Thea: A Vampire Story Read online

  “Thea,” I whisper. “Are you hungry? I’ve made pancakes.”

  She doesn’t flinch.

  “Thea,” I whisper again. “Wakey, wakey, sleepy head. It’s late.”

  Still nothing.

  I walk over to her side of the bed and sit on the edge. “Sweetheart,” I whisper, trying to repress the fear in my gut.

  Don’t say it. Don’t even think it. She’s fine.

  “I’ve made us pancakes.”

  No movement.

  “Thea!” I say, almost shouting, prodding her on the shoulder. “Wake up!”

  Still nothing.

  I reach for her neck to check her pulse. She’s fine, Sarah. Don’t panic. Teenagers are meant to sleep in on Sundays.

  The moment my fingers touch her cold skin, she stirs.

  See. Everything’s fine.

  Sighing in relief, I make my way over to the curtains. “Come on, honey, it’s a beautiful day.” I pull the curtains apart, the bright morning sun bringing the room to life.

  “CLOSE THE FUCKING CURTAINS!” Thea screams at me.

  Heart pounding in fright, I turn to her as she pulls the quilt over her head. Oh shit! Is this a symptom? My stomach starts to spiral as the thought of infection occupies my head. I try to repress it again, push it as far back as possible—but it won’t budge. “Don’t speak to me like that,” I mumble, my words lacking any authority. “I’m your mother.”

  “Just leave me alone,” she says, her voice muffled by the quilt. “I’m tired.”

  I stare at the bed, unable to decide how to handle this. She’s been awake for most of the night. I’ll let her sleep.

  The blood was fake, Sarah. Nothing has changed.

  “Fine,” I say in defeat, pulling the curtains closed, “stay in bed and waste a beautiful Sunday. Your loss, not mine.”

  Just as I start to leave the room, I stop at the doorway, taking one last look at the mound of quilt covering Thea.

  You’re still you.

  * * *

  All this seems so familiar.

  I’ve been sitting in this chair, staring at Thea as she sleeps, for the past three hours. It’ll be getting dark soon, and all she’s done is stir a few times. Just like her sister. But at least when it was Ivy lying in bed, sleeping off a night of ecstasy or cocaine, she was the one who poisoned herself.

  Not me.

  I’ve tried to wake her a few times, but each time she’s knocked me back. Even when I offered to order in a pizza.

  Wake up, Thea. Come on, sweetheart. Stop scaring Mummy.

  I reach over to the chest of drawers and grab my glass of vodka and orange juice. The stress of the day just got a little too much. I’ve only had two and I still feel guilty—but not surprised. Did I really think that one day off the booze would somehow be enough? How naïve can you get?

  Even though I still hate the taste, I finish the glass with little effort. No more vodka today; I want to be sober when she wakes.

  19

  Thea finally wakes at 6:51 P.M. The curtains are still drawn, but the sun is up.

  That’s the main thing.

  I can’t hide the great big grin across my face when she sees me.

  “Why are you sitting there?” Thea asks, her words stifled by a giant yawn.

  I get up off the chair and sit on the edge of the bed, taking hold of her hand. “Just making sure you’re all right. You’ve been asleep for most of the day.”

  Frowning, clearly thinking that I’m joking, she leans over and squints at the time on the bedside clock. Her mouth hangs open in disbelief when she sees how late it is. “Oh my God. It’s nearly seven. I can’t believe it.” She sits back against the headboard, clearly in a state of shock. “How did I get in your bed? Did you carry me in?”

  “Don’t you remember? You came in here at two this morning, telling me you couldn’t sleep.”

  Thea shakes her head, pursing her lips. “No, I can’t remember. Was I sleepwalking?”

  “I don’t know,” I reply with a shrug. “Could’ve been. You were in a bit of a daze.”

  “That’s weird. I’ve never done that before. Have I, Mum?”

  “Not that I can remember. Your sister did it a couple of times when she was very young.”

  Thea checks the time again. “Well, this is officially the latest I’ve ever slept in.”

