There was one thing that kept her going, and that was her brothers. As she touched her face, she sighed. She then looked at her hand and her arms, rubbing them together. She was still so youthful. There was no way Mira could go home.
“Oh brothers, how I miss you.” She whispered. She missed the way they felt when she was scared, when nightmares riddled her dreams. Mira missed the feeling of hogging one of the beds of her brothers, of hearing them complain that she always hogged the blankets. That she should sleep in her own bed.
It was time to let go of the past though and stop being so afraid. Surely, even in this state, she hoped that the love of family would overpower the fear of what she was. When Mirabelle lusted for blood, there was no stopping her. She wasn’t graceful, she wasn’t clean. Mira bathed in blood. There was a side of her that longed to rip through flesh - to feel the warmth of the bitter liquid not only with her fangs, her tongue, but with her hands and the rest of her body. There was a side of her that no longer cared for life, but only cared to relish in the pleasure. Mira was learning to drink small and conserve, but she had a hard time doing so.
It was time for her to know her brothers again. It was time to have a family. The doubts in her mind were pushed aside. Surely they would accept her. Mira watched the home for a few days, hoping to catch the sight of someone she would know. Would she recognize them? She thought insanity finally set in when her brothers looked only a few years older than she had been when she left. Were they…? She had the false feeling of her heart fluttering as hope filled her blue eyes. Before any kind of light would threat to harm her, Mirabelle found a way into the home through the back, staying hidden and silent. She looked through old rooms, finding her childhood bedroom. Tears welled in her eyes and she started to go through her old things. Nothing was packed up and put away. It was exactly where she left it. Did that mean they missed her?