Lycoris awoke to the shrill beeping of an alarm clock. Another morning, marked only by the numbers on the screen. She had to trust it, as she could never tell if the sun had risen. Lycoris lived in an underground laboratory with no windows. She was a scientist, a young and talented one at that. At just nineteen years old, she could be considered a prodigy. 

Her father was a rich man with many connections; a famous doctor. Growing up, he provided her with tools & education. 

He was kind enough to eke out a tiny portion of his income for her to live off, and to provide her with a space to live & practice her work. 

This was on the condition that Lycoris stay far away from him and practice her “perverted” science all alone.

Since childhood, Lycoris had been acutely aware of her father’s disapproval. She was in school for a short time before being pulled and homeschooled. She couldn’t assimilate with other kids if she tried because her demeanor seemed “haunted” and she said things that scared them. 

She acted out and got frightened easily. He’d never gotten her diagnosed with anything, but made no effort to shield her from discussions with colleagues on “keeping the retarded daughter a secret”. He kept her in one room and gave her things when she asked. She was allowed outside once a year; in the dead of night and under heavy supervision. 

To cope with the living situation, Lycoris formed a dependency on the peace of her imagination.

 She found a strong interest in gothic literature and her favorites were the ones about vampires.

Lycoris would spend so many hours getting lost in those books, that they began to feel like reality. Sometimes it felt like the characters were her friends or lovers; they talked to her in her head when she felt scared. Reading, journaling, and playing on the computer were all she did. She made some online friends, but wasn’t allowed to tell them much due to her father’s spyware.

Lycoris grew fixated on vampires because she identified with the idea. Being hidden from society made her wonder if she wasn’t afflicted with a similar darkness & no one had bothered to tell her. 

She chose to dedicate her life to making these creatures exist, if they didn’t already. This drove her to become a scientist; a mad scientist. 

She spent her whole adolescence studying science and biological manipulation. Since she had to learn advanced chemistry too, she tried her hand at making designer drugs to take the edge off. Lycoris was clearly successful, as she developed an addiction to them; spending every possible minute of her life high. She hoped it’d be an act of rebellion, but her father didn’t care.

Once Lycoris turned eighteen, she was allotted freedom to go outside without permission, and her own underground laboratory. Her dad owned it legally, but it was hidden far away from his residence so that no one would find it & trace it back to him. Lycoris often wondered why her dad didn’t have her killed if he found her existence so humiliating, yet she figured he may still have some twisted affections toward her. Perhaps he was saving her to exploit her abilities, or just found her entertaining like an imprisoned clown. Regardless, this was where Lycoris lived now. 

In the present moment, Lycoris had just gotten out of bed; her body weak from exhaustion.

The environment was ominous and filthy; a single green-tinged white light flickered rhythmically overhead. There were tables, containers, and equipment scattered all over the place. Blood-stained restraints, scratched cardboard, and empty bowls could be seen in a distant corner. Though the lab was small, it had the necessities; running water, a fridge, plumbing, et cetera. It was one large room with a ladder leading upwards to access the outside world. The ladder was extremely long, and being outside was scary, so she avoided it unless necessary. 

Lycoris choked back nausea and her head spun violently because she hadn’t taken her pills yet. She scooped up a handful off the floor and swallowed indiscriminately. 

Ah, that was better. All tension dissipated and her mind began to float freely. 

Stumbling to her feet, she checked herself out in the tall bedside mirror. Her reflection was that of a spindly, malnourished, red-haired cat girl donning a lab coat. 

Her bloodshot green eyes stood out against her white face-fur like mold and rust on a decaying wall. Lycoris felt an emotion she thought was sadness, but quickly shook her head and discarded it. When she became a real vampire, she’d have no reflection. This thought comforted her like it always did, and she couldn’t help but stoop to her knees and clutch her face gleefully.

 Imagining how cool she’d be, how vindicated she’d feel in living the life that she had, was just too exciting for Lycoris. Her spiral shaped pupils dilated as the drugs kicked in fully. In a mindless fervor, she dug her claws deep into her face and scratched it. After reeling for a moment in confused pain, she grew more excited watching the blood drip. Lycoris stooped lower to the floor and then laid there in a trance-like state; lapping up her blood as it collected in a puddle. Daydreaming, she thought of her goals and what she’d do later that day. 

Lycoris wanted to be a vampire, but a vampire was useless without vampire friends. She had a few people she spoke to online, but she’d never met them in person. Lycoris wanted nothing more than to meet the people she typed to on her computer. She wanted to read with them and speak to them and hug them. She wanted to help them with experiments so they could become like her. Then they’d finally understand. 

When Lycoris thought about this too hard, her eyes started to twitch and burn and she didn’t understand why.