  I smile, but it’s false. I’m trying my best to push away this horrible foreboding in my gut, but it’s as stubborn as I am.

  “Hungry?” I ask her, stroking her arm. “I made pancakes.”

  “Pancakes! Yes, definitely. I’m starving.”

  We both climb off the bed. I hand Thea my dressing gown from behind the door, and she slips it on. “I’ll have to warm them up, though. I made them this morning.”

  “Sorry, Mum. You should have woken me up. I’ll always get up for pancakes.”

  I follow her out of the bedroom towards the stairs. “Next time I’ll try a little harder.”

  * * *

  “Bloody hell,” I say to Thea as I watch her devour her fifth pancake in a row, “you must be full by now.”

  Thea shakes her head. “Not yet. I haven’t eaten a thing all day, so you better keep them coming.”

  “That was the last one, but I can make you a sandwich if you want.”

  With her finger, Thea scoops up the syrup from the plate, and then licks it off. “Only if you don’t mind, Mum.”

  “Of course I don’t mind. I’m your mother.”

  “Thanks.”

  I take out two slices of bread from the breadbin and lay them out on the chopping board. “Ham and cheese okay?” I ask, opening the fridge and staring at all the empty shelves. Need to go shopping tomorrow.

  Thea doesn’t answer, so I turn to her. “Ham and cheese?” I ask again just as I see how white her cheeks have gone. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

  Before she can say a word, Thea leaps up from the table and races out of the kitchen, cupping her mouth.

  “What’s wrong?” I say, chasing her as she bolts out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

  She reaches the top in a second and disappears into the bathroom. I race after her, the sound of vomiting journeying around the house. In the bathroom, I stand behind her, my palm rubbing her back, listening as she wretches and coughs into the toilet.

  After a few minutes, she finally stops, lets out a tired groan and then flushes the toilet. She turns to me, eyes bloodshot, the colour in her cheeks still drained. “Feeling any better?” I ask her.

  Thea just shakes her head.

  “Do you think it was the pancakes?” I ask. Of course it wasn’t the fucking pancakes!

  “I think I’m just going to go to bed,” Thea replies croakily, her throat clearly strained.

  “That’s a good idea. Do you want to sleep in my bed again?”

  “No. I’d rather sleep in my room if that’s okay.”

  “All right, sweetheart. It’s up to you. I’ll bring a pan up in case you’re sick again.”

  “There’s no need. I’ll use my bin.”

  “Okay then. Try to get some sleep. If you’re still rough tomorrow, I’m calling the doctor.”

  A doctor? Really? What if he finds something in her blood? They’ll call the police.

  Thea smiles through dried, cracked lips. “Okay. Goodnight, Mum.”

  “Goodnight. Call me if you need anything.”

  Thea ambles across the landing to her bedroom, her head hanging low. I won’t need a doctor, anyway. She’ll be fine by the morning. It’s probably just a bug.

  A fucking bug? You’re in denial, Sarah. She’s infected.

  Shut up!

  Once Thea closes her door, I walk back down to the kitchen. My hand wobbles as I make myself a vodka and orange juice. I might as well finish the bottle. At least it’s all gone then.

  I take the drink into the living room and sit on the couch. Each sip pushes away the worry. There’s a cheesy Sunday night movie on: Titanic. That’s exactly wh
at I need right now.

  I take a huge gulp from my glass and focus on the movie.

  What the hell were you thinking? You poisoned your own child! How could you?

  Shut up!

  I swallow another mouthful.

  Just watch the fucking movie.

  You could have killed her! She’s all you have left in the world!

  It was an accident!

  I finish the drink.

  I know that actress from somewhere. Wasn’t she the crazy woman in Misery?

  You’re gonna burn in hell for what you did!

  Stop it! Stop it!

  STOP IT!

  I jump up from the couch and exit the living room.

  I need another drink.

  Fuck the orange juice!

  * * *

  The movie is almost over. Even after four more drinks, I still managed to follow the plot. The vodka bottle is nearly empty. I won’t be buying any more of the stuff; it’s too strong.

