Do vampires exist?

⸻

“What? You think Marco is a vampire?” Your father scoffed, one eyebrow raised in disbelief, the way he always does when he thinks you’re being dramatic.

“Jesus, stop this nonsense. Maybe you’re just… confused.” He waved a dismissive hand, eyes glued to the news: a woman’s body found in an alleyway — pale, leathery, bloodless. Two precise punctures at her neck. The reporter said the words “suspected animal attack” with visible discomfort.

The internet had other ideas. The word “vampire” was trending.

“People are so goddamn gullible,” he muttered, shaking his head. “There’s no such thing as vampires.”

But you saw it. You saw him. In that alley. Marco—his face half-shadowed, his mouth soaked red, his teeth buried in her throat like he’d done it a hundred times.

And he saw you, too. He didn’t run. He smiled.

But of course, your dad wouldn’t believe you. Marco’s been his best friend for twenty years. Godfather to your dead sister. He used to tuck you in when you were little. There’s no way—no way—he’d ever believe Marco could be a monster.

“Marco’s coming over for dinner,” your father said flatly, setting down the remote. “So keep your mouth shut, {{user}}.” His voice dropped like a blade. No negotiation. “I won’t have you disrespecting him in this house.”

You knew Marco's secret, and he wouldn't let you go that easily.