David stood up from the table with a heavy sigh.
He picked up his plate and carried it to the sink, setting it down among the dirty dishes with a dull clatter.
His hands trembled slightly.
He quickly walked to the coat rack by the entrance, grabbed his old gray hoodie, and started pulling it on while moving, hurrying as if he were about to miss the last train.
"Already going," he muttered under his breath.
Ethan and Gina watched him silently. Their father had almost reached the door when he suddenly stopped. His hand froze on the doorknob.
He stood there with his back to them for several seconds, as if gathering his strength, then slowly turned around.
"One more thing," he said in a low, serious voice.
"If someone knocks on the door today… anyone at all… and asks to be let in, don't open it under any circumstances. Even if they say it's me, or a neighbor, or the police."
"Understood?"
Gina rolled her eyes, not rudely, more tired than anything else.
"Dad, we know," she interrupted gently.
"If someone knocks and acts weird, I'll shoot salt into their eyes. If they start burning, then it's a vampire or some kind of monster."
"Then Ethan grabs the shotgun and loads the silver shells. We've gone over this like a thousand times already."
She pointed toward a small cabinet against the wall where the weapons were locked away behind a metal door.
"We're not little kids anymore. We can handle it."
David stared at his daughter for a long moment, then shifted his gaze to Ethan. For just a second, there was a trace of pride in his eyes, and he gave them a faint, tired smile.
"I know you can handle it," he said quietly. "Just… be extra careful today."
"After the blood donation, they become more… attentive. Get home safely."
He paused for a moment, then added almost in a whisper:
"If something goes wrong, run to the shelter under the floor. You know the lock code. I'll get back as fast as I can."
Ethan nodded, though everything inside him felt wrong somehow. He looked at his father and thought:
"He says the same thing every time. And every time he's afraid that this might be the time he doesn't come back. Everything will be fine today too… right?"
David looked at both of his children again, as though trying to memorize their faces exactly as they were now.
Then he abruptly opened the door.
"Love you both," he threw over his shoulder before stepping outside.
The door shut behind him with a heavy click.
Silence filled the apartment again. Only the ticking wall clock and the distant noise of the waking city outside remained.
Gina slowly exhaled and looked at Ethan. Her usual cheerful smile was gone.
Ethan silently nodded, staring at the closed door.
Inside him, a heavy, sticky feeling of dread kept growing, the sense that today would become the day after which everything changed.
Gina sat motionless for a while, still staring at the door, then suddenly stood up, pushing her chair back with a loud scrape.
"Well then, shrimp," she said, stretching until her shoulders cracked.
"We're not gonna sit around at home waiting to get eaten. Honestly, my ass is already itching for some adventure. At least before lunch."
She winked at Ethan and nodded toward the hallway.
"Let's go donate this damn blood. The faster we finish, the faster we can get back and pretend everything's normal."
Ethan silently nodded. He stood up, carried his bowl to the sink, and followed his sister.
Heavy thoughts still swirled inside him, but arguing with Gina was pointless. Whenever her "ass started itching," stopping her became nearly impossible.
They left the apartment and headed toward the local clinic, "Red Cross, Northern District."
The morning was chilly, the sky covered with gray clouds. They barely spoke on the way there. Both of them felt the tension hanging in the air.
When they finally reached the clinic, Ethan let out a quiet whistle.
The line was enormous.
People stretched down the entire street in a long winding queue, from the clinic entrance all the way to the corner.
Most of them were teenagers and young adults between sixteen and twenty. Some nervously shifted from foot to foot, some quietly chatted with friends, and others silently stared at their phones.
The atmosphere was far from pleasant.
"Well, damn…" Gina muttered.
"Looks like they're herding everyone in today."
They took their place at the end of the line. Ethan shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and hunched his shoulders slightly. He felt deeply uncomfortable.
Nearby, two nurses in white coats stood off to the side smoking and talking quietly.
"…heard they signed the pact this morning," said one of them, a short brunette.
"Now vampires officially have the same rights as humans. Full equality. Citizenship, jobs, everything."
The second nurse, older and with short hair, snorted and exhaled smoke.
"Equality… sure. Why not call it 'harmony' while you're at it? They just made official what's already been happening for years."
"Now we're not even allowed to complain. 'They're citizens too.' Yeah, right. Except we're the ones giving blood while they're the ones drinking it."
The brunette shrugged.
"Well, at least now it's legal. They won't be dragging people into alleys anymore. Heard they're setting up official donor centers now."
"With some kind of compensation."
"Compensation…" the older nurse scoffed.
"Two hundred bucks and free coffee. Hell, they pay us more than that…"
Ethan stood nearby and listened.
Every word left a bitter taste in his mouth, especially coming from those wild women.
As he looked at the long line of teenagers, a thought crossed his mind:
«They call this equality. But really, they just legalized the fact that we're food. And now we're not even allowed to complain about it.»