Chapter Text
The bus lurched as it hit a pothole in the road, and Drew felt like she was going to throw up every drop of tequila in her stomach. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to focus on her breathing, trying to keep her mouth closed as tight as she could while letting the tiniest stream of air in and out. She released a sigh of pain through her nose and gripped the cold metal armrest of her seat, shivering as the nausea tried to unravel her. By the grace of luck and determination, she did not vomit. There had already been far too much vomit that night for her liking.
Blood. Not her own, but the vomited blood of someone else. Drew could hardly remember his name. Was it John? Maybe Tom? It didn't really matter. They had met at the bar, where she was celebrating her birthday. Her brother, Adrian, had been there with her tonight, toasting to her 21st. He was the only one in their family of three that had bothered to celebrate her birthday, and it had always been that way. Their mother was often drunk on both of their birthdays, but on Drew's, she was long gone before they could even exchange a "good morning", let alone a wish of "happy birthday" that never came.
Drew tried not to think about her mother when she wasn't around. Between her mother and the memory of her latest failed sexual venture, she would much rather be swamped in the thoughts of the latter. The man was tall, dark, and handsome, and that was all he needed to be. She wasn't looking for love, she was looking for a drunken fuck in the bathroom of the bar. To get rid of her pesky virginity once and for all. It clung to her like a curse, her desires left overwhelmingly ignored. It wasn't for lack of trying. Ever since she had hit puberty, her sexuality growing into her body, she wanted the love of a boy. Many tried to give her their heart and more, but it's true; she was cursed. And the man in the bar suffered a similar fate to the others.
Not outright death. No, never that bad. But something that was enough to keep the two from consummating their relationship. When she was fifteen, she tried to give a blowjob to a fellow classmate in a storage closet of the band room. But before his swollen skin could touch her lips, he had suddenly become terrified at the sight of her. He had pushed her off of him and stuffed himself back into his pants, rushing out of the closet like he was being chased by a phantom. That boy could not look directly at her for the rest of the year, and never spoke to her again. Since it had been the first time, Drew had brushed it off as a quirk. Perhaps he really was scared of physical intimacy, maybe he was gay and had only just realized it in that moment. Maybe the shame, regardless of the circumstance of the sexual encounter, was too much for him to bear. In any case, it wasn't a setback for Drew.
The next boy didn't fare better. He had taken her on a date to a fast food restaurant, and the two had sat outside, chatting and joking and eating as the Miami sun set. It had been a quaint little date for a couple of rabblerousing teenagers. When they tried to fuck in the back of his car, he too fell ill, vomiting up the food they had just eaten all over her chest and lap. While Drew was furious in the moment, she returned to the boy later on and assured him that the accident did not chase her away. She still wanted him. But the boy didn't want her anymore, and just looking at her seemed to make him gag.
Boys falling ill or becoming overrun with fear became the norm whenever she tried to seal the deal. Her desire for a spark of pleasure in the sea of her loneliness never wavered, even as the chances of her ever achieving an orgasm with another living person seemed to dwindle down to zero.
The ache of the loneliness that she carried around in her body manifested in several ways. A mix of chronic pain and undying escapist lust. For years, she has felt like she was going in and out of heat, practically soiling herself with her own slick desire. She could feel it driving herself mad, like a perverted ticking time bomb. She wasn't quite sure what would happen when it came time for her to explode. Drew was adapt at pleasuring herself, but it was simply not enough. She wanted the large weight of another person, the feeling of skin against skin, to simply lie back and take the unwavering lust of another into her body. It was like being starved, her appetite crippling. The ache of the loneliness.
But that night, on her birthday, she was determined. Drunk and determined to defy her luck, and fuck to her heart's content. That didn't happen. All seemed well when the two were grinding on the dance floor, feeling each other up and swapping sloppy kisses. They had made their way to the bathroom, where the man had set Drew on the sink, pushing her dress up and off her hips. But just as he pulled his cock out into his hand, he froze. Disappointment ate bitterly at her heated flesh; she didn't bother to ask him if he was alright, as she knew that he wasn't going to be. Luckily for her, he was able to lean into the sink beside her and vomit into it. She had expected liquor and maybe his dinner to be in the sink, but it wasn't. It was blood. Deep red, thick blood.
Drew had screamed, which prompted a pair of girls to kick open the door, one grasping pepper spray and the other holding her purse back like she was ready to start swinging it. Instead of a struggle, they found the helpless man vomiting into the sinks as Drew pet his back and called 911. Once the lights of the ambulance began reflecting into the club through the door, Drew bailed. She hadn't even thought to look for Adrian, for her disappointment had become all consuming and depressing. He found her instead, chasing her down the sidewalk as she headed to the nearest bus stop.
"Drew!" he called, catching up to her despite his drunken stupor, "I think somebody was ODing in there!"
