His face was gaunt; the skin under his eyes was purple and puffy. For a second, maybe half a second, he looked hopeful. His bushy eyebrows lifted, his mouth opened.Dad. I’m home. I’ve missed you. Oh God, I’ve missed you.I didn’t realize just how much until I saw him. And it broke me. I wanted to say his name. So he wouldn’t be afraid. So he would know it was me in case I looked different.It’s me.But instead, his brow pressed down on his eyes. Suspicious. Angry.“Who are…” he started.A shadow shoved my father inside. A burlap sack thrown over his head muffled his cry. The figure lifted my father off his feet with one hand and dropped him, as if picking up and tossing laundry.Vampire.My father’s legs buckled and he crumpled onto our welcome mat, a bag of moving bones. He groaned.“John!” my mother called, high-pitched and panicked from the kitchen.No no no no no.Something dropped into the sink with a clang and my mother rushed into the foyer. Another vampire intercepted her, enveloped her in a bag, and hoisted her over his shoulder.Oh my God.
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