* Trigger Warning - Alcohol/ Addiction/ Needles *

Mum glanced at Amelia and Johnathan, walking along the dimly lit path. Her close-set, emerald eyes zoned in on my duffel bag slung over my shoulder. "What's going on, Erika? I didn't expect you home for at least a week."

"About that, there was an attack at the hospital. We got Erika to safety." Johnathan extended his hand. "It's nice to meet you again, Mrs Smith."

"I wish I could say the same, but you look," she squinted, trailing the length of him, "harassed." His shirt was untucked, dotted with red splotches, and his leather shoes had seen better days.

Johnathan's eyes flickered to me, assessing if I was still upset with him. "It's been one of those days, Mrs Smith."

You can say that again.

Mum widened the door, allowing Johnathan and Amelia to cross the threshold. Stepping foot into my home, a waft of Dad's scent filled the hallway. It came from one of his peacoat jackets hung on the hook.

She gasped and spun me around, grabbing me by the neck to get a closer look. "What happened to your neck?"

I caught the reflection in the circular mirror. The blood had partly dried and left streaky marks. "I'm fine. I tried to help someone."

Lying wasn't the answer, but I had to lead Mum away from the truth. Dad had hidden that from her for all these years.

She brushed back my hair, tucking it behind my right ear and held my gaze through the reflection. "Helping others will only get you hurt, Erika," Mum whispered in my ear.

I turned my face away from her boozy breath, tickling my cheek. My lips curled in disgust. "You've been drinking."

Does she even make an effort at her AA meetings?

She glowered and stepped back, undoing a button or two on her floral blouse. "When will you realise the world doesn't always revolve around you?" she slurred, sauntering into the kitchen.

She doesn't mean that. It's the alcohol talking.

I struggled to regain my composure as her words left some sort of an effect on me. Any utterance when she had been drinking stung like a bee, packing a punch that hurt for hours after.

Running my hands through my hair, I mustered the courage and joined the others in the kitchen. Johnathan and Amelia were sitting at the rustic dining table centred in the room.

"If I had known you were coming, I could've made you a cake." Mum opened the fridge, contemplating something.

I stood in the doorway with my arms folded. "You don't cook."

At least she doesn't anymore. Those days of baking are long gone.

"How hard can it be?" She grabbed two bottles, letting the fridge close on its own with force. "I reckon it's easy as piss. Which do you prefer? Merlot or Pinot Noir?"

Amelia shook her head in decline. "No, thank you. I don't drink."

"Doctor? You look like you could do with a drink." Mum ignored Johnathan's protest and popped open the Pinot Noir.

Anger thrummed through my veins as I watched her pour the liquor into the glass, handing it to Johnathan. His stare lingered on me a second too long, catching my mother's attention.

"Do you like my daughter, Doctor? She could be a catch if she put makeup on and stopped wearing baggy clothes, don't you think?"

"What? No, Mrs Smith, that's not what's going on," Johnathan replied, moving the glass away with the tips of his fingers. "We came to see if Richard had come home after his visit to the hospital."

Mum waved him off, slurping from the bottle. "Nope. Haven't seen him."

Grinding my teeth from her sudden accusation, I sighed and joined her at the countertop. "Mum, this is important. Dad went missing around the time of the attack."

She didn't look worried, dismissing every option. "Did you call him?"

How did that escape my mind?

Johnathan interrupted, "It went straight to voicemail."

"Richard works long hours, so he probably turned it off." She knocked back another gulp from the bottle. "I don't know why you're all worried."

Jeez, maybe it's because you don't know the full story.

I remembered him visiting in casual clothes. "No, today's his day off."

Mum leaned against the countertop. "Who attacked the hospital?"

"A gunman." The words flew out of my mouth, grabbing Amelia and Johnathan's attention. There was no way to back out of the lie now. "There was more than one, and they all carried weapons."

Fangs. They all have fangs and an impulsive desire for blood.

If they found where we were, who's to say they know where I live?

I spun around, glaring through the window into complete darkness. Paranoia ate away at my insanity, troubled by how weak we were, despite the weaponry.

A prickling sensation nipped at my flesh like a dozen needles injecting into my skin. It spread across my shoulders as I stared into the heart of the night.

Can they see us?

My head ached with tension from the possibility of being found. "I need to sit down."

"Here, take my seat. I'll stand." Johnathan raised to his feet. "It's late, and after the day you've had, you missed your chemo session today. It's up to you if you want to have chemo before we sleep, if that's okay with you, Mrs Smith?"

Mum shrugged. "Isobel, please."

Amelia, who had been silent all this time, fetched the bag with the chemotherapy drugs and equipment. "I will be administering chemo through an IV push." She inserted the catheter into my hand and plunged the syringe into the injection port, emitting the drug into my bloodstream. "It should take about ten to fifteen minutes." She pulled off her protective gear and followed Johnathan out of the room for a brief pause, leaving me alone with Mum.

"I care about your dad." She brought the wine bottle over and sat opposite, knocking her voluptuous figure into the edge of the table." He broke the news about wanting a divorce." Her tone was tight but controlled.

I wasn't surprised that Dad took this decision and saved whatever dignity he had left, but they both deserved to fall in love and be happy. If that meant they were better apart, then I had to accept that.

She rested the side of her face against her palm, trailing the rim of the abandoned glass with her fingertips. "You know, I've always been jealous of your relationship with Richard. You're a daddy's girl, through and through."

"You made it easy for me." I leaned back in my chair. Funnily enough, I had only inherited my mother's hair colour. Merely a name on my birth certificate, but never worked hard enough for the title.

"You're wearing it." Mum gestured with her head to the charm bracelet hanging around my wrist. It took the attention away from the fading blisters.

I avoided the bracelet. The temptation to take it off increased as the hole in my heart grew from the guilt.

"I've made a lot of shitty mistakes, Erika, but please let me try and make it up to you," she stumbled over her words and tried to hold my hand for assurance, knocking over the glass of wine. The red liquid stained the brown paper folder containing my medical notes. "Bollocks." Mum held it open, flicking through the stained pages.

Grabbing the file from her slack hold, I inspected the pages. The back sheets were untouched from the spillage, while the front pages were the worst affected. I wasn't planning on snooping, but then again, it was my file.

My eyes trailed each paragraph, written in Amelia's handwriting. She took to scribbling notes in my chemo sessions about my condition, or so I thought.

Amelia's handwriting was scruffy like she had written it down in a hurry. A sentence stood out like a sore thumb. 'She knows about Ethan.'

She saw the drawing of Ethan during this session. She knew him.

Does that mean Amelia knows about Shadowbrook, too?

"Could you get me some water, please? I would," I said, lifting my arm attached to the catheter, "But I'm tied up."

She forced a smile, bringing out her dimples. "Sure."

As soon as Mum staggered her way across the kitchen, I rummaged into the bag filled with supplies and chemo equipment. I didn't know what to expect, but I had to hunt for any clue. Amelia could be like my dad and had escaped from Shadowbrook, searching for a new start.

Maybe she knows where he is?

That was when I found it. A rectangular plastic ID card with Amelia's picture slid out between a bag of syringes and tubing.

Amelia Parker.

Shadowbrook permanent resident.

A/N

Word count: 1,458

What are your thoughts on Erika's mother, Isobel?

Amelia lives in Shadowbrook, but how do you think she escaped?

Did she escape as Richard did all those years ago and does she know where he could be?

Have a fangtastic day!

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