So, at five years old, I climbed to the top of the Cursed Ravine. I overheard some of the boys in the neighborhood talk about how the place was haunted because of all of the people who had jumped to their deaths.
That was what I had intended to do—to jump so that my parents and my yet-to-be-born sister or brother could have enough to eat maybe.
But he had stood there, in the shadows, lurking, watching me, and when I saw him, something inside of five-year-old me shifted. I knew I didn’t have to jump, that maybe I could do something to help my parents.
So he saved me without a look, and in my mind, he became a savior, a guardian angel, and I gave him my heart. I followed him blindly.
From that day on, I started to find as many berries and fruit as I could. I would ask people who sat outside at restaurants and had opted against boxes for their leftovers to reconsider and let me have their food. I even stole when times were really bad.
My stomach never hurt quite as much as it had the day I climbed Cursed Ravine, and I liked to think my parents didn’t have to be quite as hungry either because I shared whatever I found or stole. It wasn’t just for me, but for them.
Was that why he was saying I wasn’t like most? Why would that matter to him?
But it seemed to matter to him.
I seemed to matter to him.
And he mattered to me more than I could possibly say.
My chin lifted, and as I release my shirt, I swallowed hard.
“I would like to know your name, yes.”
“Do you need to know my name?” he repeated, smirking as he circled around me, his steps slow, measured, calculated.
I turn to follow him, wanting to always see his face, and then, he abruptly moved in on me, forcing me back until my back hit the wall. He pinned me there without touching me, and he had to hear my heartbeat because even I could hear it.
“I need…” My gaze fell to his lips. Why did I want him to kiss me? To touch me where no one else had dared?
“What is it you need?” he asked.
And my thoughts turned to my sister, her nightmares, and I knew it stemmed from the mold growing in the house, how our utilities were being threatened to turn off, how our house wouldn’t pass inspection, how we shouldn’t live here, no one should, but we had nowhere else to go.
As much as I wanted him, what I needed was another matter.
“I need my family to not have to worry about the mold,” I murmured.
The mold was the most terrible part because all of us, especially Amber, were starting to become sick, and I worried that one or even all of us could die from it, but there truly was no other place we could go. Many times, I asked if we would be better off out on the streets, but besides the mold, Mom was sickly. She wouldn’t be able to survive on the streets, and honestly, Amber was young yet, just a child. She shouldn’t have to live like that.
The vampire straightened, drawing back, appraising me. He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring, and the sight of his smile, even with his fangs, filled me with such indescribable joy.
“What mold?” he asked.
I reached out for his hand. “Come. I’ll show you.”
But he merely stepped back.
The mold was growing in almost every room of the house but my sister’s and my room, so I left, figuring he would follow me.
He didn’t.
I checked every room but my parents', not wanting to disturb the sleeping trio.
The mold was gone.
How I didn’t know, but I just knew it wouldn’t return.
Shocked, amazed, thrilled, I returned to my room, expecting the vampire to be gone.
And he was gone.
The next morning, however, he returned. Again, I asked him for his name. He countered, asking me what I need, and as much as I could ask him for anything, I didn’t.
Not for myself at least.
“Amber needs new clothes. Her old ones are falling apart so much that I can’t even sew them back together enough for her to be properly covered.”
In the blink of an eye, he was gone. When I turned toward the bed, there were ten simple dresses, all in Amber’s size.
Again, he returned the next morning, and this time, I again answered his question with a request for my sister.
“For her nightmares to stop.”
He had lifted his chin at that, appraising me, and my stomach clenched. This was something he could not give, which is why I hadn’t asked for it yesterday, but still, it was what I needed.
Without a word, he was gone.
That night, Amber slept peacefully for the first time in years.
She was still sleeping when he returned the next morning.
“What is it you need?” he asked before I could ask for his name.
“My parents need—"
“I asked what you need.”
I swallowed hard, knowing the answer without having to think about it. I needed him to stay. I needed to get to know him.
I needed his name.
I needed his desire.
I needed his love.
Because I loved him. He was helping me, helping my family. He’d already saved my life once, and now he had a second time, and I just wanted to let him know and see how much he meant to me.
But I didn’t tell him all of this with words. No, I touched his cheek. His skin was a bit cool to the touch, but I expected that. He was taller than I was, my head not quite reaching his nose, but I wrapped my arms around his neck, lifted onto my toes, and thought about kissing him.
I wanted to.
But he asked what I needed.
“I need you,” I whispered.
He was still, like a statue, the most handsome, sexiest statue in the world.
When he did move, he reached
