, and Augustine could recognize a few side roads before she realized her mother was driving them further away from the city.
In the darkness, she could barely make out anything other than trees when her mother suddenly drove down a winding dirt road, about fifteen minutes into the drive. The car suddenly lurched to a stop, June climbing out before practically ripping the passenger door open; a clear signal for Augustine to get out.
And despite the fear that crept up her spine, she obeyed.
"You've been nothing but a burden to me," June growled, her breath absolutely reeking of alcohol. Augustine flinched away from her gaze, pressing herself against a tree. "You've held me back, you and that traitor, and now I need to let you go."
She wanted to run, she should've because she knew she could outrun her if she tried. But she put her blind trust in the very woman who was supposed to never hurt her.
Such a foolish idea.
The knife was buried in her chest before she could even register that her mother's beaten up Volkswagen was driving away, leaving her to die alone amidst the looming pine trees.
The pain blossomed in her chest hotly, and she didn't feel the urge to scream for help. No one would hear her cries, they'd been so far out of town that it would be impossible. So, she remained slumped on the forest floor, hand pressed to the wound on her chest that stained her fingers crimson.
Her breathing was coming in fractured waves when she heard a twig snap to her left. Her eyes had drooped, and what felt like hours was actually mere minutes of her lying on the dirty ground, dying.
"Oh, honey," it was a soft, sweet voice twinged in sadness that came from next to her. Through the foggy haze of her eyes, she was able to make out the shape of a woman with brown hair that fell into effortless curls.
She looked like an angel, but Augustine had been deceived before. She wasn't going to make the same mistake. "Please don't hurt me," she pleaded with a sharp, painful intake of air.
The woman shook her head, listening as a cough of crimson tainted the girl's lips. "Will you let me help you?" she questioned, kneeling beside the shaking teenager whose skin was beginning to look sunken. "I can fix this, take away your pain. Give you another chance."
Augustine didn't know who this woman was, nor why her smile was so comforting in these last moments of her life. Rather than give a solid answer, her she only whispered out to the air around her. "I don't wanna die."
And on that night, as Augustine slipped under the veil of unconsciousness with her shirt ruined by her own blood, she was bit by the vampire who showed her mercy.
She was bit by the vampire who offered her a second chance.
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[ wyn's note ]
poor baby :(
now it's super clear why auggie's been so guarded when it comes to opening up and trusting people. we are june dubois haters on this account!!
till the next one, hope you enjoyed the updates! x