The Dragonfly

I am losing my mind.

The only thing I thought about was the dragonfly that would visit me every night.

I told it everything.
I spilled my heart out to it.
And imagine me, doing that for a bug.

I would talk to it like it was a person, like it was my best friend; or maybe a parent I longed to have.

They say you can’t miss what you never had.

I missed my mother.

I longed for her.

And it seemed no one cared about her, no one cared to even remember her. My father didn’t even care to remember her.
He was too busy with work and Margaret. He never paid attention to me.
It was as if he didn’t even want me anymore; except for one thing.

He only used me for leverage.
I would be used by my father so he could advertise his company.
What kind father was he?

prom n. – A night every girl dreams about; a ball or dance, as of a particular class at a school or college.

Yuck.
I’ve never dreamed about prom night. Nor did I want to go. Prom was a waste of time and I saw no reason why high school had them. Prom was a time where girls were allowed to act super prissy and no one would shun them. It was a time where guys would try and take advantage of their date and attempt to get laid.
No one was laying me.
No one was going to the prom with me.

Or so I thought, before I met Gregory Thompson.

I was going to be forced by my father to go to this unnecessary dance with one of the filthiest boys on the face of the planet.

“You look dazzling.” Jessi smiled placing a pin in my hair.

“I’ll find some was out of it.” I grumbled. Jessi sighed and placed another pin in my hair; which, by the way, was being very uncooperative today. The doorbell suddenly rang.
And instead of bringing butterflies in my stomach, it sent my stomach upwards; to my mouth.

“That’s disgusting.” Jessi groaned staring at the puddle of mush in front of her feet, “now I’m going to have to clean that up when you’re gone.” I chuckled, the taste of chicken and orange juice still evident in my mouth. I nearly felt bad for making the old woman clean up my mess, “Why does he gross you out so much?”

“You have no idea.” I frowned. I heard my dad kindly greet the pudgy demon outside my doorstep.

“Zoey! A young man is here to see you!” Frank called out. He was barely a young man. He was more like an immature bastar-

“Go on.” Jessi encouraged, “who knows, you might actually think its fun.”

“Fun.” I repeated. Yeah right. Prom was going to be a blast.
Greg would be lucky if he made it out alive tonight.
I’m planning his death at the moment.

The journey down to the front door was one of the most painful things I’ve ever experienced…besides burning up in the sun of course. Frank had already opened up the door for the elephant.
I didn’t know what was more disgusting; Greg’s combed over hair that made him look like Donald Trump or his olive green tuxedo. And we all know what the color green reminds us of…must I say it again?

“Hello Zoey.” he sighed lovingly. I stared wide-eyed at the moron.

”What evil have I done to make him love me?” I asked myself. Maybe it was my dress, which was shorter than the average prom one.

It was black, and I know what you’re going to say.
”Oh how original. A black dress for the vampire.”
Shut up.
Black is my favorite color.
And I deserve to torture the guy a little because he knows he’s not getting any. Ever.

“I hope you two have a lovely time at the prom!” Frank said cheerily as he shoved us out the door. And do you know what happened when he shoved us out the door?
I’ll tell you what happened when he shoved us out the door.

My dad purposely, I know he did, pushed me causing me to involuntarily fall into Greg’s arms. I nearly puked again, not that that would be a horrible idea. His faux black snake skin shoes needed to be covered up.

You may say, ”Oh well it’s not that bad.”

Eh-hem. Yes it is.

The guy smelled like bologna and old people…old people as in grandma’s disgusting smelling perfume she’s convinced it smells delightful. His smell was not the only factor in me almost regurgitating; his hands were hot and sweaty. And he wouldn’t let mine go because he needed to “escort” me to the car, which was a “polite” thing to do. A “polite” thing to do is to let my hand free from your clammy one and let me go home and sulk in peace.

I think the only good thing about this Gregory Thompson character was that he had a pretty nice car. It was a white 1956 Corvette; sure it was old, but I was in love with vintage cars for some reason. They had way more character than cars made these days.
But alas, good cars can’t make everything better. I guess he had to ruin its dignity and play really cheesy 80’s music. And not any ordinary 80’s music; nope, it was on some random radio station playing one of its “specials”. And guess what its topic was.
Romancing Your Loved One With Groove

This made me want to throw up again. Again, why hasn’t God killed me yet?

“Greg, stop the car. I feel sick.” I attempted saying without actually throwing up in the car.

“We’re almost to the school though!” he whined.

“Are you whining? Did you not just hear what I said? STOP THE DAMN CAR AND PULL OVER!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. The anger that I had stored up inside of me burst out full throttle. It was the anger that I kept from my dad, from Dr. White, from everyone who thought I was abnormal, and especially from Greg. The guy who I am forced to be in a car with, driving to prom.

I had never been this angry before, but it felt right finally to let it all out. Greg pulled over almost immediately into some random ally way and something unexpected happened. Like in a nightmare something black and strong crashed through the window that was on Greg’s side and ripped his disgusting head off. Blood and glass where sent everywhere in the car. Surprisingly I wasn’t scared. In fact, I wasn’t scared at all. I wasn’t scared when the black thing started to suck the blood out of its prey’s arm. I wasn’t scared when the blood sucking thing disappeared suddenly and appeared right outside my window searching for a way in.

I was as happy when it opened the locked passenger door without trouble and pulled me out of my seat; because when I looked in the vampire’s eyes something felt oddly familiar, like a home is supposed to feel like after you’ve been somewhere else for a while.
I was at home, I was ok, I was safe for the first time in my life. I smiled involuntarily because of the joy that instantly replaced my anger. And to imagine the horror I felt when the vampire that had the strongest hold on me turned into dust as a wooden stake stabbed him in the heart from the back. The dust fell like sand to the asphalt only more gracefully than I can explain.
I stared at the pile for a minute or two and looked upward to search for the vampire’s killer…

“Isn’t it like against Vampire Rules to kill other vampires?”

“Sweetie, vampires were born to break the rules.”