Anchor

Part 3 - Home?

The scent of cherries dominated the car, wafting in my direction from his many dangling air fresheners. He drove a relatively smart, lime green 4X4. This was the second time I’d ever been in a car, the first was in the back of the police car- I turned on the radio, trying to drown out my thoughts once more.

“Where to?” he asked, reversing out of the car park.

“I was actually hoping you could take me by my house,” a lump surfaced in my throat, “I just need to grab a few bits.”

I watched as Stellan hesitated before turning left at the traffic lights. “Are you sure you wanna go back there? I can get one of the officers to pick some stuff up for you. Whatever you need.”

I nodded but If I was honest with myself; I wasn’t sure at all. But I knew I wouldn’t get far with just the clothes on my back. I needed cash, and my father had a stash hidden in an old cereal box. The rest of the drive was quiet but the tunes on the radio kept me occupied. As a kid I didn’t go outside very much but my dad would always bring me home new CDs before he decided it was better if I had an iPod, I didn’t complain. Backstreet boys was a big hit in my house, even my dad would dance around to it, albeit in a very dad dance way. 

            The car halted in the driveway but Stellan kept the ignition running. I froze. Remnants of barricade tape tied around a tree flew gracefully like a flag in the wind. Fear gripped me to my seat.

“Stellan…” I stared blankly at the house, “inside, is it - are they?” a lone tear dripped off my chin and splashed onto my leggings.

He reached over to the glove compartment to remove a pack of tissues. Though a watery haze clouded my vision, I noticed a handgun wedged behind some papers and a creased up tie. Stellan slammed the compartment door shut and placed the tissues on the dashboard. I couldn’t read him, the emotion hidden behind a beautiful facade. The day was now slowly dying and the moon had started to rear it’s daunting face.

“There’s nothing in there that can hurt you, not anymore,” he said warmly, as he turned off the engine. He escorted me across the garden. I had asked him to wait outside, I didn’t want a shadow, I needed to do this alone.  

The house smelt similar to the hospital, that strong smell of bleach and cleaning products. I knew my father’s body was gone but his presence hadn’t left. He was here, I could feel it. I ran straight to the kitchen and grabbed large plastic bag from the cupboard under the sink along with a small stool to help me reach the shelf with the cereal. There must have been hundreds of pounds in there. It wasn’t a secret that my dad didn’t trust banks, he didn’t trust anyone, apart from me.

Sudden static tugged at the hairs on my arms. A rustling noise sounded down the hall followed by the tell-tale creak of his bedroom floor. I wanted so bad for it to be him; desperation overtook all rational thoughts. Before I had time to really think it through I found myself wandering down the corridor. His door was ajar and an unfamiliar scent of aftershave crept into the hall, it was fresh and smelt like fresh rain and ginger.

Stellan wouldn’t wait outside for long, it wasn’t easy convincing him to wait in the first place. I pushed the door open further, hoping to return with one of my dad’s oversized jumpers. I walked straight to the bedside table, switching on the lamp, a dim glow painting the room a warm orange hue.

In my chest, my heart fought to break free, as the door to the bedroom closed behind me. “You’re a hard one to track down, princess.” the man said, his voice deep and radiating power.

I swallowed hard, turning in his direction, simultaneously stepping backwards to create as much distance between us as possible. His searing golden irises caught my attention first, leaving me somewhat mesmerised. An unlit cigarette sat comfortably behind his ear and there was a faint smell of smoke rising from his crisp white t-shirt.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” I mumbled, scanning the room for a quick getaway.

“On the contrary, my sweet, I believe this is exactly where I should be,” he replied, swiftly bridging the gap between us. A cold breeze caressed my nape as electricity formed in my veins. He smirked as if he knew what was coming next. Ducking under his bulging arms, I bolted for the door. The doorknob was within my reach. The cold metal twisted in my hand and was about to open, until my feet were no longer on solid ground. Large hands gripped my waist. “Don’t make it so easy,” he whispered in my ear, before launching me backwards onto the bed. The covers scrunched beneath me as I skimmed the mattress like a rag doll. He tucked his golden strands of hair behind his ear and climbed above me on the bed as I watched it sink under his fists.

            “Let me go,” I pleaded, seeming only to entice him further.

