Teen bloodsucker and her mother

“Om Shanti”, my forty something mother stared down at me, daring me to respond to her in like. I cleared my throat and spoke, deliberately disobeying her, “ya…see you later.”

“Kahan jaa rahee hai, itni raat me? (Where are you going, this late in the night?)” she asked, suspicion marring her, unusually high-pitched voice.

“Khana khaa ne (To eat something)…mom.” Well, of course I could have made another bunch of thousand excuses, to save my mother the trouble of imagining my meal, and more importantly the acquisition of it. But then again, where was the fun in that?

I watched her mouth drop in a very wide and very incredulous “O”, along with her eyes, which almost dilated. I could see, wisps of fumes floating out of her ears when she screamed, to my utter delight. Of course I wouldn’t dare show the delight on my face while I stood facing her in an arrogant flick of my head, like any other 19 year old.

“Sunooooo (Listennnnn)”, she referred to my impervious father who sat there with his face buried into the Times Weekly. “This girl is going outside again, to drink blood. Pata nahee kis kis ka khoon peeti hai (God alone knows whose blood she drinks). All my life she has sucked my blood, and now her evil tentacles have spread outside.” I hated this part, I’d been a vampire for only 2 months now, and this already gave my mother the right to claim that I had sucked her blood all my life. Utter rubbish and lies, I tell you.

She continued, “This vampire….gimpire is just some stupid fashion trend she is following, like when she was in her gothic days, or when she always wanted to wear pants and pee standing up. Are you even listening to me? This has gone on for too long.”

She turned towards me and with her most no nonsense gaze, she spoke, “Tu kahin nahee jayege. Chupchap beth ke roti khaa. (You are not going anywhere, shut up and eat bread.)

I turned towards my silent dad, who ignored the entire argument, and focused on the magazine.

His silence encouraged me to further disobey my, overtly annoying and interfering, mother. “I’m going, bye. You know I will not survive if I don’t drink blood. Or would you prefer me to make a meal out of you and papa?” This earned a slight chuckle from my, still staring at the same page, father.

I held my stance with mom and stared down at her, with my hypnotic gaze, but no matter how much I tried to focus, or stress, her eyes burned with anger and disappointment.

Dammit, how on earth did the hypnosis thingy work with every one else except my own goddamn family. Especially, mom?!

“Theek hai jaa (OK…go), I will pray to Shiv Baba, to forgive you, be kind on you in hell, and give you a better janma (life) next time. At least, you will be born with your limbs intact, where and what family, I cannot do anything about that, except pray.”

“Gee, thanks mom, I promise, my next life would be free of sin?!” Completely impervious to my sarcasm, she then seemed to focus her anger towards my dad, “Sunooooo, aaj couch pe so jaana! (Listen, sleep on the couch tonight!)

That seemed to bring my father out of his woolgathering, he jerked around to mom and spoke, “Maine kya kiya? (What did I do?)

I used that distraction to sneak out of my home, walk around the streets of Indira Nagar just to spot a nice six feet tall, athletic and muscular, juicy meal for tonight.

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