Mallory received a visitor later the same night and was dragged by the hair from my bed, back to hers. And when it was all over, I came to her side.

Kelsey found us the next day lying side-by-side in Mallory’s bed and went through the process of healing each of us.

“The Pissarro brothers; they’re the worst,” she said once we were coming back to life. “I’ve only seen them once but cleaned up after them many times. They give me gooseflesh, and I can’t even really get gooseflesh anymore.”

“The nurse wasn’t so bad,” Mallory said. “She just had her snack and left—not that I want to imply I’m in any way getting used to this kind of treatment or enjoying it in any shape or form.”

“There is a whole subculture of those who do,” Kelsey said as she began to change out my bedsheets.

“We’re aware,” I said. “We’ve been to one of the vampire clubs.”

“Fangloria?” She seemed rather surprised. “What’s it like?”

“Honestly?” Mallory started. “Kinda like here, only with more willing participants. A lot of blood and boobs.”

“And add butts to the mix,” I said.

Kelsey burst out laughing, showing her age—just like a true teenager. “That’s probably where I’ll have to go once I’m released from here. Unless I become a doctor or nurse who gets complimentary visits, I don’t think I’d be able to afford what this place charges for outside guests.”

“There’s always animal blood,” I said. “I know some vampires live on it.”

“Have you ever tasted animal blood?” Kelsey asked.

“I’m not a vampire, so no. That’s just gross.”

“Exactly,” Kelsey countered. “It’s about that good for us too.”

“Do you still eat regular food?” Mallory asked.

“Yeah; my body still needs regular food to survive. The blood cravings are in the early stages and I think I’ll be consuming both for a couple of years. In that time, the food should steadily lose its taste and the nutrients become less effective until my body stops using them altogether and simply flushes them all out.”

“What will you miss the most?” I asked.

“Oh, there’s so much… How do you pick just one food? I love breakfast, so maybe French toast. I love it with butter and syrup, sometimes with whipped cream and bananas. Cinnamon French toast with pecans.”

“You’re making me so hungry,” I said. “And the food here isn’t exactly stellar.”

“And I doubt we’ll be getting French toast,” Mallory added.

“Sorry,” Kelsey said. “I guess you still have a while before breakfast.”

Once Kelsey had finished cleaning our room, she led us to the showers again to clean up. My body had so many cuts and gashes from the Pissarro brothers that Kelsey had to practically paint me head to toe in her blood. But under the cool spray, all that blood was rinsed away, leaving me with the scars I’d been living with for years—along with the healing cut on my palm that I made sure Kelsey didn’t accidentally heal.

According to Kelsey, it was around 2 p.m. when she left—back to just Mallory and me, locked in a room together, still trying to figure out how to deal with each other when one of us wasn’t in agonizing pain or despair. We quietly sat on our respective beds. I was about to lie down and try to get some more sleep when Mallory spoke up.

“You can open the curtains if you want,” she said, producing a sad smile. “I miss the sun already. I miss the beach. I miss just being outside. And how long have we been here—a week or so?”

“It is hard to keep track,” I said as I flung open the curtains, letting the day’s brightness seep into the room. Sunlight wouldn’t be streaming in through the window for another hour or so, but the daylight alone was enough to be comforting.

“We’ve had several maids and chefs throughout the years. Even an au pair when I was little because my mother was always at the country club or a fundraiser or some charity function. She had a cause for every day of the week.” Mallory lay down but adjusted her pillow so she could still see me. “My father never seemed to take much interest in the help. He was always busy doing—well, we know now—Society duties and obligations. Then he had his businesses, like Hot Coffee, which he was growing and multiplying. I want to say he owns eight to ten companies now.

“We had this one maid when I was in seventh grade who came in several times a week. Our previous one, Mrs. Ortiz, had to leave suddenly. I never knew why, but then again, never cared enough to really ask about it. The new maid was pretty and young and had great references. My mother had her reservations, but it wasn’t like we had never had attractive help before. My father told her she was being paranoid and not to worry.

“She was always nice to Aaron and me. She even helped us with our schoolwork when no one else was available. She quickly became a staple in the household.” Mallory paused as she reminisced on her childhood, her expression suddenly turning dark. “My mother found them in bed together about a year after she was hired. My father claimed it was the first time and was simply a big mistake, but it eventually came out they’d been having a regular affair for six months or more. She wanted a divorce, but when their lawyers went head to head, it became apparent she wouldn’t get nearly as much money as she thought—as much as she thought she deserved. So, she stayed, and he tried to repent, but nothing seemed to work. She got lost in a myriad of prescription drugs until one day, I found her unconscious in the bathtub—pills all over the floor, a broken glass of red wine. She nearly drowned.”

“Oh my God; that’s awful!” I cried.

“Until very recently, that had been the worst day of my life,” Mallory continued. “I drained the water and tried to wake her up before calling 911. The worst part was, she knew I’d be coming home from school, and we had no staff scheduled for the afternoon; she knew I’d be the one to find her. It was punishment for being daddy’s girl—siding with him even after what he did. But I hadn’t really sided with him, just distanced myself from her once she started to self-destruct, after she reluctantly decided to stay.”

“What happened to her?” I asked.

“She went to a rehab facility for a while. When she got out, my father hit her with divorce papers. No one wanted to go with her, so she moved out of state to start over. I see her about once a year now. They’re not exactly pleasant trips.”

“I’m sorry for all that happened.”

“I know you have father issues, and I know I’ve given you crap about it. But as you can see, I have some pretty deep mother issues. And for years, I’ve blamed them on your mother, then taken it out on you.”

At this point, it wasn’t a big revelation that my mother was the maid who allegedly broke up her family. I couldn’t imagine my mother doing such a thing, but didn’t believe Mallory was lying. There was obviously more to my mother than I knew, which seemed to be the big commonality between my parents.

“What do you want me to say?” I asked. “I’m not going to justify and rationalize what my mother did. It’s messed up; I won’t deny that. But I swear to you, I had no idea. I’ve never even seen her bring a guy home. I didn’t know she had a dating life at all.”

“The two of you do look a lot alike.”

“So I’ve been told,” I said. “But it’s easy to tell us apart by the scars.”

“Yeah… I haven’t been overly sensitive about that.” Mallory sighed. “I know you want to get out of here—we both do—and I’m really trying.”

“It’s nice to actually talk—even though what we’re talking about sucks,” I said. “But it’s important.”

Even though she didn’t officially apologize, I took the conversation as a win, a real step forward for us—and for hopefully getting released from this awful place.