(BLUE’S POV)
Sofia smacked my arm so hard I actually flinched.
“Don’t you dare say that,” she scolded, eyes flashing with that no-nonsense look she always gave me when I was being dramatic.
I rubbed the spot, pretending to be offended, but honestly I was just glad someone was listening.
Jeremy let out a soft chuckle from where he sat on the old fallen log, like he’d heard this exact conversation a hundred times before.
“Your parents only want the best for you, Blue,” he said, voice calm and steady as always.
“Right now they think Margaret is that best choice.
But if you truly don’t want this marriage… then you have to help them see it.”
“I’ve tried!” The words burst out of me, frustration boiling over again.
“I’ve begged, I’ve explained, I’ve even cried once—nothing works!
They just keep saying ‘it’s for the family,’ like I’m some kind of bargaining chip.”
Jeremy raised one finger, patient as ever.
“You’ve tried yelling.”
I opened my mouth to argue… then snapped it shut.
“…Yeah.
Okay.
Fair point.”
“Perhaps,” he went on, still gentle, “you should try again without the yelling.
Speak from the heart, not from the heat.”
Sofia nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“And if that still doesn’t work,” she added, “we’ll talk to them ourselves.
Both of us.”
I blinked hard.
“You… would do that?
For me?”
“Of course,” Jeremy said, like it was the simplest offer in the world.
Just like that, the knot in my chest loosened a little.
The anger that had been chewing me up all morning finally eased off.
These two—they weren’t like any other adults I knew.
They didn’t lecture or scold or tell me to “grow up.” They actually listened.
They were the kind of people I wanted to be someday: free, wandering the world, coming back with stories that made everything else feel small.
They’d disappear for months at a time, then show up at our door smelling of distant forests and strange spices, laughing like the road itself was their home.
For the first time that whole awful morning, I felt something dangerously close to hope.
*******
I didn’t go straight home after that.
Instead, I stayed with Jeremy and Sofia.
They took me deeper into the forest than I’d ever wandered before—the trees grew tall and close, their branches knitting together overhead like a living green roof.
Sunlight filtered through in soft, dappled patches, and the air was thick with the scent of damp earth, pine resin, and wildflowers I couldn’t even name.
Sofia moved through the underbrush like she belonged there, pointing things out as we walked.
“This one,” she said, crouching to pluck a small bundle of leaves, “heals cuts faster than you’d believe.
Crush it and press it on.” She handed me another.
“This helps bring down fever.
And that tall one over there?
Good for stomach aches.”
I was soaking it all in, asking questions nonstop.
Then I spotted a strange cluster of deep-purple berries hanging low on a bush.
“What about these?
They look pretty.”
Jeremy’s hand shot out and slapped mine away before I could even touch them.
“Those,” he said cheerfully, “help you meet your ancestors.”
I stared at him.
“Wait… poison?”
“Very poisonous,” he confirmed, grinning like he’d just told me the weather.
For the next few hours they taught me everything they knew—how to read the forest, which plants were friends and which were enemies.
Jeremy even showed me how to hunt.
And when I say “showed me,” I mean he literally caught a rabbit with his bare hands.
One second the little thing was hopping along; the next, Jeremy was a blur of motion and had it tucked gently under his arm, still alive.
I stood there with my jaw practically on the forest floor.
“How in the world did you do that?”
He just winked.
“Trade secret, kid.”
Back then I didn’t question it.
I just thought they were the coolest people alive.
Looking back now… maybe I should’ve wondered a little more.
We spent the whole afternoon like that—gathering herbs, picking safe berries, learning how to move quietly through the trees.
By the time the sun started sliding toward the horizon, painting everything in warm gold, Jeremy pressed a neatly wrapped bundle into my hands.
Inside I could feel the weight of fresh meat, fragrant herbs, and a few of those safe berries.
“For your family,” Sofia said, her voice warm.
“Something good to come home with.”
Jeremy added a smaller, fancier bundle.
“And this one’s a little gift for your parents.
Might soften the conversation.”
I looked between them, genuinely surprised.
“You really didn’t have to—”
“Really,” Sofia cut in, smiling.
“But remember what we said.”
Jeremy pointed at me, mock-serious.
“Talk nicely to your father.”
I sighed the biggest, most dramatic sigh I could manage.
“Yes, yes.
No yelling.
No dramatic speeches.
I’ve got it.”
Jeremy grinned wide.
“See?
You’re already learning.”
I thanked them from the bottom of my heart, hugged them both, and finally turned toward home.
By the time I reached the edge of our land, evening had settled in soft and quiet.
The sky was streaked with deep orange and bruised purple, and the air carried that peaceful hush that always comes right before full night—crickets just starting to sing, the last birds calling goodnight.
