I was born by the river

...in a little tent

Oh and just like the river I've been running

...ever since

It's been a long time

...a long time coming

But I know

...a change gonna come, oh yes it will

It's been too hard living

But I'm afraid to die

'Cause I don't know what's up there

...beyond the sky

It's been a long, a long time coming

But I know a change gonna come

Oh yes it will

I go to the movie

And I go downtown

Somebody keep tellin' me

Don't hang around

It's been a long, a long time coming

But I know a change gonna come

Oh yes it will

Then I go to my brother

And I say brother

...help me please

But he winds up knockin' me

Back down on my knees, oh

Obie moped.

She was on time for the alarm clock's song that hung from the clenched fist of a dead man, hanging face down halfway out the window with the broken glass shooting out his back.

Her old neighbor had a passion for the classics. She remembered the times he dragged Obie from her porch's steps to listen to legends such as Aretha Franklin, Celine Dion, Jackson Five and most importantly, Sam Cook. Old man Robert felt her mother and father wanted to raise Obie in a millennial era in which her generation rather listen to rap from current artists such as Migos, Chris Brown and Nicki Minaj. He viewed rap as the broken language of the oppressed, who lost the song in their ancestors' song.

Whatever that meant.

Obie used to bite her cheek while listening to old man Robert's rants. She enjoyed her generation's music. She liked Beyonce, Jay-z, Keri Hilson, Chris Brown, Lil Wayne and Meek Mill. Her playlist can go on and on, however, her neighbor hated to ask.

She wondered if she was wrong for avoiding him in the past. Obie failed to see old man Robert as a lonely man, who lost his daughter in a plane crash and desired someone to talk to.

She could've said something.

She could've said good morning.

Unfortunately, he died a painful death and he was alone.

Now, she was reminded every Wednesday at 9 p.m. through Sam Cooke.

There have been times that I thought I couldn't last for long

But now I think I'm able to carry on

It's been a long, a long time comin'

But I know a change is gonna come

Oh yes it will

"Not any time soon, Sam." She murmured.

This music was going to attract unwanted attention.

Obie walked to her property, pushing through the creaking metal white gate. Her home was brick built and attached to another house. She set up traps on the ground to warn visitor's off to another direction.

Her front yard had one skinny walkway to the steps of the porch as two dead garden sets closed around it. Weeds grew to its highest height, beige and browning down to its deathly stage. The green grass rising surprisingly from the dry, deserted dirt enclosed around the dying weeds and masked the decaying plantation. Also, masking her little boobie traps.

Obie kind of came up with a cool idea. Not really hers.

She dug up 2 feet wide, 3 feet deep holes across the two dirt yards. She painted down blankets to match the surroundings, so when she placed them over the holes, it camouflaged. Though, that wasn't the best part. Within the holes were what she called the Home-wreckers; inspired by the world's most dangerous species known to marriages. Obie attached coil spring traps inside. They were devices with two metal bars that snapped around a foot, like a jaw, if stepped on. The enclosure was so strong if one tried pull out of it, they will wreck the joints or the bones around the ankle. It was originally meant for wild animals such as muskrats, raccoons, foxes.

Initially, Obie wanted the traps seen in scary movies where the serial killer planted the coil springs but instead of the smooth bars, it was sculpted like actual teeth. Ehh...then she asked, did she want the attention of blood suckers around who can smell the fresh scent.

Not really.

Obie walked around the home to the backyard to the actual entrance. She bordered up every door, window or ventricle from the inside and outside. Also, in between the inside border and outside border of the doors, Obie added layers of sharp metals. She intricately created holes on the outer doors that matched the piercings of the knives she took apart. She never got the chance to execute the trap, however, if someone decided to break in from the front door. Obie had to push the inside door to press the inner layer of knives forward into the holes of the outer door, then they'll cut through the intruder.

A lot of gory shit.

This idea was definitely self-made.

There was a small window to the basement. She curled her fingers under the border, lifted the wood to expose the metal shade her father was worked on to prevent a home invasion before he turned. The test run for his invention was successful and the panel can open from the inside with a security code. Unfortunately, he never got the chance to finish it.

She chuckled lightly.

If only her father knew, there was a glitch.

Obie used a skinny metal pointer like the things teachers used to point out something specific on a map. There was a tiny hole in the corner, leading to a pile of wires. She discovered the almost invisible corner, while on the run from three vamps and locked out of her own home. Obie had to hide in the backyard and just as her luck predicted, the backdoor was jammed. All in all, Obie tried to break through the window and began sticking things in corners to disrupt the mechanical wiring to create a malfunction. Surprisingly, the malfunction gifted Obie with an entrance into the home.

