Thy Kingdom Come: A Reverse Harem Vampire Romance

Chapter Two

My decision to leave the orphanage assaults my mind with memories, even though it cemented a turning point in my life that has since altered who I am as a person.

Capturing the full understanding of exactly what I am and why everyone fears me is going to be the challenge of the century.

To this day, I remember how my heart didn’t beat… didn’t even flutter or get trapped in my throat as I got caught fleeing the concrete prison that was St. Patrick’s.

* * *

“Where are you running to, Wednesday?” a snotty voice asked behind me.

I hated when people called me Wednesday. Stopping in my tracks, I turned my head and looked over the curve of my backpack at the scowling redhead. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her eyes glaring at me in question.

I didn’t respond and just kept on walking. My straight, black hair whipped around in my face, and I knew if I didn’t get the f**k away from this place, I’d seriously lose my mind.

I had just turned sixteen a few hours before, and the laughter from the nuns as I mentioned the idea of cake still echoed in my mind.

“Sister Frances!” Red hollered. Her voice was loud… too loud… echoing off the cold stone walls that surrounded us.

I didn’t stop. I’d die before I’d stop. Instead, I ran for dear life, mentally preparing to scale the seven-foot iron fence in a matter of seconds. I was already tired… my heaving breaths coming in waves. It wasn’t like the nuns of St. Patrick’s made sure we exercised unless you counted scrubbing floors a kind of workout.

Still, my heartbeat was nearly nonexistent. I’d lost my heart a long time ago.

With a huff, I swung the backpack off my shoulders and threw it over the spiked iron of the fence with a loud thunk. I looked at the long, black poles that made up the barrier to separate the real world from my soul. The shrill hollering from behind me told me I had no time to hesitate.

Using the worn tread of my tennis shoes, I took a running start and struggled my way up the side of the fence, my hands digging into the spikes at the top of the cold metal. The grunt of pain that left my lips didn’t even sound like me as I kicked my legs over and dropped to the sidewalk on the other side.

Long, spindly fingers reached for me, grabbing a handful of my hair through the gaps in the fence and holding on tight. I screamed in pain and clutched at the nun’s wrist. Regardless of the agony that radiated from the hair pulling out of my scalp, I couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast of her pale skin against my raven hair. The difference was oddly calming to me.

Without effort, my blood-covered palms made just enough purchase to wrench her arm the wrong way, causing her to let go and grind out a rather unholy curse from her lips.

I backed away, my breath coming out unnaturally slow considering how far I’d just pushed my body. Sister Frances was still reaching for me, strands of my black hair dangling from her white fingers.

Evil reflected back at me, and I was damn near sure she would’ve ripped out a chunk of my throat with her gnashing teeth if I hadn’t struggled away.

“Tesla!” she screamed. “Get back here!”

I didn’t bother to hide my grin of triumph—triumph that I’d escaped the hands of the devil—as I scooped up my bag and sauntered away from that orphanage, never to return.

* * *

To this day, I consider my escape to be the happiest moment of my life. My happiness was short-lived at the time, but I still wouldn’t have it any other way. I would never take my actions back. Leaving was, and still is, the best decision I’ve ever made. I still remember just how miserable I was living with those people and the misery that continued to stem from being rejected by countless foster homes across the city.

Of course, all it takes is a few weeks sleeping under bridges and bathing in gas station sinks to move from one nightmare to another.

Earlier today, I chucked fifteen dollars of the hundred I’d made the previous night on a glorious steak from the nearby grocery store. Yes, it’s pretty stupid of me to spend so much money on a hunk of meat, but I’m hungry and my stomach isn’t having it any other way. The small tabletop grill I have on my porch was perfect to sear the outside of the meat just to my liking.

I can’t satiate my hunger anymore with ramen noodles and frozen pizzas. The ravenous feeling pumping through me as the steak sizzles on the grill’s grate is enough to make me want to lunge into the fire after it while still raw. But here I stand, waiting rather impatiently, because I know how very good it’s going to taste once it’s tough on the outside and so very juicy and moist on the inside. My teeth clamp down on my tongue, my mouth filling with saliva as I wait.

Watching the flames lick through the slats of the grill has my mind wandering before I can stop it. I spend many of my waking hours avoiding my past, trying to forget and not reminisce about my childhood.

I have no memories of my parents. They’d abandoned me shortly after I was born—at least that’s what all the caseworkers have told me. The only fond memory I have of one of my foster homes is a woman who made a career of fostering children. She always insisted on pairing meat with a side of some sort… most of the time pasta or potatoes. Still, no matter how thankful I was for her home-cooked meals, she grew sick of me within a matter of weeks, shipping me back to the orphanage without a second glance in my direction.

Fuck sides.

A nicely cooked steak is plenty for me.

As I am pulling my steak off the grill, shutting the small gas tank off and practically drooling over the smell before I can bother to sit, I look down into the parking lot and see a man. He is slender, his teeth almost glowing in the moonlight as he smiles up at me.

I have a strong suspicion it’s the same man who was calling my name the night before. He doesn’t look familiar to me, and I can’t help but wonder how he knows my name.

“Not sure why you’re avoiding me, sugar.” His voice is just above a normal tone, and I can’t help but glance around the area to make sure no one else can hear him. “But you should let me come up and enjoy that lovely dinner with you. You’re too pretty to eat alone.”

The glare I shoot his way should be enough to chase off a child, but I am unsure of its potency on an adult until I see the fear in his eyes—the same fear that was reflected in that nun’s face so many years before.

“f**k,” he mutters. “Never mind then.”

Without another glance in my direction, he walks away, shoving his hands into his pockets as he meanders into the shadows around the corner of the building.

At least my scare tactics are good for something.

“Good riddance,” I mumble.

I honestly don’t need losers hanging around. Hell, I’m not even happy with my own company. So having others I don’t like hanging around and bleeding me dry isn’t exactly my idea of a good time.

Then again, I can’t think of anything I would consider a fun activity. I don’t have friends. I don’t have family. I don’t have a life outside of work.

But, what I do have is my life. For so long, I lived a life that wasn’t my own. Now, I can confidently say I own me… no one else but me. To be free from the confines of that orphanage and the people who ran it is all I’ve ever wanted—hell, it’s something I still want in my life over anything else.

Freedom.

The only shackles restricting me now are the consumptions of survival.