Vlad remembered that one day when he was around nine, and his mum was on one of her deep cleaning purges. She had taken out a massive bag of photos, handling the bag with such disgust, as if they were burnt memories. Without a second toss she had shoved them in the bin, and when she was sleeping Vlad dug the photos out and found pictures of his Father. He remembered staring at him for a long time, at the doused faded blonde hair, so unlike his own black locks, at his Father's blue sad looking slanted eyes, and that dazzling smile. It haunted his dreams sometimes, all those straight teeth, his tall weedy frame. He looked and looked at that photo so he could burn it into his memory, he never wanted to forget it. He even made up stories about his father. He'd be a kind, passionate man, who owned a bakery. No, not even a bakery, maybe a mechanic shop, or a florist. But Vlad made him out to be a small business type of man, who at the weekends makes chairs out of wood that Vlad can sit on when he's outside playing card games. And his Father would tell him he loved him, give him a kiss on the cheek. Ruffle his hair, sit with him at night and tell him wild stories from his youth. Then in the mornings he would make fluffy pancakes with syrup and strawberries, light coming in from the windows. He'd say to Vlad;

"Let's open up shop together."

Then Vlad will start setting up the cakes, or the toolboxes or the flowers and his Dad will wander across his shop with a relaxed ease, singing underneath his breath, his sad slanted blue eyes brightening at his own creation, and Vlad will say something like "when I'm older I'll take over this shop for you."

"No Vlad." He'd say. "You go and do whatever you want in life."

"But I want to stay with you."

"It doesn't matter how far you go Vlad, I'll always be here for you."

Then Vlad will laugh, and his Dad will tell him to have a good day at school, slip him five pounds and a donut, "get yourself something nice." He'd say and Vlad will run off to school, so blissfully unaware at how lucky he was.

Actually meeting his Father made him all types of nervous. He was at the airport, small and afraid. His social worker was standing next to him with a gentle smile. Her name was Keira and she had short brown hair and a forgettable face. She was a bit annoying as well, but Vlad was too distraught to dwell on it too much.

"I didn't expect your Father to live so far away."

Vlad made a non-committal noise. Too much was happening at the same time.

"I mean... Transylvania. Hah! I didn't even know it was a real place."

Vlad grunted again.

Keira crouched down to Vlad's small frame (he was still waiting for puberty to hit him). "I know this is a lot to handle Vlad. But I really think this will be good for you, you get to start again, start afresh in a new country. I was watching some travel videos about Transylvania, it truly is beautiful. You're going to enjoy it here, I know you will."

But Vlad didn't get the time to respond because he saw a crop of blond hair, sad slanted eyes, his Father. He turned away from Keira, marching over to the man with a determined gait.

"Dad?"

The man smiled hesitantly at Vlad, then looking over at Keira while waving his hand. "I guess I'm taking it from here?" Keira nodded.

"I've sent you everything you needed. It was nice to seeing you Mr Jones. I'm sure Vlad will be very happy."

Vlad's father nodded once more, watching as Keira left. He scratched the back of his head.

"So, uh, Vlad, you ready to get in the car?"

Vlad nodded. He had a strong urge to hug him but something about his Dad seemed off. He was nervous, too nervous.

The car was a huge Range Rover. It looked new, expensive. Vlad settled into the hot leather, looking absentmindedly at all the notches and buttons. His mum didn't drive a car, if they ever went anywhere it was on the bus. "Cars are flipping death machines." She'd say.

The drive at first was quiet, Vlad spent the time looking at his Father. He tried to match the photo to how he really looked like. His hair was more grey than the picture, wrinkles were etched in his eyes and lips, he wasn't as bright looking as Vlad's imagination either.

"You want to tell me what happened?" His Dad tentatively asked first. Vlad noticed he avoided looking at him.

"I thought Keira told you everything."

"Yes, but I'd like to hear it from you."

"Oh well. My mum, she, you know, tried to harm me. She's at a mental hospital now, for schizophrenia and bipolar disorder, at least that's what I eavesdropped, I could be wrong. Then, um, I stayed at my neighbour's house for like a few days, until Keira got in contact with you, and now I'm here."

Vlad's father breathed through his lips, muttering underneath his breath. "How are you feeling Vlad?"

Vlad didn't even know anymore. He felt strange, as if his soul had stepped out of his body and now he was just navigating life through blurry goggles. Nothing was making any sense, it was exhausting. "Just tired. But-" Should Vlad say this? Was it too soon? Was he being too hopeful?

"Hopeful. Now I found you." He said it anyways, because he was eleven and he wanted to believe life could work again. His real father was here, and he seemed normal. That's all he wanted.