  The TV screen is blurred. I thought for a moment that we needed a new one, but luckily for me, it’s just the booze. I need to pee. I’ve been holding it in for the past hour; just couldn’t face getting up off this couch. My bladder can’t bear another moment of this torture, so I get up, using the arm of the couch for support. I’m not drunk; I’m just dead tired. It’s been a long couple of days.

  I haven’t heard a peep out of her all night. I’m sure she’s fine. Climbing the stairs, I grasp the banister tightly, trying desperately to focus on each step. When I reach the summit, I listen out for her. She’s probably fast asleep—exactly what I should be doing right now. I stumble into the bathroom, lock the door and sit on the toilet. Slumped forward, I think about Thea running away. Is she still thinking about going? We haven’t had an argument for a couple of days; maybe she’s had a change of heart. I flush the toilet, run my hands under the tap and dry them on the towel. There’s still time to change her mind. Still time to convince her that running away is a terrible idea. I exit the bathroom and step onto the landing.

  I hear a loud thud—it came from Thea’s room!

  Bolting towards her door, vision now in focus, I hear screaming. Adrenaline surging, I barge inside her bedroom and see the bed empty. And then my eyes drop to the floor to find Thea. She’s on her hands and knees, a pool of blood around her—her head buried deep into someone’s throat. A boy. I race over and grab her by the shoulders—but she won’t budge. “Thea!” I shout, pulling even harder. I manage to pry her off the boy, taking with her a mouthful of skin. A jet of blood sprays over the wardrobe and walls. Thea turns to me, hissing through red-stained teeth. “Oh my God! What have you done?”

  I freeze when I see what’s left of Jared, as he lies on the carpet, body twitching, choking, bleeding to death. Thea quickly mounts him again, sinking her jaws into his neck.

  I start to gasp for air, my hands, my entire body convulsing. This isn’t real. It can’t be. I’ve fallen asleep on the couch.

  I try to speak, but my vocal cords no longer function. Whatever noise manages to leave my mouth is drowned out by the sound of sucking.

  “Thea,” I finally say as I start to creep towards her. “It’s me, honey. It’s Mummy.”

  The slurping comes to a sudden halt.

  “Sweetheart,” I say, slowly reaching for her shoulder, “come away from him.” I hold my breath as my juddering hand touches her pyjama top. Thea pulls her mouth away from Jared’s throat. “It’s Mummy, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be all right.”

  The room becomes still, just the sound of breathing.

  Thea tips her head back, a mix of saliva and blood hanging from her chin, and then lets out a loud, painful squeal. I jump back in fright and my head hits the wall.

  “It’s Mummy,” I plead. “Listen to my voice.”

  Thea springs up onto her feet; the entire front of her body is soaked with blood. Her eyes are locked onto mine, her posture firm like a cat about to pounce.

  “Please,” I sob, struggling to speak. “Snap out of it.”

  She doesn’t acknowledge my words.

  I back away to the side, heading for the doorway. She follows my movement.

  I’m a metre away from the landing.

  She’s getting closer.

  “Please, Thea. I know you’re in there. Wake up, honey.”

  She suddenly darts towards me, shrieking like a wild beast. Just before she reaches me, I manage to get onto the landing and slam the door, trapping her inside the bedroom.

  With both hands, I grasp the handle tightly as she beats on the door. “Stop it, Thea! Please!”

  My grip nearly slips as the door moves ever so slightly. I need to lock it. I see the vase on the table; the skeleton key is inside it. But it’s too far away.

  Should I make a dash for it?

  No, she’ll get out!

  And I can’t let her. Not yet.

  She’s too dangerous.

  I feel the sweat run down my face, mixing with the tears. Keep holding. No matter what.

  Forget about what you’ve done.

  Forget about Jared.

  All that can wait.

  Just focus on keeping her inside. She’ll be calm soon, back to her normal self. And then you can let go. Then it’ll be safe. In a few hours.

  When the sun comes up.

  20

  Monday, 25th April, 2016.

  There’s a golden beam of light travelling across the landing.

