Confessions

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Confessions
Date of Cutscene: 07 December 2021
Location: Lydia's Apartment
Synopsis: Lydia's father has called her out on lying to them about her vampiric condition, so she invited him over so she can talk about it, and tell him the truth.
Cast of Characters: Lydia Dietrich

Lydia paced back and forth between her kitchen and living room, rehearsing what she would say to her father in her head. He had contacted her last night and had called out her lie she told her parents when she, her girlfriend Raven, and Clarice had come over for Chanukah dinner. When asked about her pale appearance and the change in how her mutant powers manifested, she spun a tale about rescuing mutant children and this was a side effect from having encountered one that could alter people’s powers like that. It wasn’t a particularly /good/ lie, but it had enough elements of truth in it that it was believable.

Except to her father.

He was a shrewd man. A lawyer by trade, one of the highest paid in the city, he was particularly adept at sussing out the truth as well as being skilled at obfuscating them. He rarely practices his trade on his own family, but this time he couldn’t help but catch that Lydia hadn’t been entirely honest. He was gentle in his call out, offering to meet with her so she could tell him what /really/ happened. She was family, and he wanted to help and support her. So, Lydia told him to meet her the next day.

She had arrived early and turned the heat on. She didn’t feel the cold anymore since becoming a vampire, so she usually didn’t keep the heat on, saving money on the electric bill. She had run to the grocery store to pick up some fresh cream to go with the coffee that she started brewing for him, and some cookies. Otherwise, her cupboard and fridge were bare. She didn’t need to eat food, after all.

By the time he arrived, Lydia had managed to calm herself down some. She had already put the beast to sleep earlier in the day. It always takes her a while to do so, and she has to go into it already calm. She wanted to make sure that it didn’t rear its ugly head while talking to her father. It’s not something she can do often, or for very long, since it drains the power of the blood she drinks when she wakes up.

“Hi, Dad,” Lydia says, greeting her father at the door. “Come in, I’ve got a pot of coffee on for you.”

Noah Dietrich is a lanky man in his late 40s. Male pattern baldness had claimed another victim, and his curly black hair is absent on the crown of his head. His skin has that kind of olive tanned look to it, the kind of skin you find on Ashkenazi Jews. So too is his nose large and hooked. However, against stereotype he has a kind of gentle and kind energy to him and radiates a kind of softness in contrast to his angular figure.

“Child of mine!” he says with a grin, stepping into her apartment, hanging his coat up upon the coat rack. “You always know how to treat your guests.”

“Only the best for my father,” Lydia retorts, mirroring his grin. She reaches up to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Come in and have a seat. I’ll make you a cup.”

His hand raises up to where his daughter’s lips brushed his cheek. He had noticed the lack of warmth in it which deepened his concern for his child. “Thank you,” he says, pulling out a chair from the dining room table and sitting in it. “It’ll be a while before dinner, so I’ll have some cream with it.”

Lydia nods and sets about making him his coffee. A French roast and a little bit of sugar and cream to smooth the edges off the bitterness. Just how he likes it. She returns to the dining area and sets the cup down before him before taking her own seat.

“You’re not having any?” he asks.

Lydia scowls. “No, I don’t…” she starts, hesitates, and then retries. “That’s part of what I have to talk to you about.”

“Are you well? You’re paler than you were at dinner, and you’re so cold.” His eyebrows furrow in concern over the state of his daughter.

Lydia grimaces. “As well as I’ll ever be,” she says bitterly. “Dad I…” She trails off. How can she tell him? How do you even start this conversation and gently lead into the fact that you’re a vampire? She concludes that the only way is to just rip the band-aid off. “Dad? I’m a vampire.” She opens her mouth and pulls back her lips and extends her very sharp looking fangs. “Have been since mid-October.”

Noah’s lips pull into a scowl. At first, he thinks that she’s joking, for God only knows what reason. But her fangs add tangible proof to her claims. He isn’t as well versed in vampires as his daughter is, but he knows enough of the signs to believe her.

He’s silent for a while, contemplating. “How did this happen? Is this because of your involvement with the Brotherhood?”

“Oh God,” Lydia breathes. “Where to begin?” She shakes her head, “It wasn’t the Brotherhood. In fact, if it wasn’t for them, I probably would have died. Stayed dead,” she corrects. She purses her lips, thinking. “Okay. You know that golem I created?”

He nods. How could he forget? It was quite an accomplishment to bring a golem to life. Most who have tried have failed, and few rabbis felt the need to create one. But his daughter did it, and for it’s intended purpose: To protect the underclass from its oppressors. Sure, the underclass in question were mutants and not Jews, this time.

“Well, it caught the attention of Hatshepsut, a 3000-year-old vampire, who we happen to be a direct descendent of. I apprenticed to her to hone my magic. Unfortunately, it caught the attention of a rival vampire clan who, to hurt her, kidnapped me with the intention of turning me into one of them. They started the process but were interrupted by Hatshepsut and the Brotherhood before they could finish, but not in time to save my life. So, Hatshepsut did the only thing that could be done and turned me.” Saying it out loud like that makes it sound ridiculous, she thinks. But it’s no less the truth.

Noah sits in silence, watching his daughter as she speaks. Her words were unbelievable, but why would she come up with such a fanciful tale? No, it rang of truth to him. He scowls as he processes this, and its implications and found it to be a little overwhelming. “Well,” he says with a wry chuckle. “I can see why you didn’t want your mother to know.”

