It had been nearly six years since the birth of her daughter and Alicia grew increasingly afraid of her. The child looked normal in every way but with the exception of the fangs that she had been born with. The child shunned the light of day and silently commanded the obedience of animals and humans alike. She was growing increasingly powerful with each passing day and was starting to show her independence.
Alicia had to teach her daughter at home because of the special circumstances. She did not want the world to hunt down and kill her child…a child that she knew was from a demon. The child did not have a taste for blood but she did possess strength that surpassed that of an average adult male. She also did not know, or even as, about her father.
'I want chocolate cake, Mother', she had silently commanded before putting her book down. She looked at her mother, blue eyes turning red. 'I want chocolate cake, Mother.'
Alicia heard the unspoken commands in her head. It was always this way. The child never spoke out loud to anyone.
'There is no chocolate cake, Marissa.'
Marissa bit her lower lip, drawing a trickle of blood. 'I want chocolate cake!' she shouted to her mother's mind. Her eyes were turning a deeper red. Suddenly she turned back to her book and made no more requests for chocolate cake. Alicia knew that this meant that the child wanted chocolate cake but was willing to wait for it. The waiting never lasts long, however.
* * *
Late that night, around 1AM, Marissa went upstairs and stood outside her mother's bedroom door. She heard voices in the room, only the voice of her mother was familiar. The other was a man's voice that she did not recognize. She stood outside the door and pressed her ear against it to hear the conversation better. She heard her mother moaning but somehow knew that the sounds were not from pain. She was tempted to enter but did not.
'Mother?' her mind asked.
'Your mother is busy Child', was the reply. It was the man that answered her, and he answered to her mind.
Marissa's blue eyes widened. It is a normal expression, but to Marissa, it was an expression that was rare. She went downstairs to the kitchen and got her a glass of milk and sat down at the kitchen table and waited.
She heard the noise they were making in the bedroom. She could 'read' her mother's thoughts and feelings, but it was as though the man in the room did not exist. She took a swallow of the milk and wondered why her mother was screaming when she felt good. In the child's mind, advanced that it was, she did not understand the feeling or meaning of an orgasm.
Three hours later Marissa heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Still sitting at the kitchen table, Marissa waited patiently to catch a glimpse of the man that spoke to her the way that she spoke. It was as though he knew she was there because he turned to her when he stepped off the bottom step. Her mother was not far behind.
'Marissa, honey, it's almost sunrise.'
Marissa did not acknowledge her mother. She stared at the tall man with the dark hair and eyes and a complexion that looked more than pale. Without a word, silent or spoken, she gulped the last of the milk and left the room without looking at either one of them.
'Honey, there is someone I think you should meet.'
Marissa knew this routine well. Her mother was a whore and she brought strange men home with her just about every evening. She had tried to encourage her daughter to watch, but Marissa had no interest in watching her mother fuck, or be fucked, by strange men. The man usually bolted when they found out about their toy's little surprise. Marissa knew they only wanted one thing from her mother and she was angry that the whore gave it to them.
'Marissa is a beautiful name'; the man spoke to her mind again.
Marissa looked up at him. The man and her mother stood smiling and she saw two puncture wounds on her mother's neck. She didn't understand.
'This is Nicholas…your father.'
Marissa's pale blue eyes widened again.
'You hear my thoughts, do you not?' he asked her mind.
Marissa didn't reply, just stood on the bottom step, staring at them.
'You are my beautiful daughter, Marissa.'
Marissa sighed and ran upstairs to her bedroom and quickly locked the door. She did not want to have a father, not one that would do that to her mother. Although Marissa hated what her mother was, she still loved her, even if the love was not returned. She sat on the floor in the corner of her room, hugging herself and rocking back and forth as if she were in pain. No sound came from her and her expression didn't change…there was no pain but there was fear.
A mist filled the darkened room and he appeared. Marissa closed her eyes and tried to close her mind to him. Nicholas stood in front of her, watching the child rock herself back and forth as though she were cold. He did not attempt to speak to her.
'Why did you hurt her?' Marissa asked his mind. She continued rocking.
