Imagine being Louis’s child, and him comforting you after turning you.
Your father hadn’t been in your life much, not until your mother died. She had told you the truth about him, the truth that he tried to keep hidden from everyone. That he was not your average man, who had average interests. That he ... favored men. You were only six years old when you heard this, so the idea didn’t seem so odd. You hadn’t been conditioned to think that it was disgusting or a sin. It just was what it was.
You met him for the first time at your mama’s funeral. You were supposed to be living with your aunt and uncle afterwards, but your father had swooped in and taken you. You recognized him from old photographs. Your mother’s one and only love, who couldn’t love her back but gave her one night ou of pity, not that you understood what any of that meant. A sweet seven years old, you didn’t ask those sorts of questions, no no.
Your life went on for only a week more. Your father told you to say goodbye to the sunshine, which was a weird ask. You spent the days outside, sitting in the sun, feeling the warmth on your skin. You played with other children in the streets, until they found out which house you went home to and then you were shunned. You didn’t understand why. You couldn’t.
And you couldn’t understand why your father came to you in the middle of the night, and hurt you. You screamed and screamed that night, crying as the pain took you over. You tried to push away from your dad, tried to get him to let go of you, but all he did was give you medicine. It was good tasting medicine, but it didn’t make all of the pain go away.
You didn’t understand why everything felt different when you woke up the next night. You had a nightmare, something horrid, something violent. You hadn’t seen that kind of violence before, but now, it felt as if you had experienced it. Your father biting into your neck. Blood splattering all over your pillow and your sheets. Different victims. Your mother, your aunt, your uncle, your grandmother, you saw them all die and - you had been the one to bite their throats out. You awoke dry, parched, completely in the dark. You were encased in something. A box. You called for your Papa, please, come Papa, I’m scared. And he did come. He took the lid off and cradled you in his arms and he told you that things were going to be different now. You were no longer human.
He tried to put things simply, but it was hard to understand. You cried your little heart out when he said that you wouldn’t be able to play with the other kids again. You sobbed until your eyes were sore when you heard that you weren’t going to be able to eat your favorite cakes. You wailed until your voice gave out when he told you that your whole life was going to be focused on quenching this new thirst. He gave you more of the medicine that helped earlier, from a source you did not see, his mouth into yours.
“But do not worry, my little one,” Louis said, stroking your puffy face as you finally began to grow quiet. “You will always have me as your Papa, until the end of time.”
You finally felt calm enough to sleep, and your Papa tried to put you into a coffin of your own, but you remembered too well when your mother had been put in the ground in one of those. That it meant she was never coming back, so you clung to your Papa until he finally relented, letting you sleep with him that night, curled up in in a box his perfect size, so at least if you were gone forever, you were not alone.
Requested by: Anonymous