Lydia ducks her head in embarrassment. “How could I even tell her?” she asks, helplessly. “You saw how she reacted when she found out I was a lesbian. Can you imagine how she’d react if she finds out I’m a vampire?”

“Not if, but when,” Noah corrects her. “You’re going to have to tell her eventually. I’m assuming that you’re not going to age any longer, and forty years from now she’s going to start wondering why you look exactly the same while we’re old and gray.”

“I know,” Lydia says morosely. “I’m just hoping that I can put it off for a year. Or two. Or ten.”

Noah chuckles, and nods. “Listen,” he says. “You don’t have to do it immediately, and you don’t have to do it alone. I’ll help you when the time comes but… the longer you wait, the more she’ll wonder. I married a smart lady, and she’ll pick up that something is wrong.”

Lydia nods in understanding. “Okay. Just. Not any time soon. It was enough to come out to you.”

“Take your time,” he says. “I won’t pressure you. After all, I didn’t say anything when I suspected you might be gay.”

Lydia chuckles, “This is true.”

They’re silent for a while, Lydia fidgeting under the table and Noah taking a sip and regarding his daughter. “Okay,” he finally says, breaking the silence. “You’re a vampire. How are you handling it? How are /you/ doing?”

“I’m handling it.”

“Are you?”

Silence. “No, not really,” she says again, unable to really lie to her father. She looks up at him, looking like a lost child. “I died, Daddy,” she says in a small voice. Scarlet tears begin to well in her eyes. “I’m dead. The world’s become a nightmare since I came back. I don’t do the things that the living do. My heart doesn’t beat. I don’t breathe. I don’t eat. I don’t even sleep, really. I just… stop existing while the sun is up. My girlfriend still blames herself for making the call to resurrect me, and my best friend is afraid of me.”

Tears begin to fall, leaving lines of blood down her cheeks. “They hide it well,” she says, “but one of the ‘perks’ of becoming a vampire is that all my senses are heightened. I can tell by the way that their hearts beat, by the way their pupils dilate, by the way their scents sometimes change. I’m dialed into it /all the time/, for /everybody/ around me. It’s maddening. “

“And I have to constantly fight this /thing/ inside me. It’s angry, possessive, and /hungry/. It’s the thing that constantly reminds me that people are /food/.” She shakes her head. “I don’t want them to see me struggle,” she says. “It’d only concern them or make them afraid of me. It’d only make things /worse/. So, I hide it.

“And then there are these God damned /tears/” she says, angrily. She gets up so suddenly, her chair flies back from the violence of it. “I can’t even have a good /cry/ without getting blood everywhere.” She stomps over to the kitchen and pulls out a roll of paper towels and starts to clean herself up. “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she says. “I’m just going to keep existing forever until the day that I meet my violent end.” She chuckles bitterly. “I’m not even allowed to have a peaceful death.”

Noah listens to her as she talks, a deep sadness rising within him. “Oh, Ahuva,” he says, rising from his seat and going over to where his daughter is standing, furiously wiping away tears of blood as soon as they fall. He goes and embraces her, pulling her head to his chest.

“Don’t,” Lydia says weakly. “You’ll get blood on your shirt.”

“My shirt can be washed,” he replies softly. “You are hurting, Ahuva. What kind of father would I be if I did not comfort you?”

Lydia wants to sob. She feels the tightness in her chest that would prevent her from breathing that a good sob would alleviate. She doesn’t need to breathe, though. So, she stands there with her head against her father’s chest, gripping his shirt in her fists and silently weeps.

Noah holds his daughter tight, and starts to rock back and forth, soothingly. Softly, he begins to sing a lullaby in Hebrew. It’s the one that he always sang whenever she was too sad or upset to do anything as a child. It takes a second round of the song for Lydia to calm down enough to let go of her grip on his shirt.

“It’s okay,” he says softly. “For as long as I am alive, I will be there for you. No matter what you’ve become, no matter how great you struggle, I am your father, and you can always come to me.” He squeezes her tightly, before releasing her so he can look at her at arm’s length. “Oh, I am so proud of you,” he says. “Remember when you got your mutant powers? You were so strong then. Always so proud to be a mutant and you never let anybody’s reaction to it get you down. It was a big change and you handled it with a grace that few would have. This, too, is a big change, and I have no doubt you will handle it with the same grace. If you are to be a vampire, then you will be a /proud/ one, okay?”

Lydia silently nods along as Noah speaks, his words bolstering her. She gives him a little nod, feeling much like a child. “Okay,” she says.

“That’s my girl,” Noah says. He lets out a good, cleansing sigh and gives her a smile. “I should get back to your mother.”

Lydia picks at his shirt where her tears stained the shirt. “What are you going to tell her about this?”

“I’ll tell her I cut myself shaving.”

“Dad!”

“She’ll know there’s more to it than that,” he admits, “but she’ll know not to press.” He walks back over to the coat rack and pulls the coat on, buttoning it up to hide the bloodstains. “You should visit more often. Would you like to come over for Christmas?”

“Dad, we don’t celebrate Christmas.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t come over and visit,” he retorts. “I’ll see you then.” He gives her a wide grin before opening the door and braving the winter weather, leaving Lydia standing there, feeling the warmest she’s ever felt since she died.