  Sunrise.

  What time is it?

  With both hands still clutching the door handle, I manage to check the time on my watch. 6:03 A.M.

  On my knees, my head thrashing, I listen out for signs of life through Thea’s door. Haven’t heard anything for about an hour. That’s when she stopped trying to rip the door off its hinges.

  She must be sleeping by now.

  I thought about calling someone—even the police at one point during the night. But that’s not going to happen. Not a chance in hell. They’d kill her, without a second thought—thirteen or not. Calling Mum or Kate crossed my mind, too, but the idea of confessing sends a shudder of loathing through me.

  No, I’m her mother, and this is my mess, my problem. I’ll fix it—as I always do. Thea’s aggression will pass. I’m sure it’s just the early effects of the blood.

  Blood.

  There was just so much of it. That poor boy.

  What the hell was he doing here?

  Was he here to take her away from me?

  Maybe they got into a fight over it. For all I know, he tried to force her to leave.

  That could have triggered the rage.

  No! Stop making excuses! I have to accept the facts: Thea tore that boy’s throat out because she’s infected.

  And his death is on my hands.

  I press my ear to her door. Still silent

  I need to get in there, check if she’s okay, clean up the blood before anyone comes around snooping.

  What do I do about the body? I can’t just hide it in the house—the neighbours will smell it.

  I’ll bury it. In the garden.

  Shit, I don’t even own a spade.

  I’ll buy one. Today.

  I suck in a lungful of air and slowly take one hand off the handle. Swallowing hard, I give the door a gentle tap.

  No response.

  “Thea,” I call out softly, tapping the door for a second time.

  Still nothing.

  I brace for a few seconds before slowly twisting the handle and pushing, still listening out for Thea. The door is stuck. I push again, this time a little harder. The door starts to shift, rubbing against the carpet. What’s blocking it? With my shoulder—feet planted firmly on the floor—I slowly manage to push the door open, leaving just enough of a gap to squeeze through.

  I can feel my pulse rocket as I carefully step inside the room. When my head is in, immediately I see Thea, propped up against the door.

  A shockwave of horror hits me when I don’t see her chest
move.

  Please, God, don’t say she’s dead. Don’t you dare do this to me again.

  Don’t you fucking dare!

  Inside the room, I kneel over her still body; the fear of an attack replaced by something much worse. Just as I reach for her neck to check for a pulse, I see her chest suddenly rise.

  “Oh, thank God,” I say under my breath, exhaling in relief.

  Should I try to get her into bed? No, best leave her where she is. I can’t risk another frenzy. Her pink dressing gown is on the floor, so I lay it over her like a blanket.

  For maybe a minute I stare at my baby, fast asleep, pretending that the red on her face and clothes is something else. Maybe grape juice. Or tomato soup.

  Not blood.

  Never blood.

  Turning my head, I see Jared’s body on the floor. He looks so young. My stomach spins when I see the state of his throat. He’s not twitching anymore, just still, like he’s sleeping soundly on the floor.

  There’s no way he slipped past me last night. He must have used the window again. I need to lock it in case Thea decides to climb out. I dread to think what could happen if she got outside. Avoiding Jared’s body, I crawl over the bed to get to the window, holding my breath as the springs squeak loudly. Glancing over my shoulder, I see that Thea is still sleeping, undisturbed by the noise. I twist the tiny key to lock the window and then slip it into my pocket. Crawling back over the bed, I catch another glimpse of Jared. I feel queasy, but I push the feeling to one side and focus on the task at hand: getting this room clean, and disposing of the body.

  If I think too hard about it, let the fact that I’m about to bury a teenager in my garden truly seep in—then I’ll never go through with it.

  And I can’t let that happen.

  I won’t let Thea pay for what I’ve done.

  But before I do anything—I need to buy a spade.

  21

  The last thing I ever thought I’d have to do was lock my own daughter up. But I’m out of options. Yeah, the sun is up and she’ll probably sleep all day—but I can’t risk it. What if she got confused, stepped outside? She’d burn to death.