In the quiet corners of my memory, abandonment is the only thing that feels familiar.
I was seven when the foundations of my world fractured; my father left for the sun-drenched shores of Barcelona, taking my little sister, Nathalie, with him.
He left my mother and me behind with nothing—not a single penny to her name and a heart heavy with the weight of being unwanted.
I watched Mom struggle for years, her hands worn and her spirit tested, yet she always ensured I had what I needed.
Now that high school is behind me, the roles have shifted. It is my turn to be the pillar.
Amidst the quiet moments, I often wonder if Nathalie remembers the brother she left behind, or if my father has successfully scrubbed our existence from her mind.
"Luke!"
The sharp call of Miss Amy broke my reverie. She is our neighbor, a fiercely independent journalist who stepped into our lives like a secular angel when Mom was diagnosed with cancer.
She didn't just offer sympathy; she paid the bills that would have drowned us and guided me through my final years of school.
Currently, I'm staying with her while Mom is in the hospital.
"I'll be down in a second!" I shouted back.
I descended to the kitchen to find Amy hovering over the stove.
"Good morning, Miss Amy," I said.
"Morning, sleepyhead," she replied, a playful glint in her eyes.
"I'm making garlic soup."
I wrinkled my nose in genuine disgust.
"Eww... really? That's revolting."
She let out a bright laugh.
"Gotcha. It's spaghetti and sauce."
"Phew. For a moment there, I thought you'd actually lost it."
As we sat for breakfast, the weight of the hospital hung over me.
"Do you have news concerning my mom?" I asked.
"She's alright, Luke. There's no need for you to worry," Amy said, her voice steady and reassuring.
"Do you have plans today?" she asked as she prepared to leave.
"I'm going to the hospital to sit with Mom. And you?"
"I need to handle some things back at the office," she replied, her expression momentarily distant.
She paused at the door, her gaze turning unusually serious.
"I might not be home early tonight. Do you remember what we talked about?"
I rattled off the rules like a mantra.
"Yes. Rule one: lock all doors. Rule two: don't open the door for anyone at night, not even you. And last but not least... always sleep with garlic."
"You're such a good boy," Amy said, reaching out to run her fingers through my hair.
"Do I really need the garlic, Amy? I hate the smell."
"You have to, Luke. It's for your safety," she insisted, her tone leaving no room for argument.
I spent the day at the hospital, holding Mom's hand. We talked about the future—about me finding work to help with her recovery.
She smiled, her eyes brimming with tears as she told me how lucky she was.
"I thank God for Amy," she whispered.
"I pray she is rewarded for her kindness."
I returned home as evening fell, the house feeling vast and hollow in Amy's absence.
By 8:00 PM, the doors were barred and the windows latched.
I ate dinner, did the dishes, and tried to lose myself in a movie.
It was a sentimental drama, and I found myself weeping into a bowl of popcorn, letting out the emotions I kept bottled up for Mom's sake.
I eventually drifted into a restless sleep, only to be jolted awake at 12:30 AM.
Thud.
A noise came from downstairs. My heart hammered against my ribs. It couldn't be Amy; she had been adamant about the rules.
I tiptoed down the stairs, the air feeling unnaturally cold.
In the living room, a man stood silhouetted against the moonlight, dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit.
"W... who are you?" I stammered.
"Ah, Luke. It is truly a pleasure to meet you," he said, his voice like velvet over gravel.
"How do you know my name?"
"Amy did a pretty good job of hiding you," he smirked.
"But secrets have a way of getting out. She is a witch, Luke.
A future queen of her coven... and it seems she hasn't told you the truth about her world. Or mine."
"Witch? What are you talking about?" I laughed, the sound brittle and panicked.
"You think it's a joke?" The man's face shifted.
His skin grew pale as marble, fangs elongated from his gums, and his nails sharpened into wicked points.
"I am a vampire, and you are far too precious a prize to leave in the hands of a witch."
Terror surged through me. I bolted for my room, scrambling to the drawer where I kept the garlic.
I thrust it toward him, but he merely chuckled, the sound chillingly hollow.
"Do you truly think a common bulb stops a hungry king?"
With a casual flick of his leg, he kicked me. I went flying, crashing through the living room window.
Glass shattered like ice as I landed hard on the grass outside.
He was on me in an instant, his cold hand crushing my windpipe.
"I would break your neck without thinking twice," he hissed.
Darkness began to edge my vision, but suddenly, a streak of white light tore through the yard.
Three women appeared as if from the shadows themselves, their hands weaving through the air as they chanted in a tongue that vibrated in my bones.
The man shrieked, releasing me as he was blasted backward.
"Luke!"
I heard Amy's voice, frantic and powerful, echoing from the porch.
I tried to look for her, but the world tilted, and everything went black.