Nothing in the world could have prepared me for what happened next.
I’d just stepped up to the front door when the screaming started.
Not shouting.
Not an argument.
Real, raw screaming—high-pitched, terrified, the kind that rips through your bones.
The bundles slipped from my fingers and hit the ground with a soft thud.
Without thinking, I snatched the thick wooden walking stick that always leaned against the wall by the door.
My heart was hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat.
Robbers, I thought.
It had to be robbers.
Sometimes desperate men came for houses like ours—wealthy enough to be worth the risk, far enough from the village to be easy targets.
I gripped the stick tighter, knuckles white, and shoved the door open.
My heart was slamming against my ribs like it wanted to break out as I bolted through the front door.
The house was too quiet—way too quiet—and that alone made my stomach drop.
The second I stepped inside, the air felt wrong.
Thick.
Heavy.
Like the whole place was holding its breath.
What I walked into wasn’t a robbery.
It was a slaughter.
They weren’t even human.
Not really.
At first glance, yeah, they could’ve passed for people—beautiful people, the kind you’d stop and stare at on the street.
Five of them: three men, two women.
All of them pale like porcelain, skin so flawless it looked airbrushed.
They moved with this eerie, fluid grace, like dancers who’d rehearsed the same deadly routine a thousand times.
But then they smiled… and everything shattered.
Long, needle-sharp fangs glinted behind those perfect lips.
And their eyes—God, their eyes.
Not just red.
Blood red.
Glowing, hungry, like fresh wounds staring back at me.
They weren’t talking to my family.
They were feeding.
A blonde woman had my dad pinned against the wall like he weighed nothing.
Her arm was iron around his throat, and her mouth was buried deep in the side of his neck.
I watched—frozen, helpless—as my strong, unbreakable father started to go pale right in front of me.
His face slackened.
His eyes fluttered.
It looked like she was sucking the life straight out of him, gulp by gulp, and he couldn’t even fight back.
Across the room, a tall, dark-haired man had my mom.
That same sick smile on his face, the one that made my skin crawl like spiders were marching up my spine.
He was doing the exact same thing—drinking her blood like it was wine.
Her hand twitched once, then went still.
My little sisters were already on the floor.
Just… lying there.
White as paper.
No rise and fall of their chests.
No sound.
My three brothers were sprawled beside them, limbs tangled, eyes open but empty.
The carpet underneath them was dark and wet.
I didn’t want to think about what that wetness was.
The world went completely silent in my ears.
I couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t scream.
Couldn’t do anything except stand there while my brain tried to catch up to the nightmare unfolding in my own living room.
And then something inside me cracked wide open.
All the fear burned away in a single heartbeat, replaced by this white-hot, blinding rage.
These things had taken everything.
My family.
My home.
Everything that mattered.
I didn’t think.
I didn’t plan.
I just charged.
I grabbed the old wooden walking stick my grandpa had left by the door—the one I used to swing around like a sword when I was little—and I swung it with every ounce of fury in my body.
It cracked against the blonde woman’s head like a baseball bat hitting a home run.
The stick shattered.
Splinters flew everywhere.
She didn’t even flinch.
Slowly, almost lazily, she turned her head toward me.
Those blood-red eyes locked onto mine.
Not a scratch on her perfect skin.
Not even a hair out of place.
She looked… amused.
Before I could even open my mouth, her hand shot out and clamped around my throat.
Her fingers were like cold steel.
She lifted me clean off the ground with one arm, my legs kicking uselessly in the air.
My vision started to tunnel at the edges, black spots blooming like ink in water.
She pulled me right up to her face.
Her lips were still slick and red with my dad’s blood.
I could smell it—metallic, warm, horrifying.
My own blood roared in my ears.
I tried to scream.
Nothing came out.
Then her fangs sank into my neck.
The pain wasn’t like anything I’d ever felt.
It was fire—liquid fire pouring straight into my veins, burning every nerve ending at once.
It felt like something was ripping me apart from the inside, piece by screaming piece.
My arms went limp.
My legs stopped kicking.
I could actually feel my blood leaving me in hot, rushing waves, like my life was being vacuumed out.
The room started to fade.
Colors drained away.
Sounds turned to static.
Everything went black.
I died right there in her arms.
And in the cruelest, most twisted joke the universe could ever play… my stupid, childish wish had finally come true.
I’d spent years wishing I wasn’t part of this family anymore.
Wishing I could just disappear, run away, be someone else’s kid.
Anything to escape the fights, the pressure, the feeling that I never quite belonged.
Now they were all gone.
Every single one of them.
And somehow, deep down in whatever was left of my soul, it felt like it was entirely my fault.
Like the universe had heard that selfish little prayer and decided to grant it in the most brutal way possible.
I got my wish.
I just never wanted it like this.