“You thought? And why is that?” My voice was flat.
“Mom’s right. You have a drinking problem. Ignoring it will only make things worse.”
“Where is it?”
There was a pause. Jenna took a deep breath. “I threw it out.”
I screamed, a low sound of pain and rage. My fist flew at the freezer, the skin on my knuckles splitting and healing almost simultaneously.
Jenna backed away from me, fear in her face. I bore down on her, fury giving the room a red tinge. I thrust my face close to Jenna’s.
“This is my God damn house. You do not come into my house and throw shit away. You don’t get to do whatever you please.”
Jenna’s eyes welled with tears. “I’m just trying to help.”
Trying to help? She was going to get herself killed.
I steeled myself against her tears. In the past, I’d always been a sucker whenever she pulled them out, caving quickly. She couldn’t afford for me to do that this time.
“You were not invited here. Yet you throw my stuff away and think to lecture me. Who the fuck do you think you are?”
Jenna’s eyes fell from mine. She stared at the head of lettuce in her hands. I closed my eyes and counted backwards from ten.
“It’s in the bathroom,” she said softly.
Without a word, I whirled and headed for the bathroom, locking the door after me. She’d stashed the wine under the sink. If I’d been in possession of my faculties, I could have just sniffed the damn thing out. The hunger and close proximity of Jenna’s tempting blood had short circuited my senses.
Tilting my head back, I drained the bottle in three huge gulps. I could practically feel my parched cells soaking up the life-giving liquid, soothing the fire inside. Lowering the bottle, I caught sight of the stranger in the mirror—dark circles under her bloodshot eyes, pale translucent skin. I barely recognized myself. Worse was the look of starved desperation on my face. It was a look that said I’d do anything for my next fix. No wonder my family thought I was an alcoholic. My act in the kitchen certainly had done nothing to allay that image.
The worst thing about being a vampire—and the part I hated the most—was the blood lust. The craving turned me into someone else. Something else. Something dangerous.
The stranger in the mirror bowed her head. Hiding wouldn’t change things. It never did. Being depressed and cursing my fate wouldn’t either.
I corked the wine bottle and placed it gently in the trash before picking up my tooth brush and giving my teeth a good scrub.
Time to go see if I could salvage the situation with my sister.
The good news was that I’d always been territorial when it came to my stuff. I once glued every drawer in my room shut to prevent my sister from borrowing my clothes. I wore the same outfit for nearly a month before our parents instituted a new set of rules where everything in my room was off limits unless I said otherwise. It hadn’t mattered to me that I’d been stuck in the same clothes. It was the principle of the thing. It’d helped that I’d also sentenced her to the same fate by gluing her dresser drawers closed as well.
She knew exactly what my reaction would be to her coming in and throwing something of mine away. It’s why she hadn’t dumped the contents and why she’d cooked me a meal. She was hoping to get on my good side. She had just underestimated the depth of my reaction.
I dressed before heading back to the kitchen, where I leaned against the counter and watched as she set the table. She avoided looking at me as she moved around my space.
A stranger wouldn’t be able to tell we were sisters. Jenna took after our mom, both were on the shorter side with bright blue eyes and blond hair that had reddish highlights, whereas my hair was dark brown with a reddish tint when the light hit it just right and my eyes were closer to gray than blue.
I should probably start with an apology. No reason to damage our relationship further.
“How did you get into my apartment?”
On the other hand, an apology might encourage her to do it again.
She gave all her attention to setting the table as if this was a test and setting the fork down just so would make everything better. “Your landlord let me into the apartment when I told him I was your sister and wanted to do something nice for you.”
“Did he now? I’ll have to speak with him about letting strangers into my place.”
Jenna set the plates she’d been loading the steak onto down hard. “What’s wrong with you? I’m your sister, not some stranger off the street.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me.”
