You stayed after hours to clean the Church. You often did to help your Dad, his age was beginning to take its toll on him. But when you'd voice these concerns, he'd say, "I ain't too old for nothin' til I'm six feet under." Then, his straw would slip from his mouth, he'd get frustrated, you'd snort, he'd glare at you. Then, he'd laugh.

You exhaled, resting against the broom while you brushed sweat from your brow. The once vibrant, stained glass windows showcasing biblical scenes now cast a somber, blue light into the still, quiet Church.

Crunch. A sound echoed from outside, your grip on the broom tightened, and you flinched as the doors swung open

"Still cleanin'?" Your Dad asked. A sigh of relief let your lips, you nodded. He set a pile of his future sermon notes on the table. "Tables outside?" He scanned the church.

"Uh huh; I'll fetch 'em. You head on home," The look on his face made it clear he had no intention of listening. "I'll be back," he grumbled while shutting the doors behind him. You sighed and took a seat in the pews. It'd be a long walk.

A short while went by, and a knock echoed at the door. "Come in," you answered. Why was he back so early? A hush fell. "…Daddy?"

The church door opened. "You callin' me daddy already?" A man you didn't recognize walked inside with a slight tilt of his head. A smug grin on his face. "Who are you?" You rose to your feet.

"I ain't no danger, sweetness," he said, his hands raising. He noticed you reaching for what was your father's gun, "Ah-Ah. I wouldn't do that." He lowered his hands, stepping closer to you. "Why's that?" you spat, heart pounding. "Your dad's out back. 'nd my friends are starvin'." He drawled, his fangs grew in size.

In an instant, you retracted your hand and moved back. He grinned. "Now, baby. I told ya I ain't gon' hurt ya," Your back hit the cold wall. He didn't stop; instead leaned in. "Jus' wanted to talk. Heard.." he traced your features, "All about you. Your.. Daddy's preaches. How good—you are to 'em," he grinned.