Page 1 of Shut Up and Bite Me

For centuries, humans have created tall tales about fanged creatures that are damned to the shadows of the night, but they were wrong—we are most definitely not damned, and we happen tolovethe light.

Most clichés and superstitions about us were created…well, by us as a form of false security for the humans. If they believe we can’t go in the sun, then they will never suspect us walking beside them during the day. Besides, it’s not our fault that humans love a good story, and we love to tell one.

I suppose not everything written about us is a lie. We do, in fact, survive on human blood, but at least we are humane about how we feed. We only take blood from the willing.Enough to sustain, never drain.It’s a rule, a mantra, a guideline, or rather an understanding between us.

I can’t promise that we all used to do it this way because I know that we haven’t, and we also don’t need to feed constantly like the movies and books will tell you. In fact, we only need tofeed twice a year, unless we are injured or hurt in some way; then, we may require a little blood boost.

We don’t go hunting in the shadows or lurk in a dark alley waiting for an unsuspecting victim. Instead, we have an agreement. We call it the Culling, an arrangement of sorts between humans and ourselves.

We’ve gone by many names since the dawn of time, striking fear in those who speak them—bloodsucker, undead, monster, parasite, demon, and the most commonly known one…vampire.

I’m fine.

Everything’s fuckingfine.

But I’m starting to think that might actually be the problem. I’m tired of the same routineeverysingleday. Wake up. Shower. Gym. School. Homework. Run. Bed. Repeat.

Over and over and over and over and over again.

Most of my life has been normal, boring, and predictable, and I used to love every single unexciting moment. I liked waking up knowing exactly what I had to look forward to.

I think a lot of that has to do with my early childhood. The unpredictability of my early years formed the stability I craved later in life.

Being in the foster care system until I was eighteen taught me many things. It taught me that not all people who pretend to be angels are good, and promises are often empty words. I moved around constantly as a kid, bouncing from home to home. Some weren’t that terrible, and some were born from nightmares.

Oftentimes, food was used as a weapon and an enforcing tool. There were times I spent days without eating as their form of punishment, or where I was only fed canned dog food for a week because I was behaving like a “rabid animal.” Mind you, my “rabid behavior” was leaving toys out after I was done playing with them. To be honest, I think those foster parents never truly wanted to help kids rather than be handed a human punching bag and a check.

If it were up to me, those homes and those “parents” would be burned to the ground. I was forced to learn at a very young age that no one in this world is looking out for me, and the only person who can protect me is myself. Learning on my feet was a skill I quickly acquired.

Shortly after living in my first abusive foster home, I learned to stash food any and every chance I got. If I got a treat at school, I would tuck it into my pocket to save and take home for a time when I would need it.

That was one of many things I would come to realize about the real world we live in. I became so closed off and guarded that when I moved into my final foster home at sixteen, under the guardianship of a sweet elderly woman named Cheryl, I didn’t know how to relax, and I didn’t know how to trust her.

She bathed me in compliments and promises, and I didn’t believe a single one of them. I couldn’t. It would be like setting myself up for failure when she would inevitably turn on me.

But over the course of my first year with her, she earned my trust. She showed me I could just be a kid in her home. I could relax and switch out of fight or flight mode. I didn’t have to keep secret stashes of food; I could go into the pantry whenever I pleased. For the first time in years, I didn’t have to sleep with one eye open.

There wasn’t a lock on my bedroom door to keep me inside until she decided she was ready to tolerate me for the day. I was free to move about the house when I wanted.

She was the greatest person I’ve ever known and ever will. Since she came into my life, I’ve wanted to do better and be better. I want to be successful and make her proud. Even if she’s no longer alive to see it.

She picked up this tattered and cruel teenage boy from the dark trenches where the world spit him out and saw through the anger and coldness. Cheryl was selfless, kind, and generous to a fault. I know that without her, my life would look drastically different.

But because of her, and only her, I’m finishing up my last year at Saint Eldritch University. She would have loved to see this, to see the dreams we imagined together coming true.

The beautiful and foggy Saint Eldritch is tucked away in the deep pine forests of Massachusetts, the nearest town of significant size being over two hours away. So, thankfully, they have everything I could need.

The shops and homes all have unique designs with character, and no expense seems to have been spared for their architecture. Trees decorate the land, lining the dark concrete sidewalks. Everywhere you look, something new is there to mesmerize you. Sometimes this place seems too good to be true. Tooperfect. In my defense, anything I’ve ever experienced that was too good to be true ends up being just that.

This town has been my home for the last six years, two spent with Cheryl and three and a half in dorm rooms and eventually an apartment.

After Cheryl passed, I was all alone with two thousand dollars to my name. All I had were the dreams we discussed together—I would go to school, get a reliable job, and focus on the good in the world instead of always dwelling on the bad.Which is exactly what I’ve done since we said goodbye.Nothing will stand in my way of honoring her and the plans we made.

The two thousand dollars I had dried up pretty quickly. To make money on the side, I started a part-time job on campus in the library.

After all, reading has always been my true passion, and I dreamed of maybe writing one day. But that was the opposite of reliable income, never knowing if people will be interested in your work. So I pursued finance instead. I don’t really enjoy it, but I’m good at it.

As my schoolwork became more demanding, I left my job at the library. I was frugal enough with my money that I’ve saved up enough to go without a job for my final semester of school, allowing me to focus all of my effort into my studies My goal for myself with a little extra time on my hands is to start running new routes and exploring more during my late-night runs. Typically, I run the same four-mile path every single night. But lately, I’ve been wanting to try something new.

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