Rena’s POV

I take a deep breath as my memories flood back—mother’s lifeless form sprawled on the blood-soaked ground and father’s betrayal stabbed at my heart, a sensation akin to my sanity slipping away into the ether.

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the images to disappear, but they are vivid in my mind. After several breaths, the churning in my stomach subsides and my head clears.

As I open my eyes, I squint against the harsh light.

A shape moves at the edge of my vision. I turn and notice a man in a white coat standing above me, his surprised eyes peering through small spectacles.

“Welcome back, miss.”

I glance around in a daze, taking in my surroundings. White walls, the smell of antiseptic in the air... it’s a hospital room.

But how did I get here?

“Where am I?” My voice comes out hoarse and thin.

The doctor pulls up a chair. “You were transferred to Nadia Memorial Hospital. The police found you unconscious in your residence. You’ve been in a coma for a week.”

I frown, trying to piece together my agonizing memories. “I remember being with Rachel. Until...” I trail off, squeezing my eyes shut again as flashes of that horrific night assault my mind.

The doctor’s voice pulls me from the memory. “Don’t force it. Trauma can block parts of the memory. With time and rest, it will come back.”

The doctor’s words haunt me as I lie awake, flashes of that night emerging, but I push them back, not yet ready to relive the trauma.

The next morning, sunlight streams through the windows, casting a warm glow over the sterile hospital room. A nurse enters to check my vitals.

“Good morning,” the nurse whispers. “How are you feeling today?”

I glance towards the window, taking in the bright morning light. “Better than yesterday.”

The nurse smiles. “I’m glad to hear it. My name is Dahlia. I’ll be your nurse while you’re here. Is there anything you remember?”

I ponder for a moment. “Kinda. I can’t make sense of it all.”

Dahlia nods. “That’s understandable. You’ve been through quite an ordeal. Do you have any other family I can contact?”

As the weight of her words sinks in, I feel a surge of anxiety creeping back.

“I have my sister Rachel Florea. Does anyone know what happened to her? Is she alive?”

Dahlia looks at me with a mixture of empathy and understanding. “In the police report, only you and your mother were in the house; you and your mother.” She reiterates.

Her eyes urge me to comprehend the gravity of the situation.

She takes a deep breath and continues.

“Rena,” her voice a soothing balm amid the chaos of my thoughts. “There’s something important we need to discuss your condition. I’m here to help you understand what’s happening.” Her gentle smile somehow flickering with an earnestness that beckons trust.

As soon as I give a slightest nod, Dahlia explains the complexities that I have been eager to grasp. “I’m well-verse in the vampire world... like you, I’m a Dhampir.”

My mind races as I try to process everything. “A Dhampir? I remember my mother mentioning that once, but I didn’t know there are others like us,” I admit, feeling a mix of relief and confusion.

Dahlia nods again, with a warmer smile. “Some of us are about playing it safe and flying under the radar. If you let me, I can teach you the ins and outs of our world. You don’t have to be alone.”

The room falls quiet, except for the tapping of Dahlia’s fingers on her keyboard as she focuses on her computer.

Then Dahlia breaks the silence. “Rena,” she turns to me, her gaze intense, “You’re an unusual case since your arrival. Your neck bears marks, and your blood has an unfamiliar substance—our V virus. My colleagues think your case is astonishing, so I suggested they check the machines again; they cannot discover our existence.”

She lets out a heavy sigh and whispers, “It seems you’re beginning your Valprya,” her voice a clinical calm as her fingers hover over the keyboard.

My heart lurches in my chest, and a surge of panic rises within me.

Valprya?

The word alone makes me shudder.

Mom, what were you keeping from us?

“What does this mean?” My voice shaking with apprehension.

Dahlia looks up from her computer, her piercing gaze meeting mine. “I know that this is overwhelming. It means you’re awakening further into a Dhampir, and it looks like you have one last step to complete.” She discloses, walking closer to me.

“And what is that?” My voice attempting to mask the tremble of fear and disbelief clawing at my throat.

“You need to drink blood. I can help you only if you want to. You are free to make your own decision, okay?” Her voice almost pleading, as if she cannot bear the weight of my burden herself.

I feel a surge of nausea and revulsion at the suggestion, the image of crimson liquid pooling in my mind, accompany by an inexplicable sense of dread. The thought of consuming blood is a line I can’t cross, a boundary I won’t let myself breach, no matter the cost.

“I can’t,” I utter, my voice shaking as tears well up in my eyes.

