Apprehension
I've grown into a lovely young woman over the past twelve years. Just thinking that makes me shudder from holding in my laughter so it wouldn't echo across the lobby. My life basically started going down the tubes after what happened to me and the promise that was made.
My mother died and then my father soon after her. My life has been no need for celebration; I've pressed the razor to my wrist many times, but never had the courage to draw it across. I've clearly thought about ending the torture of memories of my mother's laugh and my father's sweet smile, but I couldn't bear to cause more pain to the remainder of my broken family.
I have my Aunt Kate, a woman version of my father, her unyielding aqua blue eyes, creamy skin color, and a shock of black hair except hers is shoulder length and pin straight. And seven-year-old sister, Sophie, she looks exactly like me except the aqua blue eyes and the wardrobe. She has pale almost translucent skin, curly dark brunette hair, extremely long eyelashes, and full lips.
My aunt is actually the reason why I'm back in this sanatorium – not as a patient – as an employee. Since my father died five years ago she is now the person who has to run the sanatorium. I've been stationed at the reception desk since I was fifteen, not by choice, obviously. Why would I want to come to the place where I met Henry Edwards – the vampire – I found out his name after rifling through the files finding only one escape, not discharge but escape?!
I sat back in my black uncomfortable faux leather chair lifting my Converse clad feet on the counter. They were black. I am what people around this town – that I reluctantly call home – call goth. I don't think so, but if I like black and am not the perkiest person on some days people seem to think that and it might be the fact that no one in this town ever wears black unless they're going to a funeral. Today isn't unlike any other day I'm sporting my dark washed ripped jeans, and black long-sleeved t-shirt and my long curly dark brunette hair was styled in its normal wet look.
As my eyes darted around the empty lobby, I began to have flashbacks of when I was five-years-old. "Open the door, Evie." I heard in my head and a shiver ran down my spine. I was so stupid. Then my aunt's shrill voice made me jump in my seat. "Evelyn Somers! Get your feet off of the counter!" I slid my sneakers off the marble with a squeak.
At five I was out the door walking home as the sun slowly sank over the horizon. The winter chill of a New England winter began to enter the air as it got darker. I normally loved the mile walk home – most people would dread it, but I take pleasure in the strangest things. I was by no means afraid of the dark I actually embraced it, it was so much better than light that nearly blinded me each morning as my aunt pulls back the curtains, but tonight I had a feeling I was being watched or followed or maybe both.
I looked around me and saw no one but it still caused me to gnaw on my fingernails that were painted black. I quickened my pace, but didn't run. I'm not going to act distressed that's just what that person wants. Anyway what's the worst that could happen? I could get murdered? I laughed inside well that didn't scare me so they'll have to do better than that.
In the back of my mind, the small part that held my need for self preservation urged me to move faster and kicked in adrenaline that I made my heart pump faster my feet kept their normal clumsy pace.