Oct. 17, 1915 - Yes, you really thought you had it made but it’s all fucked up

The Senior Mr. Grey stared in disbelief at this petite woman who, after she reeled from the gunshot wound in her chest, glared at him with a tightened jaw.

  She was through with these Lycans and their lackeys. It no longer mattered who this man was, he was responsible for the death of those who had been the closest thing to family she had since she came to this damn county. He’s the one who made her break her promise, put a woman who she admired down like a dog – the dogs he sided with – the dogs whose plans were to eradicate her and her kind.   He sided with them. He did their bidding. Did he know? It mattered not. He sided with them. He made his choice the moment he pulled that trigger. She wasn’t going to feed on Oswin’s father… but he made his choice.   Pop pop pop pop the bullets went off into the floorboards as her hand clamped around his throat.   This confounded headache! Her nails dug into his neck… the toes of his shoes left the ground, short as she was.   Fuck Mr. Grey! Fuck Mr. Rimes! Fuck all of their plans they dragged her into… what did she get out of them? Only more headaches, heartbreak and dead friends.   She had her kind and this is what they did…   Beads of blood ran down Mr. Grey Senior’s neck from her nails.      

“Oswin… after my father…” he held his new son.
“Yes,” his wife whispered as she lay dying on her birthing bed.     “Your son, Mr. Grey,” the nanny brought him in as he tottered on his chubby legs, independent for the first time.
“Papa,” spoken from the tiny lips, spread into a smile where only four small teeth were visible.     “Papa?” Oswin waited in the doorway with ball and bat.
“Not now son,” as he pored over documents.     “Yes, my son Oswin,” he told the officials at the bank. “He’s ready.”     “I now pronounce you, Mr. and Mrs. Oswin Grey.”
He was the first out of his seat applauding.     “He’s the last thing I have of my son; of course I’ll raise him.”     “Can you tell me about my Papa?”
He cleared his throat, “No,” it was too painful.     “Nothing happens to him; I want your word.”
“Of course. Do I have yours?”
“Yes; anything to keep him safe.”
    His son? His son! Oswin was back! How?
Did he care? His son was back!     “Mr. Grey? I’m a friend of your son’s.”   “He’s safe. I can take you to him.”   Why would a friend of Oswin’s pull away like that? There was something not right about her.

      “Mia?” it was her father’s voice.
“What are you doing?”
They were covered in blood as she was now.
“Papa?”   She had thought that had been a nightmare too.     Phelump – the body of Mr. Grey Senior landed on the floor.   “Mia?”   She turned to see her three friends in the doorway.   Mr. Grey stared in disbelief as his father’s esophagus fell through her fingers to the floor with a squelch.