Forbidden Blood

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-Stell☆

There are long fingerprints on my neck. My father has long fingers, I noticed that yesterday evening. I feel the sharp sting from the bruises when I touch my neck out of habit. I always do that when I’m nervous.

I just got my test result back from my Dutch paper. I got 84%, and I’m second in my class with that stupid score. Second. I really don’t know what’s wrong with me this week. Normally, I’m first. Always first.

But this week has been difficult. I’ve been tired, and I’ve been feeling empty. I even slept in Saturday, but I’m still so very tired. It’s like it doesn’t matter how long I sleep, I keep having this empty feeling.

I’m feeling guilty for not doing anything useful. I have to be first, I have to be good. My father doesn’t want to remember that I’m a failure. He doesn’t want to remember that I’m the reason that his dear wife, my mom, became an Umbrakae.

Mom was so unhappy with us. She was so unhappy with us, with me, that she chose to sell her soul to the dark side, exactly 37 days ago. That night, she attacked me as well.

The loud school bell rings and I wake up from my thoughts. Another 50 minutes to go and then I can go home. The home that became my personal hellhole. It’s not really a home anymore, it’s just the house where I live. And my father. It’s messy and empty and dark. All the warmth and coziness has left, together with mom.

Professor Hennie is enthusiastically waiting for us in front of the classroom. His khaki-green pants and orange shirt lead to a funny view. “Sir, you look like a carrot!” Michael laughs. I can’t say he’s wrong. The outfit choice could be better. “You can laugh, I’m a happy person.” Professor Hennie has a warm smile, which never seems to leave his face.

“Do you know what else will make you happy? We are going on a field trip next week!” The class immediately starts firing questions in his direction.

“Where are we going?”

“What will we do?”

“Is it a task?”

“Do we get a grade?”

“Calm down, everyone!” the professor says, but he is as enthusiastic as we are, maybe even more. “We are going to the Dark Wood for soil research. You will get a grade, but don’t worry, it will be easy. It’s going to be fun!”

My body stiffens. The Dark Wood? He can’t be serious, right? Last week, 6 teenagers died after a midnight party close to the Wood. There even was a memorial on school Monday. They even advised us to not go close to the Wood and to be careful. The parties have been cancelled.

The parents were devastated, because they lost their children and were too old to try for a new child. The government is getting in trouble too, because the population of teens is getting smaller each day due to attacks. It’s like the monsters know that they have to go for teens, because parents often have difficulties having a new child then. Smaller children are getting attacked as well, but their parents can get a new child more easily, as they aren’t too old for a child.

However, there are parents who start protesting. They think the 1-child rule is ridiculous and blame the government for their loss. More and more parents lose their child and become angry. But a lot of them become so sad that they turn into Umbrakae as well.

On top of everything, it’s getting dark earlier. 6 PM means the Umbrakae will come closer. When it is 6 PM, it means they are stronger and hungry. The Umbrakae were the reason those teens by the Dark Wood were murdered. The rumor goes that their bodies were ripped and torn. Maybe my mom was the culprit. It’s impossible to know which Umbrakae did it, but I don’t want to think that my mom killed those teens. She loved kids. She really did. She loved me. Right?

I’m not the only one thinking about the incident, because there are whispers in the classroom. “But sir, what about the Umbrakae?” Elise asks with big eyes. She was in a similar situation to me. Her grandfather had become an Umbrakae when his wife died. She doesn’t look like me though. Where she has short black hair, I have long brown hair that becomes blonde at the ends. And my eyes... Well, no one in the class has eyes like me.

“Don’t you worry, Elise, the area is cleared again,” Professor Hennie answers, like he was prepared for this question. I really don’t get how he can stay this calm. People were killed there. Kids were killed there. Teens, like us. Doesn’t he understand how dangerous the Umbrakae are? Probably not. I didn’t know what they could do either, a while ago. But my mother changed that.

I’m standing in front of a huge blue door. The key in my right hand isn’t steady, because I’m shaking. After a minute or two, I can turn the key and open the door. It looks like it has been ages since someone cleaned the house. That’s because of the government police: GC.