"Vlad, I should tell you." His father began, biting his lips while the car thundered through dark back roads. "I work mostly in London, in a very small apartment. I just bought a house in Transylvania because it was cheap and my fiancee is from here. But then she decided she didn't want to stay here and London would be better for us in the long run."

"Oh, so we're staying in Transylvania temporarily." Vlad then began to imagine an explosive image reel of a life in metropolitan London. He could get on the train and see the London eye. Schools there were bigger too, all modern like glass shopping malls. London wasn't too far from Bedford either meaning he could still see-

"I'm staying in Transylvania temporarily." His Father was tightlipped as he said this, jerking the steering wheel forcefully as they rolled into a leafy rocky road.

Vlad was about to formulate a stuttered response until his eyes caught onto the large looming mansion they had slowed to a halt at. It was frighteningly grand and old. Brown, dark crumbling bricks and moss crawled up the sides of the many windows. Stone gargoyles and bats were perched on the turrets, staring at Vlad with their glassy rock eyes. It looked like a mansion from one of his old creepy storybooks.

Vlad's Father stepped out the car, his shoes clip clopping on the cobbled ground. Vlad followed suit, feeling numb.

The door to the mansion swung open suddenly and a young woman stepped out delicately. She was supermodel tall, with thick blonde hair and a bewitching smile. She was clothed in a small black dress and teetering heels, in which she teetered over to Vlad's Dad and hung onto his arm.

"Malcom, baby, you took forever!" She kissed his cheek then looked over at Vlad with an expression he couldn't decipher.

"Er, Marissa-" Vlad's father began, a sick bewildered look on his face. "This is my son Vlad."

Marissa smiled at Vlad, her large thick teeth and gum showing in full display, it was kind of terrifying to Vlad. "Aren't you the cutest button? How old are you? Eight?"

"Eleven." Vlad responded mutely, digging his hands into the pockets of his dusty jeans. Marissa was beautiful, but everything about her was too much. Her hair was too thick, her eyebrows too sharp, her lips too pouty. It overwhelmed him. He noticed she had an accent, it was probably Romanian.

Then emerging from the open door was a Vietnamese man hauling two large suitcases. He was dressed in a waistcoat, dark trousers and gloves. Gloves. Vlad wondered if he was a butler or something.

"Here you go Miss." He said calmly, his eyes downcast to the floor. Butler then. Vlad thought.

"Oh you are too kind Minh. Just pop it in the boot of Malcom's car."

Vlad watched as Minh put the suitcases in the back of the car and he thought about all his own stuff. His mum had threw everything away that day. The only thing he really had was the mouldy clothes he was wearing.

He watched in confusion as Marissa began to enter the car, blowing a halfhearted kiss at Vlad.

"It was nice to meet you Vlad."

Vlad made no response, staring at his Dad whose frame was poised towards the car, yet his gaze was still on him.

"Vlad. I-, you know, I can't take care of you. I haven't for the past eleven years."

"B-but they said-"

"I don't even know you Vlad. You've been abused and destroyed. I want to- but...I can't help you."

Fight Vlad. You need to. He's just scared.
"I'm fine Dad. All I need is to stay with you. I can stay in your flat, you won't even know I'm there. I'm no trouble, honest. I just need a proper parent figure, I promise."

Vlad watched as his Dad's resolve seemed to weaken, he could see it by the way his eyebrows furrowed, the way his tall frame seemed to turn towards Vlad. Then Marissa honked the horn loudly, rolling down the window to expose her too beautiful face.

"What's taking so long love?"

And that was all she needed to say because Vlad knew what his Father was going to do. He was going to start a shiny new life in London with his beautiful fiancée, they'd live in a cute flat, which Marissa would decorate with roses and petunias, better than his Mom could ever do. They'd go for fancy dinners with work colleagues, while discussing politics, toxic waste and taxes. Then they'd step out into the dark London night and dance underneath the polluted sky. He'd tell her he loved her and couldn't wait to start a life and family with her, and she'd laugh, shake all that blonde hair and say 'Yes! Yes!' because even though Malcom was kind of old and kind of ugly and kind of spineless, he had a lot of money and his smile looked alright when it was dark, and the only thing holding him back was his messed up son with too much hair and scars on his arms and legs, and they could just dump him in her old Grandparents house in Transylvania. Yes, that's what his Father was going to do.

"Before you go-" Vlad began, because he knew his Father was going to leave without saying anything. "What is your job?"

His Father looked at him puzzled, but answered anyway. "I'm an accountant for a big bank in London."

Vlad already knew too. His Father was nothing like his imagination created. He was much worse.

"Vlad, I'm not leaving you here by yourself. Minh will be here and Gladys."

"Gladys?"

"She's like a governess, but I suppose she's out on a trip at the moment." Then Marissa honked again, swiping some strawberry lipstick on her mouth. "We'll miss the flight at this rate." She hollered. Vlad's father smiled at Vlad, perhaps for the last time.

