He killed a bunch of people. Girls, mostly. One not much older than me. How long before I start looking a little too tasty? I thought he was my friend. I’m such a loser.
Bad enough she let him go. Didn’t stake him. Any other vampire, he’d be toast. But not her evil bloodthirsty boyfriend. “He has a soul.” Big whoop.
But now he’s living here. Here, in the same house with her own little sister. “I want to show you the world” my ass. ‘I want to show you what a sick little freaky family we really are,’ more like. This isn’t my home anymore. It’s ‘Buffy Summers' home for wayward serial killers.’ Next thing you know, she’ll be making me share my room with Anya.
He killed them. Vamped them. God, he admits it. And what does she do? Tuck him into her cozy blue blankey like he has the flu, instead of bloodlust and evil. She is so in love with him, the idiot. She denies it. Liar.
‘From beneath you it devours.’ How about from the next room? I swear I’m going to wake up one morning dead.
I can’t believe she’s letting him stay in her room. I so don’t want to know what’s going on in there.
She says she wants to keep an eye on him. Just wants to make sure he’s safe. Hello, vampire. Safe? Never safe. Fangs and bumpies and blood-breath. Like a soul’s ever really gonna change him.
Still, I remember all those nights we spent, watching TV and playing cards. Long, sad, lonely nights. Guess I was an idiot too.
Because he’s not my friend. Not anyone’s friend. He’s a killer, and a rapist, and he’s living in my house.
Mom, I know now it was you. And you are so right.