Opening the door, I peek out of the room I share with my brother. As I listen, I hear another crash sound from somewhere in the house; it’s what woke me up. Rubbing my sleep-heavy eyes, I go to investigate, stopping abruptly at the entrance to the kitchen when I step in a slick puddle.

My small eyes widen at the hulking form of the stranger holding my father to the wall. A gasp escapes me and, at my noise, the figure turns, blood dripping from his chin and down his shirt, glowing red eyes on me.

Monster.

I feel the tears start to burn at the sight of my father’s limp form slipping from the stranger’s grasp to the cold linoleum of the kitchen floor.

“Lillian.” A hushed whisper draws my attention to my mother’s prone figure lying just to my right, blood seeping from a mangled wound at her neck.

Her desperate eyes meet my frightened ones as the monster scatters the dining chairs on his path toward me. I try to step back, but slip and fall, staining my night dress red.

“Lilly,” comes my mother’s strained voice once more. “Run!”

Fingers link with my own and pull me to my feet, out of the kitchen, down the front walk—Julian.

We don’t look back.

My feet burn with the chill of my mother’s blood congealing to my skin in the cold night air as we run for our lives.

I open my eyes to the weak light of early morning.

The tears are hot on my cheeks and I struggle for a moment against the agonizing emptiness that rips from within my chest.

It’s been a while since I’ve had that dream.

I’d almost forgotten…

No, I could never forget.

But lately I’ve been so distracted, it seems rescuing Julian and avenging my parents has fallen to second on my list.

Right under putting my life back together.

Swinging my feet from under the covers, I stand from the queen-sized bed and make for the bedroom door. I run a hand through my hair to straighten it then wipe the tears from my face and glance to where I stashed the briefcase under the dresser—still safe.

The muffled sounds of music coming from the living room cue me in to the fact that Jonah is up.

Good, I had been hoping to get an early start on my errands and there was something I wanted to ask him.

“Jonah?” I call, padding down the hall in my socks and stifling a yawn as I come into the living room, only to stop short at what I see. “Um. What are you doing?”

Jonah’s undivided attention is on the TV screen, which graphically displays a brutish character alternating between slicing the heads off mutated monsters, and ripping their necks out with his knarly set of jagged teeth. Fragmented voices float from the headset secured to Jonah’s ear, and though I can’t make out what they’re saying, based on their panicked tone I have a feeling it has something to do with the giant wolf creature that just appeared to deal massive amounts of damage.

In spite of his teammates’ panicked communications, Jonah is silent. Whether this is because he’s unconcerned by the wolf creature, or because of the soda can he has stuck to his face, I’m not entirely sure.

“Hm?” Jonah intones through the metal against his lips. His eyes never leave the screen, but he inclines his head in my direction to indicate he’s listening none-the-less.

“Uh, I was hoping to talk to you about something.”

His eyes find me for a moment before darting back to the screen and the battle at hand. “Hrns sahn eraln da itsen.”

Stepping forward, I gingerly pull the can from Jonah’s lips and just barely manage to keep from spilling its liquid contents everywhere through the two holes punctured into the side.

“There’s cereal in the kitchen,” he repeats, the words coming through clearly now that his lips are unobstructed.

I turn the can in my hand. “…Is this a coke?”

“Uh huh,” Jonah says, leaning to peer at the TV from around my form.

“You’re drinking coke? With your fangs?”

“My hands were full,” he says, clutching the controller tightly and leaning a little further. Muffled responses echo from his headset, to which he responds, “naw, it’s just my roommate.”

“Why are you even drinking soda this early?”

Making my way into the kitchen, I deposit the perforated can into the sink and shake my head as some of the remaining coke leaks lazily from the holes and down the drain.

“Ugh, not to mention how bad that’s got to be for your teeth…”

“Needed caffeine,” Jonah intones, still focused on the battle at hand. “Coffee’s too bitter.”

Filling a bowl with cereal I find in the cupboard, I search the refrigerator for some milk and plop down on the couch next to him to watch as I eat.

“Shall I grab you a V8 so you can drink your breakfast too?”

Jonah frowns. “I don’t have any V8.”

“Oh,” I say in mock regret. “Shame.”

Satisfied I have the perfect milk-to-cereal ratio, I settle back to watch more closely what, exactly, Jonah is doing.

On the screen, the giant wolf creature lets out a menacing howl as the green bar above its head turns yellow, then an influx of smaller wolf creatures amass on the battlefield. Two of the smaller wolves beeline toward Jonah’s character and I wince as he slices off their heads and uses his teeth to tear the neck out of a third, gaining him a “health bonus.”

“Ew,” I mumble, mouth full of cheerios. “What exactly are you playing?”

“Vampire Knights IV: Curse of the Lycan King.” From his headset there’s more worried shouting.

“Um,” I say, gesturing to the screen with my spoon before changing my mind and scooping up another spoonful of cereal instead. “Never mind. I’m sure you’re well aware of the irony.”

Jonah grunts in response, still totally absorbed in killing the small wolf-creatures.

We sit in relative silence for the next few minutes, me eating my cereal and Jonah exchanging the occasional phrase with his teammates. Finally, the team is able to successfully bring down the rabid werewolf, the whole battle ending in a graphic cut scene with one of the other players’ characters cutting the massive creature in half from cranium to thigh.

As the two halves of the wolf fall to the ground, I let out a sigh of relief I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, then cast a sideways glance at Jonah to be sure he didn’t notice how involved I’d gotten in the short time I’d been watching.

The cut scene ends and, as their characters begin roaming the landscape once more, I find myself mildly surprised the game credits didn’t start rolling.

“Wait, I thought you killed the Lycan King. Did he not die?” I ask, once more using my spoon as a pointer.

Jonah shakes his head. “Nuh-uh, that was a mini-boss.”

“A mini-boss? That thing nearly kicked your ass!”

Jonah casts a sidelong glance at me. “Actually, we did fairly well against him. None of us lost more than half our health and we managed to take him down in just a few minutes…”

I stare open mouthed at the game screen. “So how long until you face the big boss?”

“We’re not even halfway yet. So…probably well over fifty hours.”

“Fifty hours?”

I turn my open-mouthed gape to Jonah who, I’m thankful, is still focused on the TV and so misses the view of my tonsils. Shutting my mouth, I clear my throat.

“Well, actually, I was hoping you could take me shopping today. In all honesty, the demons shredded my wardrobe and I’m in dire need of some new underwear.”

For his part, Jonah doesn’t seem surprised, but his teammates obviously are because the conversation coming through his headset ceases abruptly.

After two heartbeats, there’s an inquiry to which Jonah replies, “yeah, she’s a girl. Why?”

The chorus of voices that follow have him wincing.

“Also,” I raise my voice to be heard over the cacophony coming through his headset. “I have to make some phone calls. Do you have a phone I could borrow?”