"I'll call you, okay?"

No you won't.

"Goodbye Malcom." Vlad said way too bitterly for an eleven year old who really looks eight. He turned away from his Father, looking at Minh who was dusting some bushes off at the entrance of the door. He looked at Vlad with an eerie expression, the curve of his lip twisted into a smug smile. Vlad stared at his feet.

Then he heard the car drive away, and he turned around and watched the Range Rover lumber off into the distance, screeching asphalt and expensive hot leather. Expensive trash.

"He won't come back." Minh spoke with a distinct British accent, his dark eyes swallowing in Vlad's trembling frame.

"One can only hope." Vlad did hope and he hated himself for it.

"You want some dumplings and hot soup? I make a mean dumpling."

"I just want to sleep." Vlad mumbled.

Minh then took Vlad's cold hands, encasing them in his rough calloused fingers.

"I am Minh. Okay?"

"Yeah-"

"And I take care of the house and the grounds. Anyone who lives in the house is a part of the house, meaning I'll take care of you too."

"But you're paid to take care of me. I'm just a burden. You don't care."

Vlad watched as Minh stared deep into his eyes, it was kind of unnerving, it was weird to have someone stare so deeply into you.

"You're right Vladimir. I am paid to take care of you, and I'll always do my job well." Minh then let go, and Vlad's hands felt strangely cold. "Come on."

Vlad followed him into the mansion. He expected the mansion to be freezing cold and drafty, it shocked him coming inside and feeling warm. There was a large staircase to the right, clothed in red velvet drapes. A fireplace was burning to the left of him, stocked with wood, and decorated with old vintage furniture. On the walls were pictures of hook nosed men with vacant eyes, they were dressed in languid gold and silver, from their fingers to the regal robes they wore. Vlad stood there for a minute, basking the grandness of it all for a moment. He hated to think it, but he liked it. He really, really liked it.

Minh walked around with the relaxed gait of someone who has lived here for years, "come help me set the dining table Vlad." He said. Vlad followed him in awe, walking through a long wood-floored corridor with more pictures. "Who are all these people?" Vlad breathed out.

Minh brushed his fingers over a painting of a woman with a harsh frown. "Possibly all the generations that have lived in this house."

"Why do you always call it a house, it's clearly a mansion."

"When you've lived here long enough you'll understand."

Then they both entered the dining room. It was a large grand room, with a smooth oak table with engraved intricate furnishings. The chairs were red plush cushions with gold encasing. They were all rustic and chipped, but Vlad could tell they were made with a lot of love. Minh had disappeared into the closed off kitchen, then came out with a bowl of cutlery and tea cosies. "Set these for me Vlad." He went back into the kitchen with a flourish.

Vlad complied, carefully placing the knives, forks and spoons in a row. He set the tea cosies neatly, the fabric was so soft and gentle it slipped through his fingers. Then everything just hit him all at once, where was he? What was he doing in a strange mansion with a scary butler? He just met his Dad for the first time in eleven years and he wanted nothing to do with him...What was going on? What was-

Vlad started crying, buckling against the table. He splayed his hands flat on the wood, trying to hold himself up as cried. It splattered against the tea cosies as he shook, his head was hurting, he just needed to cry.

"Why is this disgusting creature crying?"

Vlad looked up from his tears to see a tall woman clothed in a black cloak over her head. She slipped it off swiftly, revealing her to be wearing a large inky ballgown with a petticoat. She had long black gloves on and black lipstick. Her hair was held up in a spiral updo, her face full of sharp angles and wrinkles. She stared at Vlad with disdain, dropping down into one of the gold encased chairs, setting down the umbrella and the chanel bag she was holding.

"Who and what in the world are you?"

Vlad swiped his hand over his face, trying to dampen his tears. "Um Vlad."

"You're Vlad?" She laughed haughtily, holding out a wrinkled hand to inspect her neat nails. "No hjyou're not."

"Yes I am, I'm Vladimir Gregory Jones." Vlad didn't know what he was trying to prove to this lady, but she was intimidating, she looked like a witch, a powerful one.

"I'll call you Gregory."

"But nobody calls me that."

"You haven't earned the name Vladimir."

"What do you mean I haven't earned the name Vladimir, it's my name."

She swiped her long fingers across the dining table Vlad was just crying at. "Vladimir's do not break down in tears for first impressions. It's simply uncouth. Rule number one Gregory, never let anyone see you're weak."

Vlad bit his tongue, sinking down into the dining chair, fiddling with the shiny knives and forks.

"Gladys." She said simply. She also had a thick Romanian accent like Marissa's, but hers was more, Vlad didn't know the word for it, assured, confident, all-knowing.

"Okay."

