"Mom, I'll be fine."

She looked at me worriedly, not letting go of my shoulders.

"Honey, we have to go," my dad said from the door. He was holding her little traveling case, all the other luggage already packed into the car.

My mom kissed me on the forehead and hurried outside with my dad in tow. They gave me half-hearted waves from the SUV, the trunks strapped to the roof of the car wobbling from side to side as they pulled away from the house and off to their two week business trip.

It's been four months since the incident, now, and I had been carefree since. The house was huge, with lots of places to explore. The perfect inspiration for a good story. Not to mention, I hadn't had any issues with being the single student of my tutor that came three times a week to coach me on my four core subjects and check up on what I'd been doing that week for my other credits.

Some people think homeschooling isn't good for your kid. That you need to get them socialized and that peer learning was crucial...

Well, that's not true of all students. So here I am, spending my days just as I wanted to. Writing, daydreaming, and for the majority of my time, being left alone. It sounds lonely, and I shouldn't want to be by myself in this huge creepy house, but it was what I'd been praying for for quite some time.

Immediately, I settled into my usual routine of grabbing whatever sweet stuff was in the fridge and holing up in my room with my laptop and the mounds of notes and lists I'd written for myself. Usually they were just odd facts and names with their origin and meanings that I incorporated into my stories, but there was the occasional receipt or pamphlet I'd found somewhere that I thought could help me with something.

My writing habits could be described as nocturnal. I usually stayed up until the unholy hours of the morning writing nonstop. Nothing could distract me from what I was doing.

Tonight I was having a particularly rigorous writing session, as no one called or texted me, and there was no one home to interrupt me. I was writing about one of my favorite characters, Elvira, sassy like myself.

My life is not what a regular human would call "normal" unless they were on drugs. Most people go insane hours after finding out their real species, but I was one of those people that never had a problem with strange things, in fact, I was drawn to them. I was born way too different to have ever been persuaded into thinking I was normal, but I didn't know all about my species. I'm glad I had people to explain things to me. I wouldn't be in this situation without them, and by that I mean that I'd probably be eating people (alive) or rotting in an asylum babbling about things humans aren't supposed to know. This is so because I was not born human, in case you haven't heard.

My mom, whom I never knew and don't care to, was not normal either. My dad was, but my mother was a long-nailed, red-eyed freak. She was seductive and evil (from what I hear) and she wasn't completely human. Neither was her mother, or her grandmother, and so on. I come from a long line of women that are descended from a very stupid woman. This woman is the one who cursed us with the pleasure we feel when we see someone dying, or screaming, or burning alive. She's the reason why my instincts don't tell me to stay away from fire. She is why I'm the only one of us who has even tried to not be evil. She is the woman who made us what we are.-

Suddenly, I felt the distinct feeling of uneasiness. I broke my gaze from the computer screen and looked around my room. There was no one there, obviously. But I felt like I was being watched.

You're just paranoid, Xaviere, I told myself. Because you're alone in the house, and you're freaking out.

I took a deep breath and turned back to my screen.

Just as I was trying to focus on my screen again, I saw a shadow flicker in the crack under the door.

I fixed my eyes on the spot, telling myself that I was seeing things. That staring at a glowing screen for hours on end was bad for your eyesight.

But just to prove to myself that everything was fine and that my mind was just playing tricks on me, I got up and tip toed to the door, opening it slowly.

I stepped out tentatively, looking up and down the long, narrow hall. There was no sign that anyone was there. I sighed in relief, still remaining silent.

Suddenly, the sound of the air conditioner kicking on alerted me, my ears ringing with the humming noise rushing through the vents. My arms pricked with gooseflesh.

The thing about our air conditioning is that it's a new system in an old house. It doesn't work normally. It can't be turned on unless...

Unless someone turns it on.