Drew shook her head, rubbing her bare arms as they approached the bus bench. She sat down, her eyes lingering on the sidewalk as her thoughts swirled.
"It was that guy who bought me a drink," she said bitterly, "We tried to fuck in the bathroom. Guess what happened?"
"He threw up?" Adrian said, collapsing on the bench beside her, trying to stifle his laughter.
Adrian was usually more sympathetic to his sister, but couldn't resist the dark humor of the routine failure of her conquests.
Drew noticed a fleck of blood on her exposed knee. She felt her eyes become heavy with tears, and let them fall. It was a regular occurrence for her to cry on her birthday, after all. How she thought she could squeak through this year’s birthday without a crying spell, she didn't know. Adrian became silent, simply setting his hand on her shoulder as she trembled gently, her smoky makeup melting down her cheeks.
The bus arrived, and Adrian silently paid for both of their fares. Embarrassed, Drew wiped her eyes on her arms, leaving wet black streaks on her pale skin. Adrian continued to say nothing. Normally he had words of comfort to give her, or at least a joke to add some levity to how she was feeling, but not tonight. He found himself at a loss of words at her loneliness. He was a square jawed biker, and never had to struggle with love like she had. At least not physical love.
The bus approached Adrian's stop by his apartment complex.
"I'm sorry," was all he could muster as the bus slowed to a stop.
He pet her arm one last time, kissed her head as he got up, and left.
Now she was on her way home alone. Drew hoped with all her might that her mother would be asleep when she arrived home. She was not.
Drew knew she appeared a wreck as she made her way from the bus stop to her own apartment that she had shared with her mother. Adrian had lived with them too, but not for a few years now. He had grown up, leaving Drew behind to face their mother alone. Drew had begged Adrian to take her with him. She felt that their mother hated them both, and was sure that she would be happy to see them leave simultaneously. This couldn't had been further from the truth; not their mother's hatred, but her willingness to let Drew go. When Adrian offered to take her off of their mother's hands, she screamed at him that he would do no such thing. Adrian didn't like fighting with their mother, and had never seen her resort to screaming as fast as she did then, so he had let the matter drop.
Without Adrian in the house, all of their mother's unfiltered disappointment in her children and her own life choices poured out into her. Their mother had always been difficult. Drew couldn't recall a single day of her life that wasn't plagued by darkness. To her, it felt like she was suffering through something, waiting for something to change. She felt powerless to enact this change herself, for even when she tried, she could not escape the reaches of her mother. She had gotten a job out of high school at a makeup counter, trying to save up for her own place. Her mother shut this idea down as well, going as far as physically locking Drew in her room when she became too unruly for her mother to handle. She had even found a way to siphon away money out of Drew's account, even when she had switched to entirely different banks.
Drew didn't understand it. If her mother despised her so much, why would she not let her go?
Why won't she let me go?
As she fumbled to put the key into the lock, she could scarcely remember ever feeling this low. She closed the door behind her and walked past Adrian's empty bedroom, which had since been filled up with a ton of their mother's junk. Books and tomes of all shapes and sizes, often leather bound. Crystals, idols, enough junk to fill several altars to several ancient deities. Yet, they had never seen their mother practicing any of it. It just sat around, collecting dust.
In the dark kitchen, her mother sat awake at the small dinner table. Her sharp face was only illuminated by the tip of her cigarette as she took a drag, toying her fingers around the stem of a martini glass with her other hand. Her hair was dyed blonde, her jaw squared and her eyes a deep shade of brown. The family resemblance was clear in appearance, but the maternal instinct had been entirely absent from their relationship. Their bond only went skin deep, if that. Her mother held herself in a distinguished way, a former teenage runaway cloaked in a socialite's dressage. Drew often thought of her like a jungle cat. Her home was an endless wilderness where a predator prowled, her body and soul always at risk of attack.
Drew stopped in her tracks, getting a sick feeling in her stomach. Her drunkenness had faded a bit, and it was the air itself around her mother that felt thick with tension.
"Mom?" she asked in a quiet, shaky voice.
Her mother was smiling.
"Tomorrow morning," she said, wafts of smoke swirling from her lips, "You and I are going on a trip. And we aren't coming back."
This is it, Drew thought, She's going to kill us both. A murder-suicide. I should've known.
Her mother must've sensed her about to break into tears again, and she sat forward abruptly.
"Transylvania," she said plainly, as if it were obvious, "We're being escorted."
Now Drew was scared and confused.
"What are you talking about?" she asked, her voice gently shaking.
"The only reason you're not an abortion rotting in a dumpster," her mother said, taking another drag in the middle of her sentence (she always did have a flair for the dramatic), "Is because of what's waiting for us there."
Drew shook her head, only having more questions.
"Your future husband," she said softly. It was the softest words she had ever spoken to her. "My Maker to be."
"My husband?" Drew asked, implying her mother’s derangement with the question.
Her mother ashed her cigarette.