"Okay! Is this how impolite British boys are. Of course Gregory fits you." She sneered at him. "You are impolite, you are weak, you are meek. You dress terrible, in fact you look terrible, when was the last time you showered hm? And those clothes, I've never seen anything so abominable."

Before Vlad could come up with a stuttered response, Minh came tumbling into the dining room with hot bowls of dumplings. He set them down neatly. "Dim sum dumplings!" He sat down at the table, unaware of the tension bubbling between Vlad and Gladys.

"Good evening Gladys. How are you?" Minh began politely, scoffing his way through the dumplings.

"You know I only eat raw meat Minh."

"Not this nonsense again Gladys, I told you, unless you want to pass from salmonella I am not serving you raw meat!"

"It's good for you."

"I am not having this conversation again. Vlad, how are you? Liking the dumplings?"

Vlad didn't realise how hungry he was, he had nearly downed the entire dumplings and the soup. He nodded abashedly, feeling all kinds of weird.

"Gladys treating you right?"

Vlad said nothing, focusing on getting this super large dumpling into his tiny mouth.

"Minh." Gladys cut in. "We're calling the boy Gregory."

"Gregory? But Vlad's a fine name."

"Yes too fine for a little rat like him."

"Hey!" Vlad opened his mouth wide enough to reveal his left fang; it had been growing horribly since, sometimes if Vlad wasn't careful his tongue was prone to continuous bleeding.

Gladys turned to Vlad in awe, her head tilted to the side. "Smile for me Gregory."

Reluctantly Vlad bared his teeth for Gladys, keeping his gaze towards to the oak wood table.

"Remarkable!" She stood up manically. She was graceful, like a swan, long withered hands, legs, and fingers, she stared at Vlad through her eerily grey eyes and it was as if she was lit up with a burning match. "Ultra remarkable."

Then she swanned out of the dining room, grabbing her umbrella, her chanel bag and stifling presence as she left.

Vlad wanted to cry again.

"You okay Vlad?" Minh asked sensitively.

Vlad shrugged.

"Get some sleep, yeah? I'll pack up."

"Thank you." Vlad remembered to locate his manners as he waded his way out of the dining room and back into the corridor. He made his way back into the main hall, up the draped steps and into a large room titled 'the boy's room'. It was mainly empty with a large bed, dresser and ornate mirror. He stood in front of the mirror for a moment, wincing at his dishevelled appearance. His hair had grown out so long; it tickled his shoulders in a mess of dirt and black locks. He scrubbed at the dark circles underneath his eyes, and then tripped himself up into the bed. Sighing languidly.

Get some sleep Vlad. He thought. Thatis all you can do.

☀ ☀ ☀

"Where's the boy now?"

"Sleeping." Minh muttered tiredly. He poured a relaxed hand of cherry red wine into a glass for him and Gladys. "Where did you go anyways? I had to clean up the dining room by myself."
"You saw that boy's tooth didn't you?" Gladys took a refined sip of her wine, sinking into the plush of the dining room chairs. The moon shone in an eerie cobalt and amber, washing her wizened appearance in a ghastly glow.

"Didn't see anything strange about it." Minh responded curtly, then he spat out a sleuth of his drink.

"This wine tastes like dog's shit."

Gladys ignored his last statement, staring intently out of the window, one hand against her wrinkled chin. "It's like a sign Minh. Everything I have been preparing for all these years, it is finally coming into fruition. It wasn't all in vain."
"You sure about that?" Minh stood up with a yawn (knocking down the rest of his wine despite his prior complaints). "The boy is clearly unstable. I doubt he'd bode well with your little plans."

"You're not wrong. He looks like he's probably end up as a serial killer in the wrong hands. Did you see his eyes under all that filthy hair? Soulless. That is what he is. I wouldn't blame him. No file ever made by a social worker would ever unveil the traumas that boy has went through."

"So you're only proving my point that he's unstable." Minh lunged over to the curtains, closing them with a dramatic flourish. He looked over at Gladys with a thoughtful gaze. "What are you thinking?"

Gladys smiled in the newfound darkness. The hoarse tickle of her throat could be heard as she finished the last of her wine. "That boy has nothing. No mother. No father. No hope. He's been thrown into the middle of nowhere after facing one of the worst experiences of his life...to top it all of he hasn't even hit puberty yet!" Gladys cackled; black L'oreal lipstick chapping as she let out cold laughter.

"He's fresh meat on a plate." She stared Minh dead in the face, her laughter ebbing away in the dark. "Unstable isn't the word to describe him. Asta îl face să fie perfect."

"I don't speak Romanian." Minh deadpanned.

Gladys stood up. She slinked off into the ruinous corridor. In doing so, she turned her head slightly, if only to acknowledge Minh partially.

"I know you don't Minh, I know you don't."