𝙫𝙞𝙞𝙞. 𝙚𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩

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Chapter Eight.

After we finish our raw emotional reunion, I hear a keen voice behind my parents. "Make sure to take care of her, take her home and answer any questions she has." An older gentleman approaches us, he gives me a smile before turning to my parents.

"Yes sir," They both nod and my mother turns to me and holds her hand out. I accept immediately as if I've done it a million times.

She's wearing a long silk red dress and my father wears an all black suit, I've come to notice how red and black are very common colors here. My mother's hand is soft, I adore her well manicured nails as I'm pulled away from the crowded room.

The doors are so large, I've never seen doors so tall. The young man in uniform opens the heavy doors for us and begins to follow us out into a long hallway.

"Where are we?" I ask, my mother brings me to her side and places her arm around my shoulders. I stare at the raw artwork that is painted onto the ceiling.

"We're in the counsel's building." My father tells me, studying me once I look away from him.

"This is where we make our big decisions and bring our children through." My mother adds, her long nails brushes my hair behind my ear.

I keep studying the decorations and how professional yet breathtaking the place looks. We walk down several steps and approach another large door. There is an older man in uniform, he nods at my father before pushing the door open for us.

We step outside, immediately I see a long black SUV. A man in a black suit studies me before congratulating my parents, he opens the back door and I climb into the SUV with my parents. As soon as the door closes, my mother grabs my face and turns me to look at her.

"Are you okay? How bad did you get hurt?" She asks frantically, I'm taken back from the gesture. She was acting cool and calm on the way out but now she seems frantic.

My father chuckles. "She's fine, I think you forget that she probably heals faster than us." He smiles at me, enjoying my mother's response.

"Whatever, Vincent. I don't care. I asked her to bring her to me not cause her to wreck." She retorts, rubbing my shoulder.

"She did great, it was me. I tried to stop before I hit her." I shrug, trying to hold in my amusement.

My father silently stares at my mother with a quirky smile.

She narrows her eyes at my dad. "She was wounded by broken glass, she could've died. Don't look at me like I'm crazy," My father hasn't said anything, he's looking at my mom and I assume they're having their own silent conversation.

"We are so happy to have you back," My father finally speaks, he stares into my eyes and places a hand over mine.

"I'm glad to be home." I speak from the heart.

I see my mother's mind turning. "Did they treat you good?" She asks, she doesn't seem to be accusing the worse. It's a genuine question, her large blue eyes studying me intently. Something tells me if I was to lie and say they didn't treat me good, she'd cause chaos.

"Yeah, I was really happy. That is until I started wanting to drink people's blood." I realize it comes off as rude because her beautiful face seems to scrunch in worry.

She crosses one leg over the other, "Oh honey, we understand." She runs her hand over my hair, the gesture is nice and calming. "It's very painful." She leans in and presses her dark red lips to my hair, I take the affection in.

We eventually pull up to a large black gate, it's massive and seems to go for as far as I can see. I sit up and look out the window, my father notices and opens the sunroof. I take his silent gesture and stick my head out of the top of the car, the weather is warm and beautiful.

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