Blood Queen

There are many things to be afraid of on Meyer Street. For starters there’s the shady gangster at 3249 who smuggles drugs into the country inside of foreign car parts, or the pair of rabid dobermans kept in the yard only by a heavily patched-up fence at 3251. But not even the burly ex-con with a staring problem and an impressive domestic weapons collection at 3247 fills me with as much dread as the unassuming decrepit shack at the end of the street. It grows in my vision, swallowing up the blue skies, the boy next to me, and the solid ground beneath my feet, creating a universe where nothing else exists and I am alone with my fate. My blood pounds in my ears but it’s a familiar terror. Trained. Practiced. Andy stops me just in front of the door.

“Iris?” I swallow hard, pushing the fear down to the back of my mind. “Iris it’s not too late to change your mind. You don’t have to do this. You can still leave.”
“Actually.” I reply, surprised at the clarity of my voice when I expected it to be tight from panic. “I can’t.” My fingers find the gaps between his and I squeeze his palm. Just once. “But I appreciate that you’re trying.”

Andy knocks. Silence. He glances at my father’s beat up motorcycle in the driveway and knocks again only louder this time. An unmistakeable sound of shattering glass and muffled swearing hits our ears and ten seconds later the door creaks open. He glares at us with bloodshot eyes for several seconds.
“So you finally decided to come back did you? How dare you bring a boy to my house?” I can’t help it. I’m shaking uncontrollably, I open my mouth to speak but I can’t seem to form words. My palms are sweaty and I think I might throw up. I glance at Andy for help, and... he’s smiling. I know he’s dangerous. The fangs that are so easily hidden and the spark of fire behind his eyes would send the bravest running, but the most deadly thing he has is his smile. Of all the dangerous weapons in his arsenal, nothing comes close to that minefield of a smile.
“Are you surprised she’s back so soon? It was my impression that she was just taking a nice morning walk.” He says in a voice that is somehow cheerful and terrifying at the same time, lying with an ease that astounds me. “Anyways, I apologize for the intrusion, but I was on a walk myself when I ran into Iris. I recently moved to town and I’ll be finishing up my senior year at her school. She looks like she’s been in a fight so I’m sure you’ll be glad that there’s someone… keeping an eye on her.” He stares my father down, as if daring him to argue. He doesn’t, but he orders me inside. Somehow, I find a smile and it feels like a small victory, long overdue. For the first time in my life, I walk into the house with my head held high even when the door is slammed behind me. Andy must have spooked him, because he doesn’t even hit me once, just tells me to go to my room. A blessing.

The stairs are creaky, but the one upside to this house is the tiny bedroom on the top floor. Sure it’s dusty and it smells like formaldehyde with a window that shines the sun right in my eyes early morning, but it’s quiet. My school papers are scattered all over the “desk” (storage crate,) and my bed, I realize as I walk in, is not empty. Andy is lying back with his feet propped up on the headboard and a smug-but-annoyed smile on his lips.
“Drunk humans are sooooo easily manipulated.” He sits up to face me. “Plus if I ever hear that tone in his voice again, I’m going to punch him so hard he swallows his teeth.”
“How the hell did you get in here? And faster than I did I must add.” I laugh. His smile softens.
“You know, you should really lock your window. Or at least consider removing the thorny vines from the trellis underneath if you’re just going to invite people in like that.” He lifts a hand, grinning, to reveal a few shallow scratches.
“I’ll keep it in mind. We might have some band-aids or something if you want?”
“No thanks, I actually have to go in a minute, but I wanted to offer to walk you to school. Meet you at the beginning of the road at 6:30?” Geez. Andy Biersack is a vampire who’s going to be the new guy at my local high school; I’ll be damned if that doesn’t sound like every teenage girl’s cliche fanfiction. Still, It would be nice not to walk alone, and I could use the semblance of a friend to get me through Monday. So I smile.
“6:30? That’s cutting it a little close. I didn’t know you were such a risk-taker.”
“What can I say? I like to live on the edge.”
“Me too.” I laugh. “Maybe I’ll even get there at 6:35.”
“Ah, see now you’ve gone too far.” He teases. There’s a pause as we both try to think of something clever to say, but nothing comes to mind.
“I’ll be there.” I promise.
“Good. See you then.” He replies warmly, and then he’s gone out the window again and climbing down the trellis with the dead roses. Inevitably, he gets caught on a thorn again because I hear him stage whisper “Ow! Dammit!" and have to stifle a giggle. It’s been an odd and exhausting morning, but not a bad one as far as they go.

Notes

Hello my fellow bad-pun enthusiasts! :) I hope you like the sarcasm and teasing in this chapter (and I hope that it was understandable, it's surprisingly tricky to write witty dialog.) So far the stroy seems to be coming along not at all in the way I had envisioned. I told my characters to do one thing and they did the other. *sighs* Oh well, this should still be interesting. :) This chapter in particular goes out to @BVB_Rebel_Love_Song who helped motivate me to put my head down and write it: I'm glad my story is helping you, it's the best thing that a story can do. :)
On a different note, I have finally succeeded in rapping (badly) along to Zack Joseph's part of TOP's "Kitchen Sink" without missing a word and it felt like getting a hug from the entire skeleton clique. I also realized that I was the band-obsessed loser who spent close to three hours playing it over and over again trying to get it right. :) But at least I have a story now, so I can't complain. :)
My question for you all today is... (drum-roll please) What's your favorite kind of story? Do you like fics about love? War? Awkward smut written by teenage bloggers who have no clue what they're writing? Revenge? Sweet Revenge? Black Parades? Dangerous Days? The choice is yours! :)