• I was nine. It was late, and my parents were packing. I knew what their reasoning was, but I didn't understand how urgent it was to get away, how dangerous it could be. They had been packing for about a week, and were planning to finish early the next day. There wasn't enough time. I was lying in bed, awaken by a dream. The window was open. As I got up to close it, I heard footsteps across the room, walking to me. I knew instantly what it was: a monster from my father's past, one of the ones that had been hunting him, one that was causing them to move again.

    Slowly he walked towards me, a smile on his lips. I didn't scream. I couldn't. Not as he sauntered forward, not as he grabbed my body and tilted my head. Not as he sank his teeth into my neck. Not even as I felt him draining my blood. The only time I screamed was when I felt the monster shift position, when I felt the warm liquid enter my blood stream.

    He dropped me on the floor, left me there to die, escaping the way he had come. I lied there, breathing heavily, as the door to my bedroom opened. My parents walked in; I could smell their blood pumping through their veins as their hearts decelerated. They knew what had happened. We all knew it was too late.

    I was a vampire.