Children Of The Damned

Eliana

The hot water of Damon’s showerhead pounding on my sore body felt good as it washed away the blood and grime of the last 36 hours.

I found that I was spending more and more showers watching blood swirl down the drain, and I wondered how many more times I would do the same thing. Of course, I had made my decisions and was never going to go back on them, but I found at times that I missed the safe boring life I had before the fear and all the pain.

I wrapped a clean, white towel around my body and stood in front of the bathroom window, studying my reflection. No physical evidence remained on my body of what Richard had done to me. Part of me wished I could have just healed normally somehow. What had happened to me meant something. I had survived, and should bear scars to prove it. But Damon had healed me, made me new again, washed away anything that I had as proof that the horrible night in the warehouse had been real.

I changed into some clothes I had left in Damon’s room, knowing that showing up at home with bloody clothes would not be acceptable. I put my hair in a careless bun and slipped my boots on over my jeans.

“If something happens, you can come back here,” Damon assured me.

“I don’t think I’ll be allowed to leave the house ever again, so I’m not sure if I can take you up on that offer.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him close to me, taking in the smell of him. “But you can feel free to come over. My window is always open to you,” I said, managing a laugh. He smiled into my hair, kissing my forehead.

“I love you.” His eyes sparkled in that way that never failed to make my stomach flutter.

“And I love you.”

_________________________________________

Damon dropped me off in front of my house, and I took several deep, steady breaths to prepare myself before I walked in through the front door, bracing myself for an attack that wasn’t quite as frightening as one from an angry vampire, but that was frightening enough to make my heart pound and my stomach tense.

The attack came sooner than I thought it would.

I heard the sound of heavy footfalls coming toward the foyer, and then my mother and father were standing in front of me, both in robes, their eyes bloodshot with matching bags under them, their hair in disarray.

“Where the hell have you been?”

And then I said the one thing no parent ever wanted to hear from their seventeen -year-old daughter.

“I was at my boyfriend’s house.”

“All night?” My parents asked in unison.

“Yes.”

And then the shit really hit the fan.