Chapter 47: Chapter 47: 2 A.M.

Chapter 47: 2 A.M.

As Allyn and Ares train, life goes on, for Tamara. With all the debauchery that entails.  

Sweet dreams are made of this…

Now, I have many names. The Demon Hag, the Fangs' Bane, The Queer Pear. But, out of everything I dislike about these names, it is the fact that even the people who enjoy the performance of the vampires, as they play along to D-pop tunes, use them.

And how fucked up is that? If my supporters stood so low as name-calling, then… why am I even doing it all for?

I remember my life, before I came in here. It was nice, I suppose. I used to have a baby girl. I don't know what happened to her, but I would like to know, one day.

Did Shannon step up to take care of her, or, did my little cherub end up with my sister Lucy? She is so scatterbrained, that I bet that my Amanda has to do all the cooking and cleaning around the house.

Shannon is my, was my, anvil. Perhaps, if she was not, then maybe, I would still be alive. She constantly tried to stop me from smoking, and I constantly battered against her nerves.

I never managed to bounce back, after I was reborn. I still remember how Shannon held my hand, and cried by my bedside. How our children, her step-son, and my daughter, looked at me with wide eyes.

There are times, when it is dark, and the night breeze brings the scent of salt from the sea, that I wonder… did I even deserve to have such a family? It is 2 A.M. now, and I can't go back to sleep.

The curvy vampire lady, who has been warming my bed, turns to the side, and hugs the blanket. I tip up the bottle in my hands, and let the alcohol wash away my nerves.

I did stop smoking. Sure, from time to time, I do crack up a cigarette. But never at 2 A.M. I always get this feeling that Shannon is near, at this hour. So, full of regrets, I wake up, almost religiously, and pray for her health.

It is not a prayer that little boys and girls will hear from a priest. It is my prayer. A sinful prayer.

I wish her good health, and a good girl. I wish her to see how both of our children grow up.

"My lady, please, close the window. It is getting cold," the vampire lady says, and I blink. What was her name again? Just how many have passed through my bed, this month alone?

"Sorry, love. I will do just that. Do you want some blood?" I ask her. She sniffs the air, and then her eyes land on my bottle.

"No, my lady. I have a performance tomorrow. I can't turn up drunk," with that, she bundles up in the blanket, and I sigh.

 No, no one wants the drunk old demon lady's blood. And I?

Well, I can't keep clean. These butterflies that flutter in and out of my bedroom are pretty, gifted, some older than me, some not. Good in bed, all of them. Yet, it all tastes like ashes on my tongue.

I stand up, finally feeling the chill, as the sea breeze envelops my body. With only a thin night gown on, I go to the window, and close it with a click. Then, I go back to the bed.

There is no conversation to be had with the pretty nameless vampire. She is back to being asleep. How I wish that I could sleep as well as she. I plop myself down on the bed, and reach out for the bottle. I stop myself, just as the neck of the bottle is on my lips.

With a gentle move, I place the bottle on the nightstand, and continue with my prayer.

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Be happy, have someone better than me by your side. Be safe. Look after the kids…

I pray like that, until the skies color crimson and orange, and the nymph of a vampire stirs in the bed. I smile, and then offer her my wrist when I catch her staring.

This time, she does take my blood. Probably because the little alcohol I drank earlier, has already been cleansed from my blood, because of my metabolism.

I am a demon lady; I should have been a hero.

Who wants a hero, who brings tears to the woman she loves? Who leaves two children with one parent less?

"Do you wish to talk about it, my lady?" The vampire asks, as she kisses my wrist.

"Don't worry about it, love. It is just some scheming about the next D-pop concert," I tell her with a wink.

And this is the difference between Shannon, and all the butterflies I have been bringing to my bed. Shannon would have called me out on my bullshit. The vampire just kisses my wrist once more, and then stands up. Naked as the day she was born.

"Well, I better get to the club. The band and I are going to practice before it opens," she says, and I nod.

"Yes, do that. Sent my best wishes to the girls," I tell her. She lingers in the doorway to my bathroom.

"My lady, will you call me again?" She sounds hopeful. I know it is not because I was a good company. My blood has more punch than normal blood. What with me being a demon lady, and all.

"I won't forget you, love," and I really won't. She gave me relief from the dark place in my mind. Yet, she did not stop me from my 2 A.M. prayer, to a woman, who must have died centuries ago.

She nods, her eyes full of understanding. She knows the rumors. That I don't call back for a second roll in the hay. That I never will.

She knows, and flies away. Like the butterfly, she is. And I? I put on my airhead mask, and go around urging vampires to pretend to be gay.

It is the only fun thing left for me, in this world.

No matter how happy one pretends to be, their broken shards show to those, with keen eyes.

But for Tamara, such a person doesn't exist anymore. For, she broke Shannon's heart, and left two children without a parent.

She must atone.

She knows this. So, she keeps on collecting butterflies, and prays at 2 A.M.

 Not even once for herself.