Page 2 of The Blood we Crave

I place my hand on my chest, rubbing my sternum, trying to release the pain that is throbbing there, but it does nothing for me. My small hands reach up, feeling the fabric of her clothes above me, and I desperately pull one of her sweaters from the hanger.

Wrapping myself around the soft, plush material like a blanket, I try to calm myself down. I press the sleeve into my nose, inhaling her familiar scent, deeply willing to try anything in order to avoid this feeling inside of me.

Through the slit in the door, I watch as she wraps a robe around her tall frame, tying the ribbon securely at her waist before she approaches the door. The moon reflects off the dark hardwood floors, following her like a spotlight. I hold my breath as I prepare to see her disappear into the hallway, but she doesn’t get a chance to even grab the knob.

The door is pushed open casually, like a soft gust of wind had bumped into it.

But it hadn’t been the wind.

Or a nocturnal animal that had wandered into our home.

No, the cause of the creaky floorboards is entirely human. A tall, demanding presence that sucks up all the space in the doorway. The moonlight strikes the intruder’s face, bouncing off his set jaw that seems to be made from stone. Maybe it’s because I’m so tiny, but I could have sworn he had to duck in order to step farther into the bedroom.

The feeling in my gut hadn’t been just a feeling at all. It had been him. I’d sensed it in my bones.

I feel his presence sweep across the room, seeping into the closet with me. An ominous, hazy mist gushes from his being. It pours out on the floor, soaking the room in fear.

Even though I’m young, a few short months from turning eight, I’m still an observant kid. So I know that he is not here for anything remotely good. The wordgoodtastes sour in my mouth as I gaze at him through the crack, as if it hates being in the same sentence as him.

There’s nothinggoodabout this person. Nothing at all.

“Wh-hat—” My mother’s naturally strong voice seems muted, void of her normal authoritative charm.

The man lifts one darkened eyebrow, peering down at her with such an impassive face. I can’t imagine he knows how to show any emotion. I’ve never seen someone with such blank features. Such impartial feeling, considering he’d just broken into my home and has the audacity to just stand there and stare at my mother as if he’d just seen her pass in the grocery store.

“What am I doing here?” He asks. “I thought it might be time to meet little Scarlett since we are getting serious. I mean, you know my secret now, don’t you, Phoebe?”

Confusion drowns me, so many questions swirling around my mind, making me dizzy. I’ve never met this man, nor even seen his face. I mean, I am homeschooled, so I spend a lot of my time here, but I do go out in town with Mom, and I’ve still never seen him. But he knows my name—he knows my mother.

“Scarlett isn’t here. Just like you shouldn’t be here, Henry. I have no idea what you’re talking about. Secret?” Her voice is steady as she takes a step back from him, but I can still hear the wobble in it, the uncertainty. “I told you the other day this has run its course. We are just too different. Your family has expectations, and I don’t plan on being a part of those.”

Why didn’t she tell me about him? Does she work with him? Are they friends? I’d thought I’d met all her friends and coworkers. I thought I knew everything about my mother, but it would appear that she, too, has secrets that even I didn’t know.

The sound of him clicking his tongue makes a chill race down my spine. Little goosebumps run along my arms, and I curl deeper into the smell of the sweater wrapped tightly around me.

“You remember what I told you when I first met you, Phoebe?” he asks, walking closer towards her, crowding her space as if he belongs there. “I hate liars, and you promised, with those big green eyes, that lying was the last thing you’d ever do to me.”

“I’m not—”

“You also know that I have friends. My family has friends. So if you were to walk into a local police station and file a report about me, about something you saw me doing, I’d know about it. But you wouldn’t do that, would you, Phoebs?” The way his head tilts makes her flinch like he’s reading into every little movement she makes, every single breath she takes.

“I wouldn’t—”

“You wouldn’t have done that, right? You wouldn’t do that and then lie to me?”

Her back is to me, so I can’t see the look on her face, but I do see the way her shoulders tense up as she continues to step away from him.

“What did you expect me to do, Henry? After what I saw, what did you expect?” she whispers as he prowls forward, the same way Swirl and Mocha corner their live mice. At any moment, he could strike, and with each step closer, I feel my heart drop a little more.

“We can get you help, okay? You can turn yourself in, and we can get you help.”

He ignores her entirely, the words she mumbles going in one ear and swiftly out the other.

“I trusted you, Phoebe. I became a better man for you. You told me there was nothing too dark for you to handle, and when I need you most, you turn on me? You run away?” One of his impossibly large hands snaps forward, lunging for her, and she isn’t quick enough to move out of striking distance.

I hear my mother gasp as she is yanked forward, landing hard in his arms. The brutal hold she’s locked in leaves her with nowhere to go. She is trapped, with no escape.

And I—

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