Dahlia reaches out and places her hand on mine, her touch a fleeting comfort amidst the turmoil raging within me.

“There is another way, Rena. You can find alternative sources. Animals, maybe. Of course, it won’t be the same without human blood, one might—” Her voice carrying a thread of warning.

“-I can’t bring myself to take another’s life for my survival,” I cut her off. The idea of seeking an alternative, a way to fulfill my hunger without sacrificing my morals, sparks a flicker of hope for me. “I’ll consider it. For now, I need time to think.”

Dahlia responds, her hand lingering on mine before withdrawing. “Take your time, Rena. I’ll be here for you.” Her unwavering support a beacon of light in the tempest of my indecision.

Before I can respond, Dahlia’s expression shifts, a subtle flicker of concern passing over her features. “I don’t mean to alarm you, but I believe we have eavesdroppers nearby.” She glances around. “Not for prying ears.”

As Dahlia turns to leave, a shadow of concern crosses her face. “Others may lack my compassion. Therefore, Rena, my home is open to you; you are welcome to stay with me.”

“Thank you. I will take your offer into consideration.”

With a last nod, she slips away, leaving me alone with my thoughts. The weight of my decision presses down on me, the conflicting emotions waging war within my heart and mind.

Another week passes in my recovery. Dahlia tends to me with patience, though I remain weary on rather or not to trusting her. My discharge date arrives, and with a bag of belongings, I follow Dahlia to her home - my new reality.

As we pull up, I gaze out the window and take in the quaint manor on a dead-end road. It has a homey appeal with windows wrapped in flowering vines.

Dahlia turns to me with a gentle smile. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be cooking dinner soon. In the meantime, why don’t you settle into your room and rest?”

I nod, taking in my new surroundings. Dahlia leads me inside and gives me a brief tour. The cozy interior embraces me like a warm hug, with old wooden furnishings and the sweet scent of baking bread.

My room is furnished with a full bed, books, and a desk tucked under the window. I set my bag down, gazing outside at the lush green trees swaying in the breeze. An overwhelming homesickness washes over me as I think of my mother and sister, now gone from my life.

A knock at the door pulls me from my memories.

“Come in.”

Dahlia enters with a gentle smile. “I thought you could use some company. How are you settling in?”

“It’s comfortable, thank you. Just ... strange to be somewhere new.” My fingers trace absent patterns on the windowsill.

Dahlia’s eyes soften with understanding. “Change is never easy, but I hope that in time, you’ll find peace here as your home.”

A moment of quiet understanding passes between us.

“Supper is ready. I’ve made ox blood soup. If you would like to come down?”

The idea of drinking blood still turns my stomach.

“Hmm... Ox blood soup sounds intriguing,” my voice trailing off.

Dahlia chuckles, noticing my hesitance. “Don’t worry, Rena. I promise it’s not as intimidating as it sounds. Trust me, it is delicious.”

I follow Dahlia to the dining room, where the aroma of the soup fills the air. The table is set with a simple elegance, and Dahlia serves us both steaming bowls of the ox blood soup. As I take my first hesitant sip, expecting the worst, I’m surprised by the savory flavor that warms me from the inside out.

“This is... good,” I admit, a hint of surprise coloring my voice.

“See, I told you it wasn’t so bad,” Dahlia smirks, her eyes twinkling. “You’ll be a blood soup connoisseur in no time.”

After finishing our hearty dinner, Dahlia leads me to the cozy living room, where a crackling fire casts a warm glow across the room. She gestures for me to take a seat on the plush sofa and settles beside me, a comforting presence in the quiet room.

She opens her arms in invitation, and I lean into her embrace. Dahlia wraps me in a motherly hug, and sensations both strange yet soothing wash over me.

For so long, I’ve been without this simple intimacy, this unconditional acceptance. In Dahlia’s care, even for just this moment, the yawning chasm of loneliness inside me seems to lessen.

We sit like that for some time, neither speaking, as the shadows of nightfall deep and long across the forest surrounding Dahlia’s home.

“Thank you.” I relax further into Dahlia’s comforting embrace. “I can’t remember the last time someone held me like this.”

Dahlia’s arms tighten around me. “You’re very welcome, dear. Every child deserves to feel safe and cared for.” She pauses, choosing her next words with care. “If you’ll allow me, I’d like to be that person for you now - a friend, a family, someone can support you as you find your way in this dangerous world.”

Her kindness brings fresh tears to my eyes, though these are tears of sorrow. I lean into her embrace, allowing myself this moment of comfort and security.