Vampire’s Veil Of Obsession

Lilia tried to catch her breath, her chest heaving with the effort. The night air wrapped around her like a cloak, its bite sharper with each inhale. She shivered, but it wasn't just the cold. Something else—something more sinister—was in the air.

"I felt someone," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Someone was watching me." Her words came out in jagged gasps, barely audible against the thick, oppressive silence of the night.

Her mother's eyes narrowed, a sharp glint flashing across her face like the edge of a dagger. "You felt who? What on earth are you doing out here in the middle of the night, dressed like this?" Her voice cracked through the stillness, cold and accusing. She took in Lilia's nightdress with such disdain that it felt as though her very presence was being dissected. "What are you thinking, wearing that?"

Lilia's heart sank. The way her mother looked at her—full of disgust, full of judgment—cut deeper than the cold that nipped at her bare arms. Every word from her felt like an accusation, a blow to her fragile sense of self. The nightdress, delicate and beautiful as it was, seemed flimsy against the bitter chill, fluttering around her legs in the gusts of wind, leaving her exposed, vulnerable. Her mother's gaze pressed down on her, heavy and suffocating, like a stone lodged deep in her chest.

For a moment, it felt as though she were shrinking beneath her mother's scrutiny, as though she could vanish into the shadows and escape the weight of her judgment. But no matter how hard she wished, the suffocating presence of her mother's gaze remained, unrelenting.

"I—I'm not… I'm not…" Lilia stammered, her voice faltering as she tried to explain, but the words stuck in her throat like a lump of cold stone. How could she explain? How could she make her mother understand? How could she make her see the fear that had lodged itself deep inside her, twisting and gnawing at her from the inside out? How could she describe the constant feeling that someone—or something—was watching her, following her every move?

Her mother's grip tightened around her wrist, nails digging in like sharp daggers. She yanked Lilia toward the mansion, the force making Lilia stumble, nearly losing her footing. "You should know better than to wander around at this hour," her mother hissed, her voice low and venomous. "And dressed like that? What will people think? Are you trying to make a fool of yourself?"

The bitterness in her mother's voice twisted Lilia's stomach into knots. Each word chipped away at her, leaving her smaller, weaker, less than. The air nipped at her skin, but it was nothing compared to the chill that spread through her veins with each passing moment. "Is this some kind of ritual you're performing out here in the middle of the night?" her mother sneered, disbelief lacing her voice.

Lilia's mind raced. Ritual? What was her mother talking about? The words stung, sharp and cruel, but something deeper gnawed at her—an unsettling flicker of something darker, something sinister in her mother's words. The humiliation seeped in, creeping up until it threatened to drown her. She had always felt like an outsider in her own home, but this felt different. Her mother's suspicion wasn't just criticism—it was a chain, tightening around her neck, suffocating her, strangling her. It was more than she could bear.

"No, Mom, I… I didn't—" Lilia's voice cracked, but her mother silenced her, cutting her off before she could explain.

"You didn't what?" Her mother scoffed, rolling her eyes in exaggerated disbelief. "You think I don't know what's going on? Are you in love with one of the servants? Or maybe one of the security guards? Is that why you're sneaking around at this hour?"

Lilia's breath caught in her throat, her heart skipping a beat. The accusation struck her like a slap, sharp and stinging. Her cheeks burned, a mixture of embarrassment and anger rising within her. The sting was raw. How could her mother think so little of her? How could she jump to such a cruel conclusion? Lilia opened her mouth to defend herself, to explain the overwhelming fear that gripped her, but the words lodged in her throat, stuck there as if swallowed by the suffocating weight of the situation. Her mother had already made up her mind.

"No, Mom, I swear, I—" Lilia's voice trembled, cracking under the strain of emotion, but her mother didn't give her a chance to finish.

"Stop swearing, you liar," her mother spat, venom dripping from her words. "Why can't you ever be like Sabrina?"

Lilia's chest tightened, as though a vice were closing around her ribs. The comparison to Sabrina—the perfect twin, the one who could do no wrong in her mother's eyes—cut deeper than anything else. It wasn't just a blow to her pride; it was a reminder of everything she could never be. It made her feel smaller, weaker, less than. Her mother's words twisted inside her, pulling her apart.

But her mother wasn't listening. Her grip on Lilia's wrist tightened, as though trying to bend her to her will. She yanked Lilia forward so roughly that she stumbled, nearly tripping over her own feet. Her heart hammered in her chest, and the fear that had been simmering beneath the surface twisted into something darker, more desperate. She couldn't explain herself—not to her mother, not to anyone. The fear, the overwhelming dread, was too much to put into words. The sensation of being watched—someone—or something—lurking just beyond her awareness, was closing in, tightening like a noose around her throat.

"I… I keep feeling like someone's watching me. Someone's always there," Lilia whispered again, her voice barely audible, but her heart pounded so loudly that it drowned out her words. She glanced around nervously, her eyes darting from shadow to shadow, as though she expected someone to step out from the darkness at any moment. The feeling was relentless. It gnawed at her, crawling beneath her skin. She could have sworn someone was watching her from her room window, the cold, unsettling gaze piercing through the glass. Every time she looked, she felt it, but when she checked, no one was there. It was driving her to the brink of madness.

Her mother didn't seem to hear her. "Shut up," she snapped, her voice sharp with impatience. "Go to your room. Now."

The words hit Lilia like a physical blow. Her knees felt weak, trembling under the weight of fear and frustration. Her throat tightened, and she opened her mouth to protest, but no sound came. The suffocating fear inside her was too big to voice. She couldn't make her mother see. She couldn't make her understand. It had always been this way—useless. Her mother had already passed judgment.

"I can't," Lilia whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "I'm scared. I can't go back there."

Her mother's eyes flashed with impatience. Frustration flickered in her gaze, but her words were cold, biting. "You can't go back there, but you can sneak out to meet your lover boy in the dead of night?"

Lilia's heart thundered harder in her chest. The words felt like acid, burning her from the inside. The fear, the pain, grew unbearable, suffocating her. But the worst part—the thing that truly tore at her—was that her mother was so certain, so unwilling to listen. She couldn't even consider that something else was happening. Something real, something terrible.

Before Lilia could speak again, before she could try one last time to explain, her mother's hand shot out, and the slap landed across her face with a resounding crack. The sound echoed in the night, and Lilia gasped, her eyes welling with tears. The sharp sting left her reeling, her cheek burning with humiliation. She could taste the salt of her tears before they even fell, and a wave of embarrassment washed over her.

Was that really necessary?

"Upstairs. Now," her mother ordered, her voice low and final. It was the kind of command that left no room for argument, as final as the click of a lock on a door.

Lilia's legs felt like lead. The weight of everything—the slap, the cruel words, the fear inside her—made it nearly impossible to move. Her breath hitched in her chest, and she felt herself on the brink of breaking. She couldn't go back to her room—not with the feeling that someone was watching her, waiting. The walls of the house, once a place of comfort, now felt like a cage. She wanted to scream, to run, to escape, but her body betrayed her, refusing to move.

She took one unsteady step forward, then another, but each movement felt like an eternity. Her heart thudded in her chest, its beat echoing in her ears.

It wasn't just the feeling of being watched. It wasn't just her mother's harsh accusations. There was something deeper, something darker—and it was coming for her.

Just then, they both heard a deep voice break the silence.

"What's going on here?"

Lilia's lips trembled, and she fought to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. She turned, and without needing to be told, she knew it was her father.