"So what happened then?" I ask.
Sophie has been silent for a few minutes after finishing her story. She sits on the bundle of dirty clothes, her eyes closed as if listening to the sounds coming from outside the shack. "Hmm?"
"Well, what happened afterwards?"
She scoffs. "Well, I'm here, aren't I?" she says, releasing her legs from her crossed-legged pose, massaging them as she straightens them. "Still kicking and stuff."
"So everything went alright with that Council? They let you off?" I ask, as I feel the stiffness in my own legs, having been standing there the whole time.
"Yup, as long as Gregory kept an eye out for me, I was free to go wherever I wanted," replies Sophie, smirking.
"Was that your guardian's name? Was it that vampire who rescued you from. . .from that place?" I do not go into details with her confinement since Sophie has been so helpful in providing that information. I suspect it has helped her somewhat to tell someone about it. It usually helps me to notify my parents if I am having a panic attack and they would help me through it, either verbally or non-verbally. I am therefore a little bit relieved for her sake that she has managed to convey her sad tale to someone, even if that someone was me.
Sophie nods but says nothing more, still massaging her sore legs.
"So what did he teach you?" I askcuriously. Despite the gripping horror to it all, I have to admit that I am enthralled, almost enchanted by it. When Sophie is this calm, she almost looks like a regular girl who had a knack for telling terrible ghost stories. I almost forgot what she really was.
Sophie shakes her head. "Go home, Leia," she says, rising to her feet and picks up a black leather jacket that hangs on the wall by a crooked nail. "It's getting late and you don't wanna be hanging out with a vampire this late at night."
I look at my watch and to my horror, see that it is almost eight thirty! Way past my own curfew! I'm usually home around seven on weekdays. My parents must be worried sick about me. I check my phone and sure enough, there are five missed calls from my mom.
"I have to go!" I blurt out and storm out of the shack, hearing amidst the clatter of shopping carts and the crackling fire from the barrels, Sophie's laughter.
****
My face is cold and wet. Water falls down from my face in small droplets as I continue to splash it on myself in front of the bathroom sink. I'm back home, part relieved and part horrified. Relieved that I survived this ordeal of mine and that I'm back in my familiar place and warmth, but horrified after listening to Sophie's story in the shack that was filled with the stench of blood.I was so afraid that my clothes and hair smelled of it that I rushed inside the bathroom as soon as I entered my home while yelling to my mom that I was going to take a bath.
So here I am, drenching my face with ice-cold water despite the fact that I had been just outside in the freezing cold. I can't help it; It's like with every splash, that I wish that it could wipe away the knowledge I have just aquired over the evening. If only if it was that simple. There's no way I can block it out, my brain simply refuses to do that. It's like it's trying to convince me that it could be of some use later in my life and even if I try to contradict it, it simply counters that at least it was nice to see Sophie again and even better that she spared our lives.
I chuckle out loud at the thought and sarcastically, I think how convenient it was that Sophie had been full tonight. I turn off the faucet and drain the sink, my face is freezing by now, and turn on the hot water for the bathtub. While it's leisurely filling with hot water, I start to undress and throw my clothes, piece by piece, into the washing machine that was next to the bathtub. Even though the stench might not have carried over to my clothes, I don't want to take any chances so I fill it up, put some detergent inside as well as a hefty amount of lavender-scented fabric softener and push the start button.
Within the hum of the machine starting up, I regard myself in the big mirror next to the bathroom door. As always, my reflection scowls back at me as I start critizising the flaws of my naked body; the freckles that are not only present on my face but on my shoulders as well - how the hell is that even possible?!; my small breasts and my not-so-small tummy - the results of not doing any sports of any kind as of late and eating a lot of fast food this winter; my wide hips and big thighs - genetic courtesy of my mother's part of the family. Like every other girl out there, I vehemently hate almost all parts of my body and wish that I could look like the celebrities of Hollywood. My ideal body figure is Sarah Michelle Gellar's from the Buffy series because we are of similar height, but I know that no amount of training could shrink my thighs and ass to Mrs. Gellar's standards.
I let out a deep sigh, deem myself defeated at the hands of my criticism and slip into the bathtub. The searing hot water gives my flesh goosebumps but the warmth spreads so thoroughly within my body that I pay it no heed and completely submerge myself in it. Even though my body is cozily warming up to the tempature of the water, my mind and heart are still feeling the ice cold remnaints of tonight's event. I wouldn't even wish it to my worst enemy. I can't imagine the things she has gone through, my mind simply can't wrap itself around it. I know for one that I would have fallen apart even before it began. But there are people out there that are strong enough to plow through, to dig themselves out of a prepared grave and live their life as they have always intended. I know Sophie is one of those people and I feel a small bud of pride blossom within me. She will be fine but I have to let her know someday that if she ever needs someone to talk to, I could be there for her. . .if she would let me.
I come out of my ruminations and realize that I've already walked into the kitchen, my wet hair nearly stowed inside a towel on top of my head, and body already dressed in my pyjamas. I'm glad that despite having been zoned out, my brain had remembered to put me in clothes after my bath.
I hear sounds coming from the living room and I know that my dad, Stanley Walker, is watching tv. He usually retreats into the living room after helping my mom clear away the dining table. My mom, being a high school teacher, is probably in her study, planning the next day's schedule for her class. My brother, Nathan, named after our paternal grandfather (Nope, no Luke! Courtesy of mom), is most likely in his room, playing Counterstrike while listening to thrash metal. I'm glad I don't have to interact with him tonight; we don't really get along, probably because he's in his teens and is always super embarrassed by his older, ultra weird sister. I don't think he understands anything about my mental problems, it's either that or he just chooses to be mean towards me.
