The Vampire Hunter's Daughter by Wright Jennifer Malone

Author:Wright, Jennifer Malone [Wright, Jennifer Malone]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Fantasy, Young Adult, Vampires
Published: 2011-08-09T16:00:00+00:00

***

I lay in bed for a long time without sleeping. I kept thinking of the guy who called himself my grandfather as ‘the old man.’ I didn’t want to call him ‘grandpa’, but I didn’t know what his name was, so that only left ‘the old man.’

The room they had put me in was a bedroom. It was obviously a girl’s bedroom. There was a dark purple comforter on the bed, and the curtains were the same color. A large dresser pushed up against one wall had an old-fashioned oval mirror in the corner beside it. I saw an open door on another wall that I assumed was an attached bathroom.

The possibility of a bathroom almost painfully reminded me that I hadn’t peed at all since I woke. Slowly, I lifted myself into a sitting position. My arms screamed out in pain and refused to support me. Pushing the covers aside, I placed my bare feet on the hardwood floor and immediately wished I had some socks. The floor was freezing.

After a slow shuffle to the door, I discovered it was, indeed, a bathroom. Thank goodness.

On the way to the toilet, I had passed the mirror and immediately wished I hadn’t looked. My image was hideous. My eyes were all sunken in and dark underneath, my hair was all matted and greasy, and the handprint bruises on my arms were beginning to do that thing where they turned green and yellow. I had several bruises on my legs too. I noticed them after I sat down to pee.

When I came out, I decided to be nosy and look around the rest of the bedroom. Maybe the dresser had some socks in it. I opened one of the drawers and found a ton of socks in various colors. I chose a plain white pair for myself and shut the drawer.

One of the picture frames on top of the dresser caught my eye. I picked it up to get a closer look. There, sitting on a bench beside an older woman and staring at the camera, was a girl about my age. As a matter of fact, she looked so much like me that she could have been me.

My mother.

I couldn’t help it. I burst into tears and sobbed like a two year old. I rubbed my hand over the picture and let my tears fall. I wanted to see her again so badly. Knowing that was never going to happen was more than I could bear. My legs lost their strength, and I fell onto my knees, still holding the picture.

I hated those who had her killed. I can’t say for sure I had ever really hated anyone before. Without a doubt, I was going to avenge her and kill that man they all claimed was my father. He would never have me on his side.

She died saving me. How am I supposed to live with that kind of guilt?

I missed her so much already.

The bedroom door opened. I didn’t want anyone to see me sobbing on the floor.

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