After they got the news about my mom, they searched the whole house. Literally everything was turned over and inspected. I was really scared. Not because I did something bad, but because I didn’t know if they would find anything about my mom. They ripped all her clothes, they analysed our food, they made holes in the walls. They destroyed everything, to try and get a lead on the Umbrakae.

Scientists have been researching the reasons to become Umbrakae for years now. They think it’s because people are depressed and then do something or eat something to turn into Umbrakae. That ‘something’ is still a mystery though.

They do know how the Umbrakae can be killed. But it’s not easy: a special team has been selected for the extremely difficult task. The BloodGhosts, an elite group of assassins trained by the government. They only come onto the streets at night. That’s when they complete their missions. Without them, we would probably all be dead by now. They hide in the dark, like ghosts. They become the dark.

I once saw a BloodGhost. He was sitting on the roof of my neighbours. The BloodGhost seemed younger than I had expected. Not that I could see a lot of him. His face was covered with a black scarf, except for his eyes and hair. He was dressed in black. In his black pants, I could see the knives.

He was wearing a black jacket with long sleeves and had cool black gloves. He only sat there for a couple of minutes, but I had thought that he was so very cool. That was the moment that the BloodGhosts became my role models. Not that I would become a real BloodGhost myself. I didn’t even know how you became one of them, but I thought they were really cool.

He had looked at me, in my window, and had winked at me. He had stood up and left. He had looked mighty, like he was a king of the shadows. I had kept on staring at him, until I couldn’t see him anymore, jumping from one roof to another.

Inside the house, I see that the table is knocked over. It wasn’t like that this morning, so I guess my dad is home. I instantly get an uneasy feeling when I think about him. When I look left, into the kitchen, I see the wooden table and two chairs standing up. It seems wrong, a nice table in a broken home.

My father is sitting at the table, his head resting on his arms, and a photo of mom next to him.

‘Hello, father,’ I say, trying to know his mood.

‘Mira,’ he growls. Okay, not in a good mood I guess. I look longingly at the stairs that lead to my room.

‘How was school, Mira?’

I stare at my shoes. I notice there is some dirt on them. ‘Not very good, dad. I’m second in my class for my Dutch essay.’

Before I’m able to look into his brown eyes, I notice a movement on the left side of my face.

The glass that had been in my father’s hand a second ago breaks against the wall and a shard cuts my cheek. I shut my eyes because of the unexpected sharp pain. Something warm flows over my cheek. Blood. I hold up my still shaking hand and carefully wipe it against my cheek. Dark blood covers my hand.

Father isn’t looking at me, but is staring at the photo. I run to the white stairs as fast and silently as possible. I open my door—the second one on the right—go inside my room and lean against the now closed door. I throw my backpack on my bed and go to the bathroom. My eyes are tearing up. I let water run and take soap. I have this feeling that I have to rub all the dirt from me. I have to rub all the bad luck, the sadness from myself.

It’s so unfair. Everything is so unfair. I scream in my head, but no sound comes out of my mouth. I’m staring at myself in the mirror and drop my hand in the washbasin. The water keeps running over my red hands.

A blue and a brown eye are staring at me in the mirror. Why can’t I be normal? Why am I born in this family? Why am I such a freak? Why did this have to happen to our family?

Nobody likes me, they call me a freak. The fact that my right eye is blue and the left eye is brown doesn’t really help. It’s a sign of the devil, they say. I always wanted to wear coloured lenses, but wasn’t allowed. My mother said I shouldn’t hide myself away. She didn’t believe I was a child from the devil. But maybe she was wrong.

Now she’s gone, and I’m still here. But not for long anymore. In a couple of days, I will be 17 and then I have to stay one more year before I can finally be free. Free to go study, to go away. I will be able to leave everything behind. I will live without the pain, sorrow and desperation.

I avert my gaze and dry my hands. They are red and sting, but the pain feels good. It feels light.