I walk over to the kitchen counter and grab a bag of bread and jars of peanut butter and strawberry jam. Dinner is long over, I realize, but I'm famished so I start spreading peanut butter on the bread.
"Pb and j for dinner?" says a gentle, kind voice and mom walks into the kitchen. I inherited most of my mother's features; her wavy blond hair, though hers is longer than mine; her height and general physique but most importantly her eyes. They are a dazzling blue, the most beautiful feature of mom's, though of course mom is really pretty in every way. I think I pride myself to have her exact eyes but people rarely get to see their brilliance as I have to hide them behind my glasses. See, I may have inherited mom's eyes but I got dad's bad eyesight.
"I was hungry," I reply, an apologetic smile creeping on my lips. "I'm sorry that I missed dinner."
Grace Walker smiles back at me and sits on one of the bar chairs next to the counter. "Busy day at school?"
I nod. "There's an essay due next Friday on historical wars and I was at the library, looking up resources." It was technically not a lie, I had been at the library looking for books when I heard the appalling gossip of murder between the two girls.
"A long essay?" asks mom, grabbing a slice of bread that I had already spread with jam and taking a small bite, winking at me.
"About ten pages, which is why I wanted to get an early start," I reply and begin spreading jam on another piece of bread because I could never touch the bread that she had bit into. I mean, I love my mom but ew! Think of the germs!
"That's a good girl! The hardest part is the beginning and it gets easier once you get started," says mom in a praiseful manner.
I let go of the knife I was holding and clap my hands together, once and then twice. My mom looks at me surprised for a moment, then her features soften. I'm sure she must have thought, along with myself, that the medications should have eradicated my "quirks", but apparently they never go away completely, just tend to linger around and wait for the right moment to strike. I blush as I lower my hands and start slamming the slices together, but mom only reaches forwards and gently caresses my cheek with her hand.
"There's still leftovers from tonight's dinner," she says and points to the fridge. "We had meatloaf."
I try to smile but it comes out as a grimace and mom adds hurriedly: "It tasted good this time! I'm getting better at it!"
I stifle a giggle. The reason for my grimace is that after listening to Sophie's story, I am not in any mood to consume meat; her intrique details had taken all desire for meat away. "Nah, I'm in the mood for something light tonight," I say and take a bite into the sandwich.
I blow kisses at her, say good night and walk upstairs to my room, the plate of sandwich in my hand. Unfortunately, my room is next to Nathan's and his metal music is thundering through the second floor, even though his door is closed. I consider knocking on his door and ask him to lower the volume but I'm pretty sure that he will just flip me the finger, tell me to fuck off and stop ruining his concentration. No, I decide I don't need this kind of verbal abuse as I got plenty of it from Sophie earlier this evening.
I enter my room, and try to ignore the noise coming from Nathan's as I close the door. My room is nothing special except for the fact that my walls are nearly completely covered by maps. All kinds of maps, geographical, historical, even fictional. I've been collecting maps since I was a kid. I have no idea why but I always found it soothing to look over all the countries and the cities within the countries in each map growing up and that fascination hasn't diminished since then, not by a long shot.
In fact, I've been setting up lots of fictional maps in my room as well and I am particularly fond of the map of Middle Earth from the Lord of the Rings series which I put on the wall in front of my bed. Of course I've got a map of the US and another one of Alaska (birthday present from my parents when I turned 10) that I pinned on the door. My dad and I have been marking the hiking trails around Anchorage onto the map and putting pins on the ones that we have hiked. It's one of our quality times together that I immensely enjoy because we can chat about everything and anything but in reality, we just geek out and talk about our common interest: Star Wars. But we haven't had much of that lately due to the heavy snow this year's winter brought us. Speak of the devil, as I look out through my window, a slow flutter of snow has begun drifting lazily down the ground.
I put my plate on the nightstand and lie down on the bed while slowly munching on the sandwich. I relish that small reprieve I got from talking to my mom and finally getting nourishment into my body. I must have been running on fumes that whole time with Sophie.
Sophie. . . I wonder why she told me to go home. Was she worried about me? Did she know of my usual routine? She obviously didn't want to continue with the rest of the story, I at least got nowhere with knowing about her guardian. She had been stuck in that ghastly prison for two whole years and she had been away for four. . .what had she been doing for the last two years? I can't help but feel a little vexed, like I've been cheated of getting a treat for being a good child at the dentist.
I know I can't exactly coerce her into continuing her tale but I hope she won't be teasing me for too long either. While I'm terrified of Sophie and her beastly, macabre ways, I find myself becoming more intrigued by them as I wonder whether they are that any different from us humans. I snort out loud, well minus the fact they hunt us down for food, they do seem to have some kind of hierarchy and strict rules that every vampire seems obliged to follow. I have my doubts about Sophie, she was not really the kind of girl who liked to follow rules. Especially since she avoided answering my questions about her guardian. Whatever it is, I make a mental note of contacting Sophie again tomorrow evening and hope against hope that she will be in a favorable mood for more horrid tales.
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That's it for chapter 8!
This chapter gives a little insight into Leia and her situation with her family. There will be more to come with that later on.
I hope you enjoyed reading this and look forward to chapter 9!