Sarina

THE BEGINNING.

The Liara Origin.

It was the spring of 1690 in North Carolina. A white, two-story house with a white porch resonated with argumentative voices from inside. The house’s front door was a deep, oak color, with an arch of stained glass nestled at the top of the door that splashed a rainbow of colors across the floor. The windows were Victorian-style set in deep blue frames. The voices floated down from the second floor, and footsteps quickly trampled down the stairs to bring the argument to the first floor. The voices belonged to two women. One woman was slightly older than the other at twenty years of age. Her solid, black hair flowed down her back and rested against a light pink dress. Her lipstick’s ruby color and emerald eyes brightened her pale skin. The other woman wore a yellow dress and was eighteen years of age. The light pink shade of her lipstick complimented her skin. Her deep red hair was split into two braids, and brown eyes as warm as chocolate glared at the older woman as she followed her into the kitchen.

The two women approached an older woman who stood by the kitchen table. The woman was in her mid-thirties and wore a soft blue dress. Her black hair rested against her back, and her brown eyes matched the warmth of the younger woman’s eyes.

“Ladies, what is it now?” The woman asked, her eyes focused on scrubbing the dishware.

“Mother,” the older woman responded. “Abby won’t stop yelling because—”

“Sarina won’t stop insulting me about Daniel!” The younger woman snapped. “She keeps saying that Daniel is only trying to court me to get to her.”

“I’m the eldest, it makes sense,” Sarina shot back.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Mother interjected. “Sarina and Abigail Liara, you two best sort this out. Daniel is a fine man. You need to stop this bickering.”

“Mother—”

“So help me, I will make you both go hunting with your father and skin dinner,” Mother interjected Abigail.

“Ew!” Both women exclaimed simultaneously.

“I mean it!” Mother proclaimed. “Father has always talked of getting one of you into the hunting business since you don’t have a brother to carry on the family name. Speaking of, Father should be returning from his hunt shortly. Sarina, will you gather some firewood to prepare a fire pit? Abigail, please help me with drying the dishes.”

“Yes, Mother,” both women answered in unison.

Sarina exited the house and entered the woods. She found a trail of sticks and began to gather the wood in her arms. Father’s gunshot made Sarina smile at first, but it vanished as a blood-curdling scream followed the gunshot. The wood fell from Sarina’s arms as fear paralyzed her. She quickly broke her paralysis, hiked up her skirts, and ran toward the house. Before she could reach the front door, another gunshot rang out, and then there was only silence.

Sarina’s knees grew weak once she entered the house. Her mother’s lifeless body was splayed out on the floor with her neck ripped open. Sarina forced herself to walk further into the house and whimpered as she discovered her father’s body in the doorway between the kitchen and the hallway, his neck ripped out just like her mother’s. She felt her eyes grow blind with tears as she bent down and touched her father’s cheek gently. Abby. Sarina jumped up and rushed into the kitchen. Abby’s body was hunched over by the spilled dish bucket with her neck torn open.

“My,” a deep voice purred, and Sarina tensed. She turned her head toward the voice and blinked away her tears. A man stood before her with piercing gold eyes. His hair was the color of fire, and his gold skin reminded Sarina of the sun itself. He wore a black, long-sleeved button-up shirt that was tucked into a pair of black slacks with a pair of black penny loafers. Two white fangs extended down to his chin. The crimson color of blood stained those fangs, as well as his lips and chin. “What-what are you?” Sarina whispered. “Please, just leave us alone.”

“Oh, I cannot do that, darling,” the man replied, his gold eyes locked on to her emerald ones. “You are such a pretty little thing.”