How to Train Your Vampire

I laid in my bed. I felt bad about spooking Scarlet. But she was definitely a vampire. Not that I believed in that sort of thing but that reaction to the term was basically a confession.

What could I do?

She was cute and really just innocent. Was it Mr. Slither's fault he ate bunnies? No. So it wasn't really her fault she drank blood, if that was indeed how her diet worked. I'd seen her eat a couple times now so maybe blood was just a supplement she needed and not the sole component of her diet.

With a roll, I burritoed myself in the fluffy black comforter and wriggled my phone to my face. The rest of the band was also at home. Part of me wanted to ask their opinions on things. But I knew even though they were my friends, they probably wouldn't be keen on a vampire. Twilight was over twenty years ago so why would they?

More importantly, I doubted they'd believe me. The same way the police didn't believe a dead body was even in the asylum.

I let out a slow breath and freed my other hand to help cool off. The air conditioning was barely turned below seventy-eight and overheating was too easy.

There was a gentle knock on my door.

"Hm– yeah?" I called out.

The door opened and Mike stood there. He was still in his work apron and smelled like a person only could after working in a deli all day. Primarily, he smelled of bologna.

"Hey bunny," he said softly. "Can we talk?" He asked.

"Yeah, what's up?" My heart dropped. I didn't know what he was about to lecture me about.

"Officer LeBlanc gave me a call," he explained. "He said you stopped by about something and that he was interested in talking with you about it again whenever you have a chance." He slowly folded his arms and leaned against my door frame. "Is there anything you need to talk about?" he asked.

"I'm fine," I reassured. "I just… witnessed something and when I reported it they needed more information before they could question me."

"Okay," he waited for my explanation to continue but I kept silent. Even he, as chill as he was, would give me a hard time for exploring an abandoned building. "Should I be concerned?" He asked finally.

I shook my head. "I'm fine. Everything is okay."

He nodded slowly. "Let me know if it's not," he said. "I love you and I don't want you to feel alone."

"Everything's fine," I said with what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

"Okay, they want you to stop by the station at some point today or tomorrow. Let me know if you want me to go with you or if you need a ride or anything." He shrank back out of my doorway. "Toodles," he said 

"Doodles," was my automatic response.

My door clicked shut.

My anxiety mounted astronomically and I buried my hands in my sheets to help with the sudden icy chill overcoming them. Did the police find the body? Did they find Scarlett? I didn't know. And my panic was leaking catastrophically.

I started to focus on my breathing, inhaling and exhaling for counts of five and ten.

I had to make a plan. But it would be stupid to go to the asylum now, wouldn't it?