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Chapter 2 - Bloody Nightmare

Seamus left the bedroom without a word and collapsed back onto the couch, sighing as he fished out his phone.

He needed a distraction—anything to scrub away the weird tension clinging to him after that strange encounter with Isolde.

He unlocked the screen to see new messages blinking from his girlfriend.

[Morning, honey!]

[What's your plan today? We've got the same class, right?! Let's eat lunch after?]

[Also, I have a surprise for you! No, no, it's not something "positive," you know~ But I promise you'll love it!]

Viviane.

He still wasn't sure how he'd pulled someone like her. They met during freshman orientation and just… clicked.

Their relationship was only a month old, but it already felt like they'd known each other for years.

His fingers moved quickly.

[Morning.]

[Yeah, let's eat lunch. I'm waiting for that surprise.]

He reread the message, gave a satisfied nod, and hit send.

Unfortunately, the moment of peace didn't last. A low creak echoed from the direction of his father's room.

Seamus plugged in his earphones and hit play. It was only 5 a.m. His class didn't start until 9. He could catch hours of sleep if he was lucky.

As the music poured into his ears, he closed his eyes and let himself drift. Until a piercing scream sliced through the sound.

He jolted upright, one earphone falling out. The scream had come from his father's room.

Groaning, Seamus rubbed his face. "Ugh... what the hell now?"

But the more he listened, the more his unease grew. That wasn't a moan or pleasure.

It was pain.

He stared at the door, unsure. "Okay... is Dad just into some seriously weird shit... or is something actually wrong?"

His pulse quickened and he swallowed.

"Alright, alright. I'll just... peek."

He stood up slowly, careful not to make a sound. The closer he got to the bedroom, the clearer it became, his father was screaming.

It wasn't just drunken yelling or some weird nightmare groaning; it was real, sharp, and filled with pain.

"Damn it..." he muttered as he rushed to the door and flung it open.

The sight that met him would burn itself into his memory forever.

There he saw Andrew, naked, lying on the bed with blood covering almost the entire mattress. His eyes were hollow, only the whites visible. His mouth hung open wide, locked in an expression of unimaginable pain.

And on top of him was that same woman, Isolde.

She was grinning, her mouth smeared with blood. Fangs peeked from behind her lips as she lazily licked the crimson from her fingers.

Her nearly naked body glistened under the dim light, red eyes glowing with hunger as she looked down at Andrew like she hadn't had her fill yet.

Then her eyes met his.

Seamus tried to control his breath. He had wished his father would die, sure—but not this dramatically.

He was too nervous to move, paralyzed on the spot, until he blinked and Isolde was suddenly in front of him.

Her cold hand with sharp nails touched his shoulder, freezing and unnatural. Her other hand grabbed his jaw as her face twisted with hunger, her eyes devouring him.

"My daughter is right," she whispered into his ear, her voice soft and chilling, "you are indeed tempting."

Seamus's eyes widened as if he'd just snapped out of a nightmare. His body finally moved, reacting purely out of instinct. He slapped her hand away and turned around to run, to scream, to do something.

Isolde didn't chase him. She only laughed, that same eerie, maniacal sound echoing like a curse as she screamed after him:

"YOU WILL NEVER RUN FROM US, SEAMUS! YOU ARE ALREADY OURS!"

Sweat poured from his temple like a fountain. He ran—desperately—tried to outrun whatever fear clung to his back. And just as he threw the front door open, he was greeted by her again.

Standing there, smiling.

"Boo."

Seamus jolted awake. Sweat flooded his body like no tomorrow. He was still on the same couch, in the same rundown apartment.

He touched his chest, arms, neck—nothing. No blood, no claws. Just his breath and his heartbeat.

The room was already bathed in sunlight and yellow lamp light. He let out a long sigh, then laughed awkwardly.

"Can't believe I had a dream like that... must've been that horror movie I watched with Vivi."

He shook his head.

"Boy! What are you doing? Come here! Your mother cooked something nice for us!"Andrew's voice called out from the small kitchen.

Seamus rolled his eyes. Of course his father was alive and well.

He approached the kitchen, just behind the couch, drawn by the smell of something delicious—bacon and eggs. A rare treat, he barely had time to eat properly with all his classes and double shifts.

He saw his father already eating with delight, grinning with a mouthful as he spoke.

"I've been trying to wake you up! You sleeping princess!"

Seamus only nodded and sat down across from him. But the moment he saw Isolde, his body tensed again.

She was cooking with her back turned, wearing the same black dress as before as if nothing happened.

And true, nothing happened, it was all just stupid nightmare.

But Seamus couldn't shake the image from the dream. The blood, her twisted smile. The way she said he was already theirs.

"What is it, Seamus? Did you have a nightmare?" Isolde asked as she placed a portion of eggs onto his plate.

Seamus shook his head vigorously. It was just a dream. A very bad dream.

"Ah, anyway, we're getting married tomorrow! Exciting, right? No need for a big celebration, just a simple wedding at the civil office. Neat!"

Andrew laughed, half-chewed egg still in his mouth, while Isolde, sitting beside him, smiled with that same suspicious curve of her lips.

Seamus didn't know what to say. It was too sudden. Too shady. But he knew his father wouldn't listen to reason, especially not when he was charmed and starry-eyed over a woman like her.

And Seamus couldn't even bring himself to look directly at them. Not with Isolde's gaze burning into him.

It wasn't the friendly glance of a future stepmother. It was the look of a predator.

Like she wanted to devour him.

'Was it really just a dream?' he thought.

But the doubt had already started to burn in his mind and it wasn't going away.

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