Alessandro? Shit! What was going on?
Great, just great...I didn't feel safe in the house anymore. First the weird dream, then this.
I was a home person. It was my sanctuary. It was where I breathed. It was where I relaxed. It was the only reason why I was at peace with the world. I didn't have to interact with many people. I didn't have to be exposed to their stares. I didn't have to remind anyone that just because I was blind, it didn't mean I was naive, vulnerable. In here, I could be myself.
And, something or someone had just ruined it all.
I was expecting a whirlwind of dust to sweep me away any minute. I couldn't breathe. My hands sweated. I needed to get out. But where would I go in the middle of the night? I had no family, no relatives. I had no friends. I'd lost my parents when I was eleven years old.
My parents had been single kids. Grandparents had long been dead. There was no aunt, or uncle to take care of me. I'd been scared of being snatched by the Social Services. Instead, I had started living with my best friend, Jenny. Loved the smell of freshly baked walnut cookies in that kitchen. Mrs. Robinson and her cookies. No woman could do better in my eyes. She made that kitchen a bakery the moment she learned of my weakness for sweets. She would greet me at the door with a napkin in her hand. "Here, baby. Open your mouth. It's warm from the oven." It was always warm from the oven. I soon realized that the kitchen was responsible for the heavy monthly electricity bill. Gained 10 pounds that year. It was a miracle I didn't gain more.
Then there was Mr. Robinson. The gentle soul who always squeezed money in my back pocket as we left for school. Didn't care that I had loads of it.
"Buy yourself some ice cream," he'd say.
"Mr. Robinson, I'm Ok. I have money." I would feel embarrassed. Would always try to give it back.
"Nonsense, every teenager needs money. Right, Jenny?"
"Of course, take it." Jenny would laugh.
Protesting was futile. I knew it. I still did it. I felt bad for being their burden. But, they made me feel I was not.
"Just for today," he'd insist. As if this was it. A mistake had been done. And would not be repeated. As if it was too much of a hassle for him to take the money back.
I would give in. How could I not?
Yet, he would do it the next day. And the next.
In the end, I began to expect it. Wait for it. Cherish it.
And there was Jenny's grandfather who always sang--merry and out of tune-- every moment of the day. Whistled the Good, the Bad and the Ugly like it was his salvation. He loved western movies, and though he couldn't answer Mrs.Robinson's question, "Dad, what did you have for lunch today?" he sure could recall the lyrics of hundreds of cowboy songs without much ado. He was the one who suggested to change their traditional Sunday western movie nights into a book reading event. For me. He did it for me.
In the end, we did read the Good, the Bad and the Ugly. I've lost count of the times we read it.
Loved that family. The Robinsons made me feel special.
It all came crashing two years later. I lost Jenny when I was sixteen. Lost her to pneumonia. One that doctors failed to detect in time. I felt the life drain from Jenny as she lived through her last days. I lived through it all, I was there when Mrs.Robinson stopped baking, Mr.Robinson stopped caring, Grandpa stopped singing.
I didn't want to stay. In my own way, I felt responsible for it. As if Jenny would be alive if I hadn't decided to be part of Robinson family. As though I had the power to wither lives away. I got out. Got away. Found this house. Found my safe haven. I evaded the Social Services until I was eighteen. I became strong. Loneliness became my stalwart companion. Me away from people. People away from me. That's the way I wanted it. That's the way I liked it.
Now it all had to end.
My hands tapped the floor in vain. It was reflexive, it was what I did first before leaving the house, grab my wooden protector, my best buddy. I realized once more that it, too, was gone. I felt guilty that what disturbed me most was not the disappearance of Alessandro but my cane.
I walked slowly towards the door.
Achoo. It was too dry and dusty in here. I pinched my nose, trying to stop another sneeze. Achoo. It was not possible. A series of sneezes stopped me in midway. My nose was rebelling against something I was not aware of. I stopped breathing and ran outside. I inhaled the deep breath that I had deprived myself.
I didn't stop running though my heart beat like crazy in my ribcage. What if I fell? What if I hurt myself?
I didn't even know what I was running away from. I stopped. Scared, lost, I sat down. I remembered all those times I fought against my vulnerability, my blindness, all those times I'd taught myself to be strong... Life was mocking me. Look at me now. I had no idea where I was.
I felt him even before I heard him. It was his smell, the musky masculine smell infused with the dangerous aroma of something forbidden, my blood.
"Where's Alessandro? And, what the hell are you doing here in the middle of the night, alone?" he growled.
"Samuel?" I said.
"Who else, did you think it was Marcelo?"
"Who?"
"Your lover. Who else?"
I was having a hard time keeping track of this conversation. "I don't have a lover," I said. "What are you doing here?"
I barely remembered that he thought I had a lover named Marcelo. When I thought I was dreaming, and he was taking liberties with my body--my body responding to him like a blooming flower--I had named him Marcelo. My dream man. He'd taken it to mean I had a lover named Marcelo.
"I'm not sure. Are you okay?" he asked. For the first time, like ever, I sensed the worry in his tone. Not his usual condescension, denial, insults. No, it was none of that. There was a real deep concern in his question. That freaked me out. Did he know something I didn't?
"No. I'm not. Alessandro is gone. Where? I don't know. My cane is gone. And, I'm scared of the dust monster."
There was silence. I was not surprised. I would laugh if I was not so scared. Take that Samuel. You asked, and you got your answer. Let's see how you deal with a bit of honesty here.
"What do you mean Alessandro's gone?" he barked. "He would not leave you. He had his instructions."
What was he babbling about? "He said he wanted more blood."
"No. He was there to protect you. Damn it, Di! What happened to him? Start from the beginning."
Di? Why did hearing that nickname wash over me like a soothing massage? Then his words registered. I saw red.
Protect me? From whom? Apparently, Samuel knew more than I did. That made me angry. Simply furious. This vampire excelled in ruining my life. I thought I was done with this when he'd let me go when he'd changed our relationship into something less personal. Blood in return for money. It was simple. It was supposed to be simple. Had he now involved me in something dangerous?
"Is this your doing? Am I in danger because of you?" I couldn't keep my voice steady.
"This is not my doing," he said calmly. "C'mon. Let's go back to the mansion."
"No." I was not doing this again.
"Di, it's not a request."
Oh, he was born to drive me mad. Where was that cane when I needed it?
That is when everything changed around me. The air got heavy, so heavy that I couldn't breathe. Inhaling became really difficult. My heart squeezed in my chest. It was as if tons of weight settled on my body, forcing me down. Just when I was about to kneel in defeat, Samuel held me steady.
Did he also feel it? The darkness lurking around us?
Achoo. Damn, was I getting allergic to something?
I heard Samuel growl. The sounds coming from him were enough to scare anybody off. He was one vicious monster himself. One who fed on blood.
I would be fine with him here.
"What the hell?" Samuel said.
And, that's when I knew fear.
As always, thanks for reading. Tomorrow, there will be another chapter. What do you think is going on?
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Alena