"It's time I explained some things to you," she admitted, "When I first found out I was pregnant with you, I was outraged. Your brother was already a bigger handful than I could manage. Two little bastards running around? I never wanted to be a mother in the first place."
"Tell me something I don't know," Drew said bitterly.
"Don't talk," her mother said, annoyed.
She continued.
"For years, I prayed and pleaded for power," she said, "Begged anything in the universe that would listen, to choose me. To bestow upon me the gifts of a witch, a high priestess-- whatever they were offering, I was willing to take. But not a single damned spirit answered. Except one."
She took a final few gulps of her martini, emptying the glass. She held the toothpick between her fingertips, looking at the three skewered olives.
"He said he could bestow upon me dark power beyond anyone's wildest imagination," she continued, "And he showed me. Proved to me the power that he possessed. The powers of a vampire, and more. I wanted it so badly, I promised him anything he wanted so that he would turn me. The only thing he wanted in return was you. Handed over to him as his bride upon your twenty-first birthday."
She's having a psychotic break, Drew thought, I don't want to have to call 911 twice in one night. Happy fucking birthday.
Her mother scoffed a laugh at the look that settled on Drew's face.
"You think I'm crazy."
"You're trying to tell me that you sold me off to a vampire," Drew nearly whispered into the dark.
"I did," her mother said plainly, a matter of fact, "And I don't regret it. Not for a single second."
Sickly silence hung in the air for a moment.
"I'm taking a shower," Drew said quietly, "And then I'm going to bed. G'night."
Her mother's eyes were tired, but her lips curled into a wide smile. Satisfaction wasn't a look that her mother often wore, and it made Drew uneasy. She was smug.
"Happy birthday, Drusilla," her mother said.
It was the first time she had ever said that.
After her late night shower, Drew collapsed into bed. Sleep called to her, and she was desperate to be rid of her thoughts of her mother's "confession".
Probably just trying to get a rise out of me, she thought, Just wants to fight me on my birthday, ruin it for me. Fucking bitch.
She tried to resist the anger, spreading out in bed under her cool covers, sinking into her lumpy mattress. She couldn't hold her eyes open anymore, and she was able to get a few hours of sleep.
The next morning, she was awoken by her mother throwing her bedroom door open. Had she even slept last night? She was dressed well, a fashionably cut white sweater and dark jeans. In one hand she held a large suitcase, and shouldered her purse on the other arm.
"Get up, he's here!" she yelled.
Drew rubbed her eyes and rolled over in bed.
"Who, my vampire husband?" Drew asked sarcastically.
"No," her mother said angrily, "Herr Knock. He'll be taking us to him. Don't bother packing, just throw some clothes on and let's fucking go."
She walked out of the doorway.
Who the hell was she talking about?
In nothing but a tank top and her panties, Drew climbed out of bed with a groan, her head pounding gently. She stepped into the doorway of her room, leaning out. Down the hall, she spotted her mother waiting beside a short, stout, old man. His hair was white and balding, sticking out at odd ends. His clothes looked old fashioned and foreign, and Drew couldn't quite place where from. Knock's face lit up when he caught a glimpse of her.
"Oh, thank the Dark Lord!" he cried out in joy, "You weren't lying! She's a pretty one. He only cares for the pretty ones."
Drew stepped back into her room, freaked out.
What the fuck is going on?
She panicked, and went to grab her phone off of her nightstand. If she could call Adrian, or 911, maybe they could get both their mother and this new freak thrown into an insane asylum. But when she reached for her phone, her fingers grasped the shattered remains. Her mother had clearly taken a hammer to it while she was shackled to sleep by her drunkenness.
Drew reached into her purse, pushing through her belongings. She shoved her wallet and keys aside, along with an old lip gloss. She checked the cardboard cigarette case; empty. Still panicked, Drew looked around the room, trying to figure out what to do or what to take. Her eyes landed on her small desk, where a plushie from one of her childhood birthday's sat.
Adrian had stolen allowance money from a few classmates and bought her the plushie, a black cat with a purple witch hat. She had remembered that birthday fondly, as Adrian had agreed to play with her and her new treasure into the evening. She had named the plushie Wendy the Witch, gave her a personality and backstory, and her older brother had indulged her imagination for hours.
Adrian, she thought, He can help me out of this. All I have to do is figure out how to call him.
She took the plushie and fitted it into her purse.
She quickly dressed herself, throwing on a tight fitting band tee and acid washed jean shorts. She stumbled out of her bedroom while slipping on a pair of boots, and approached the door while pulling her tangled brown curls up into a ponytail.
"Can I at least brush my teeth before we go?" she asked with extreme annoyance, her heart racing with panic still.
"You'll have plenty of time to prepare yourself perfectly before the wedding, my Lady," Knock said pleasantly.
"Let's get this show on the road, now," her mother demanded.
Drew nodded obediently, and followed the two out into the morning light.