Reflection

4

He sat on my bed. "Your eyes," I pointed out immediately. "They're silver. Mine are red. Why?"

"Now, now," he answered. "Don't be rude, Little Red. You don't even know my name."

I froze. "What did you just call me?"

He grinned. "Little Red. It's a cute nickname, since your name is Scarlett. Oh, but you probably don't like that. Because that's what your mom used to call you before she left, isn't it?"

"How do you know that?"

"I know everything about you. I've done my research. Your name is Scarlett Owens. Your mom left about two years ago, and you and your dad moved here. Your dad's a college professor, your—"

"Stop," I demanded. "Now."

"Ah, of course. You want answers?" he asked. I nodded. "Why are my eyes red? Why did the sun burn me? How did I heal? What happened to my throat? Why did my body go numb? Were you there when that man attacked me? Why did he attack me? Have you been helping me? Why—"

"Woah," he interrupted. "One question at a time. But first, would you care to learn my name?"
I huffed and slumped on the bed next to him. "What's your name?"
He grinned. "Why should I tell you?" I glared at him, and he chuckled.

"My name is Adam Grayson."

"So I can call you Little Gray, then?"

He glared. "Do you have questions or not?"

"Yes," I answered, clearing my throat. "Starting with one very general one: what is happening?"

He sighed, seeming reluctant to explain. "I'll tell you, but do you have something to drink? It's a long story."

We went downstairs, poured him some coffee, then went back up to my bedroom and sat back down on my bed. "Go ahead," I said, taking a sip of my own coffee and staring at him.

He took a deep breath. "I guess we should start at the beginning, with the man who attacked you. He was...one of us—"

"What do you mean: one of us?"

"I'll get to that. Don't interrupt."

I shut my mouth and he continued. "He was one of us, but he was a Rogue. Again, I'll get more into detail about it later. Anyway, he turned you, as we call it."

I wondered if he was ever going to get to something that made sense, and exactly how long this would take. "Basically," he continued. "He drank your blood and you drank his, correct?"

"I didn't drink his blood," I said incredulously. "That's gross. I accidentally swallowed some." Even so, I gingerly touched the bandage on my neck, and he nodded.

"That's what made you lose consciousness. I ran up as soon as you collapsed—"

"I noticed."

"Shh." He put his finger to my lips, and I shut up. "I ran up and you passed out right as I got there. I looked up but the man was gone. I couldn't go after him, or you would bleed and die on the spot. He tore your neck pretty bad.

"So I took you to my place, washed and bandaged you, then brought you here, all before your dad even got home. You woke up the next morning, and let me tell you: your reaction to the mirror was hilarious."