Chapter 5: The Butcher’s Daughter-in-Law

That day, I snuck out to see Grandma.

I took the long way, sticking to side streets and alleys, always looking over my shoulder. Some habits die hard. My steps were light.

Her legs had gotten worse again. Since I disappeared, she’d spent four years searching for me, carrying my photo everywhere.

She’d aged decades in just a few years, hair gone gray, hands trembling as she clutched my picture to her chest. My throat tightened.

People mocked her, saying her college granddaughter must’ve run off with a rich man. Grandma would go crazy, swinging her cane at anyone who insulted me:

“Say one more word about my girl and I’ll show you what I can do!”

Her spirit was unbroken, even as her body failed her. She was a force of nature, stubborn as the day is long. I smiled, bittersweet.

The police found my backpack and bloodstains in the woods, and figured I was dead.

They closed the case, chalked it up to another tragedy. But Grandma refused to believe it. She kept searching.

But Grandma stubbornly insisted: No body, no death. If there’s no corpse, her granddaughter must still be alive.

“A fortune-teller said my girl would live a long, long life!”

She clung to hope, no matter how impossible it seemed. That hope kept her going. My heart ached.

For four years, she went to the county police station every week, rain or shine, to ask about the case. The police had no idea what to do with her. The mountain roads were rough—just the trip took four hours each way. No wonder her legs got worse.

I stood outside the gate, watching her, feverish and mumbling my childhood nickname.

Her voice was thin, barely more than a whisper. She called for me in her sleep, dreaming of the little girl she’d raised. I blinked back tears.

She was so weak she couldn’t even lift a cup of hot water.

I watched through the window, heart aching. She needed me, but I couldn’t stay. The longing was sharp.

Vampires aren’t supposed to have hearts, but the pain rooted deep in my chest—dense, inescapable.

It was a dull, throbbing ache, worse than any hunger. I would have given anything to make it stop.

I chopped wood, boiled water, and while she slept, refilled her thermos and put it within reach.

I worked quietly, leaving no trace. Just enough to keep her comfortable, to remind her that she wasn’t alone. I hoped she felt it.

I didn’t dare stay long. Vampires can’t linger around the living.

The hunger is toxic. I’d been living with the West family day and night, so the poison had already seeped into their organs.

Just waiting for the right day to open them up and feast.

But when I got home, Father-in-law blocked me at the door, giving me a creepy grin. “I finally figured out where you sneak off to every afternoon before shopping!”

He reeked of whiskey, eyes bloodshot. His smile was all teeth, predatory and unkind. My skin crawled.

When I played dumb, he dragged me to the mirror, smugly saying:

“Keep pretending. Look at your neck!”

His grip was rough, fingers digging into my arm as he spun me around. The bathroom mirror reflected the truth—bite marks, red and raw, peeking through the smeared makeup.

Only then did I see—the steam from boiling water had melted the foundation on my neck, revealing dark red bite marks, plain as day.

I felt my blood freeze, my eyes narrowing dangerously—the sign a vampire is about to feed.

The hunger surged, a wave of heat and rage. I clenched my fists, fighting for control. My fangs ached.

But Father-in-law didn’t notice. He grabbed my waist, leering:

“Cheating on my son, huh? Whose hickey is that on your neck?”

His breath was sour, his hands wandering. I recoiled, disgust curling in my gut. I wanted to bite him then and there.

Father-in-law was a creep. He’d stolen my underwear more than once.

Sometimes, he’d grope my waist as he passed by.

My mother-in-law knew, but pretended to be blind, even encouraging him: “Why pay for a mistress when there’s a free show at home?”

Their marriage was a circus, cruelty the main act. I was just another prop. I steeled myself.

That night, I was showering when the bathroom light suddenly went out.

The darkness was suffocating, the air heavy with anticipation. I knew what was coming. My heart pounded.

With heavy breathing, Father-in-law burst in and threw me to the floor.

His hands were rough, his intentions clear. I played my part, feigning fear, biding my time. My mind raced.

I pretended to struggle, calling for help.

“Stop faking! I already sent Carter and his mom out. It’s just us now!”

He leered, lowering his voice. “What’s so great about my son? He yells at you all the time. Be with me—I’ll treat you right…”

His words were slurred, desperate. He lunged, grabbing my shoulders. I waited for my moment.

He couldn’t wait, grabbing my shoulders—and a whole patch of skin peeled off like wet paper.

He froze, staring at the piece of pale, wrinkled skin in his hand, just as my head twisted ninety degrees with a crack.

Our eyes met. He trembled, forgetting to breathe. I grinned.

I laughed, slow and stiff.

“Just the two of us? Well, I guess it’s time to eat.”

My voice was cold, inhuman. The fear in his eyes was delicious. I savored it.

He let out a bloodcurdling scream.

He fell backward, scrambling desperately for the door. “Help! There’s a monster!”

But the house was empty. No one answered. His panic fueled me.

I dragged him back into the darkness, using sharp nails to dig out both kneecaps. Humans love a good crunch—vampires do too.

The crunch was satisfying, the taste even better. He writhed in agony, pleading for mercy. I ignored him.

He rolled in agony, finally recognizing me before death. “You—you’re that girl from back then—”

His voice was a gurgle, panic giving way to realization. I leaned in close.

The bathroom floor was slick with blood as I drank his life, smiling with deep satisfaction.

“That’s right. Finally recognize me? It’s only been four years—how could you forget?”

My words echoed in the empty house, a requiem for the dead. I licked my lips.

After drinking, Father-in-law always bragged, “No one in the county butchers better than me. Not just animals—people, too…”

He’d catch himself before saying too much, but his pride showed in every line of his face. I relished his downfall.

Back then, Carter did it drunk.

But it was Father-in-law who did the cleanup.

The first time, I wasn’t completely dead.

Carter, drunk, didn’t use enough force. I still had a breath left.

Father-in-law, the professional butcher, came to clean up and noticed.

“Dad, what do I do? I don’t want to go to jail. I haven’t even gotten married yet. She was still moving, she bit me, I just got mad and…” Carter sobered up and started to panic.

I begged weakly, trying to stop them.

Father-in-law lit a cigarette, the glow illuminating his wrinkled face. “Relax. Out here in the woods, people go missing every year. No body, no case—no one can blame you.”

Then he took a deep drag, grabbed the butcher knife, and with a swift motion, blood sprayed high into the pale moonlight—the only witness to the murder.

The woods were silent, the air thick with secrets. No one would ever find me. I faded away.

Afterward, they even went to spy on my house.

They watched my seventy-year-old grandma kneel and wail before the police, and snickered:

“It’s just an old woman. What’s there to be afraid of?”

“They say she was the town’s only college girl. Tsk, what a waste.”

Their laughter still echoes in my mind, cruel and unrepentant. My anger burned.

Father-in-law’s sobbing pleas annoyed me, so I ripped out his tongue by the root.

I mocked him:

“If begging worked, I wouldn’t have died back then.”

Then I ate what I wanted, threw the rest off a cliff, and burped contentedly. The moon looked so much brighter than before.

No, it was my eyes—color was returning to the world.

I could even feel the north wind stinging my cheeks.

Devouring my enemies’ flesh and blood—making them suffer to the last—lets a vampire become human again.

It’s the oldest magic—revenge as resurrection. Each bite brings me closer to life, closer to home. My soul stirred.

Grandma, wait for me. Please, just wait a little longer.

I’m on my way home.