It had been a month since Melissa had first come to the old Anderson Mansion. The past thirty days had seemed dream-like: sleeping during the day and being raped much of the night by her host, the supposed Reginald Anderson. Though she wasn't a horror fan, she was indeed aware of movies featuring vampires and Mr. Anderson, at least on the surface, fit the bill. He was immensely strong, never ate the excellent dinners he served her, seemed to shun the daylight and as the marks on her body - neck, breasts, butt, pussy - could attest, was biting her and consuming her blood.
She wasn't a dope either and clearly knew the vampires didn't exist. It seemed much more likely he was a psycho who thought he was a vampire. Yes, he claimed to be, Reginald Anderson, a man that had died a century ago, but what was the proof of that? She had never seen a picture of the founder of the Anderson empire to make a comparison to.
Still, he seemed to hold an otherworldly power over her. As he was never around during the day and there should be little to prevent her from forcing open a door or window and running the couple miles into town and back to her family, but she just didn't seem to have the will to do it.
Of course, there was something else that bothered her about thoughts of home. She was expecting, or at least hoping, that a full scale search would be mounted for her when couldn't be found. She expected to see people combing the fields around the mansion and maybe even searching the house room by room. But there had been nothing. She had discovered an old radio that still worked and managed to tune in the station in Grant Junction. The news carried no reports of a missing teenage girl. Just local advertisements and the scores of the Hemlock High School football game.
What was wrong with her town? What was wrong with her family? What was wrong with herself? Why couldn't she find the will to leave this house? What was his hold on her? Was it that he seemed to need her?
***
It happened after the night that he failed to come to her. Going down to dinner that evening she found a note that her meal was in the old fridge and instructions on how to heat it in the ancient oven. It also said he would not be able to spend the night with her as he had other pressing issues to attend to.
As powerful as the orgasms produced by their "lovemaking" were, she was glad to be able to get a good night's sleep. The next morning the dreamlike quality of her existence seemed have weakened and she decided to explore the building, even though his insidious spirit seemed to keep her from leaving the house.
Climbing up to the attic she found it filled with long forgotten furniture, boxes of old clothes and things that belonged in an antique store. She found an dilapidated chest of drawers, however, that intrigued her. It reminded her of that old card catalogue they had at the library before they replaced it with a computer. That's what she really needed! A computer, or even a smart phone with internet access and email! Alas, there were no computers or phones in the attic and probably not an internet connection to the aging house. In fact, the hill that the house was perched on probably didn't even have cell service. As if that mattered. Her phone had disappeared.
Opening one of the drawers she found some woman's' jewelry. Not junk stuff either. Very old, though. Going through drawer after drawer she found much of the same, though from many different eras. Finally, she opened one and saw that the belongings looked recent. She pulled out one of those cheap bracelets that was made of different plastic letters. The type of that you could find at a mall (As if Hemlock Village would have been big enough to have a mall). Glancing at the name she felt a chunk of ice form in the pit of her stomach. The well worn letters spelled out, "JUNE CONNER."
***
Melissa realized she had to get out of the house. Plainly Anderson, or whatever his name actually was, was definitely a psycho. He had killed June and based on what was in those drawers, many other girls over an unknown stretch of time. This certain knowledge, seem to give her the strength to attack one of the first floor boarded up windows and start prying the timbers loose, even against his pervasive will.
It was noon before she made a hole big enough to squeeze out. Donning her cheerleader uniform again, she started walking to town. The farther she got from the mansion, however, the more tired she began to feel. As if the brick structure itself was trying to drag her back.
In twice the time it should have taken and not seeing a soul on the street, she stumbled into her parents' house, to her surprised mother. By this time too tired to say much other than her mom needed to call the sheriff then she collapsed in her own bed and fell into a haunted sleep.
***
She felt a little bit better when she woke a couple hours later to the voice of her mom talking to Sheriff Campbell in her doorway.
"Sheriff," Melissa murmured to him, "He's at the old Anderson mansion. He must have murdered June Conner and lots of other girls. You got to stop him before he does it again."
"It sounds like you had quite an adventure, young lady," Sheriff Harris replied in a patronizing tone as he walked over to her. "Don't worry, I'll take care of everything. Just roll over and let me see if you have any marks on your back."
This seemed like an odd request, but Melissa complied. Suddenly the man grabbed her by her arms and pulled them behind her. She feel the cold steel of handcuffs snap on her wrists.
"What are you do-" she got out before a piece of duct tape was slapped over her mouth. A few seconds later a black bag was pulled over her head cutting off her vision and she was pulled none to gently to her feet.
"Don't worry, Madam," she heard the Sheriff say to her mother. "I will take her back where she belongs and I'm sure this incident won't affect your arrangement with Mr. Anderson."
***
"You have been a very naughty girl, Melissa," said her host in that deep, velvet voice with just a hint of reproach.
It was night now and she was back at the mansion sitting on her bed, naked, except for some black, platform high heels. He stood there, in that dark suit, looking at her. She found herself wishing he was looking at her with lust on his face, but instead in was disappointment.
"I suppose I've neglected you training," he said. "Perhaps my fault rather than yours. No matter. We will start tonight."
"Why...why did my mom..." she blurted out, but then the words failed her.
"Why did your mother not help you and instead turning you into the Sheriff?" he continued for her. "The town, including your mother have an arrangement with me. I have certain needs and in return for supplying that to me, I help to keep the town economically sound. In the case of your mother, I have also agreed to use my considerable influence to help your sister's career. She has some modest talent for singing and with some lessons and money your mother believes she could be a star some day."
Melissa cringed as realized how this rang completely true. She could see her mother living her life vicariously through Karen. And if she needed sacrifice her older daughter to do it..."