With his left hand, he brushed the hair from my face, his fingertips coarse against my cheek.

“There’s no point in spouting lies. You don’t really want me to let you go now, do you?,” he said with an air of arrogance. He threw both my arms above my head, tightly holding them still with one hand. I tried to struggle but as he towered over me, I felt helpless.

“Just take what you want and leave, please.” This wasn’t how I wanted to die. It was supposed to be on my terms, not like this.

            He smirked, something wicked in his expression, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take exactly what I came here for.” With is free hand, he reached down to my thighs pulling them apart and settling his legs between them. Not once did his gaze stray from my face. My cheeks blazed, feeling him slide up against my leggings. This was one of those nightmares that you woke up screaming from but found yourself wanting to go back for more.

“Shame really, I’d quite enjoyed your begging. Could have done with more of it,” a devilish grin stretched from ear to ear as pure dread washed over me. “Oh well, I’m gonna enjoy this more.” His lips parted and his face shot toward my neck. My skin melted away like butter beneath his fangs as he searched for a ripe vein. Unconsciously I arched my back, the pain more of dull ache. The man groaned against me, his hand slid under my arse, raising it so my hips met his. The urge to fight was dull, I knew it was wrong but I yielded under him, feeling the temperature inside me sink. I was sure I was dying, but in the darkest place in my mind, I felt at peace with it.

Outside the wind picked up pace, knocking the branches of the tree into the window. The man above me released my arms, feeling me go limp whilst his mouth drained me of my life-force. He retracted his fangs, pinching my chin to turn my face toward him. On his soft lips sat my blood.

“I don’t think I’ll ever taste anything so sweet.” His words sent a chill through me, brewing an unknown force. I didn’t go through everything I had to be fed upon like the weak, frail girl he assumed I was – that I assumed I was. If my father saw me now, he would be ashamed that I’d allowed myself to be picked off like this. With my remaining strength, I dragged my arm down to sit between our chests. My lips parted, watching his eyes drift lower, licking his lips in response. Softly, I ran my hand across his abs, feeling them through his shirt. Propping himself up on the arm previously clasping my behind, I knew the time had come, I couldn’t hold out much longer. A pulse of energy erupted from my palm, sending him crashing backwards into the wall.

After what felt like an eternity on that bed, my feet hit the floor with a burst of adrenaline and I ran. I called out for Stellan as my legs pumped faster.

The front door burst open and Stellan’s footsteps stomped closer.

He raced towards me; a menacing look spread over his face.  

“Kitty.” He shouted, running straight for me, arms open.

I pointed to my father’s room. “In there, he attacked me.”

I propped myself up on the shoe rack near the front door.

            “Stay here.”

Heat rose from my hand and I recalled the moment the first man had attacked me, something had called out to me that night, just like it had earlier. An inner strength I didn’t know existed. There were no plausible explanations. But then a man just had his teeth sunk deep in my neck, drinking my blood so I guess anything was possible.

            “He’s gone,” Stellan returned, his eyes dark. When he noticed the blood staining my hoodie, he paused. I stood still; my hand shot to my neck feeling the warm liquid coat my palm. It didn’t make sense. I watched his body collide with the wall; he should have been out cold. His hand reached out to mine, his grip loose. Delicately he peeled it away from my neck to assess the damage. I didn’t fight him on it. We were silent for a while but it wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward. He pushed my hair off my shoulder before letting out a sigh and I winced as he ran a finger over the punctures.

            “Where do you keep your first aid stuff?”

            “Kitchen cabinet, nearest the back door.”

We walked to the kitchen; our hands still connected. As he fumbled through cupboards until he found the right one, I pinched myself, always better to check if I'm stuck in a nightmare. Returning with some antiseptic wipes and a large blue plaster, he lifted me effortlessly onto the counter. After warning me it would sting, he cleaned away the dried blood. I hissed as it burnt but he didn’t miss a beat, finishing covering the wound.

            “Why does this keep happening? f**k, I just want to wake up and have everything go back to the way it was. I want my dad back. I want to feel normal again.” My body fell slack, everything hitting me at once.

I let my head rest on his chest, stopping myself from crumbling to the ground. All my worries slowly evaporated as his hands began wandering through my hair, stroking away my pain, and in that moment, I felt safe.