Ever since then, Obie used this until she found another place to manipulate as an entrance.

It lifted.

"C'mon B."

She put her animal through the hole and onto the sink below.

Obie smiled as sleepy Burrito took in her surroundings till she realized she was home. "Happy to be home."

She worked her body through the window, using her feet to anchor on the sink without stepping on B. As she pried her head through finally, Obie breathed in relief and jumped off the sink.

Burrito already ran off.

Obie opened the cabinet, retrieved the remote and shut the border down to where it belonged. Hearing the small impact when it shut produced relief deep breaths within Obie.

Finally.

After weeks of traveling, Obie was home.

She bypassed the basement's decorative white tiled bathroom; one American standard white Jacuzzi, walk-in glass shower, and double basin, stainless steel sink. Obie traveled through the small bedroom section, consisting of a king sized set, large vanity mirror, mid-century brown nightstand, and dark dresser; into the large family area where there were laid back leather couches with a flat screen T.V. in front.

The first floor held the congested kitchen; the grey granite table top was five foot apart from the stainless steel sink, small countertop that lead to the silver stove and fridge. Obie believed her father wanted more space for the dining and living room; all separated by hollow beige walls and curved thresholds without doors.

She emptied some dog food in Burrito's food bowl in the corner after she swept the cobweb from within.

The fat possum started going in.

Her home for the most part was clean as she last left it as usual.

The outside of the home was the complete opposite, nevertheless she preferred it to appear disjointed. The inside was a different story.

Obie moved around constantly to avoid her parents finding her. It was a nuisance. But she had to take care of the home. Sometimes Obie would return in weeks instead of days. Therefore, before leaving, she had to clean and disinfect the house to keep the lousy insects and rodents from running down the house, eating through the wood or preventing mold. She needed a stable environment to return to, not a hazard. It was one of those materialistic things attached her to her old parents.

"Alright, B." Obie swung her head back to the feeding possum. "I think it's time."

She stuck a broom stick between the threshold and door of the storage closet. B would need access to the food supplies, if the vampire lied and she did turn this night.

The nineteen-year-old girl sighed, walking up the stairs to her room and closing the door.

As much as Obie wanted to believe the talking vampire, she was too smart for that. She didn't just return home because she missed the familiar aroma.

She came in case she turned.

She recalled her parents' symptoms.

On December 19th 2017, in the midst of the night, Obie snuck out to join the only best friend in her lifetime to a secret party at a "trap house". She wasn't necessarily sure what was a "trap house". It sounded dangerous and hazardous, which equaled fun to a teenage girl whose dream was to rumble with the worse of them and meet the boyfriend of her parents' nightmare. Except, when Obie arrived in her tight body con dress, she was in an environment filled with weed, molly and regular dressed kids, who messed around in closed spaces.

Obie returned home, sneaking through the window. She thought her parents were up and absolutely ready for the kill when she heard loud breathing from the other room. There were these odd banging noises next to her parents' bedroom. She assumed they were doing the nasty or whatever until she heard her father's voice.

Obie had two seconds to think about the punishments her father was going haunt her with for the remainder of four months. She calculated the duration by doubling the time she was on punishment last time. Long story short, skipping gym class and going to the mall cost her two months of her nonexistent life.

Reluctantly, Obie's hand was accompanied by the nervous shakes and sweat protruding out of her beige palm. She entered the room and remembered the haunting process of death in her father's face. He was on the ground, sitting up, and back to their closed bathroom door as it shook, vigorously. His natural dark brown skin was unmistakably grey, his hairy chest extended out largely and contracted in tightly in a fast pace, and eyes widened, straying away from his normal coloring to something pale.

"Obie," he croaked.

Obie abandoned the memory, afraid to go in depth with the last moments with her father and the moments she never got to have with her mother.

She focused on the signs; her father's appearance, erratic breathing, immobility, the fever, sour throat, and inflammation of the tongue he complained about earlier. Her mother was the same way. Consequently, Obie should turn similarly.

Unlike the girl she met at target, whose father turned abruptly at his own meeting.

Sliding her drawer out, Obie pulled the handcuffs and the pistol she picked up from a policeman's dead body.

Her plan was to handcuff herself to a steady, unmovable bar, and then wait for the symptoms to kick in. The handcuffs were insurances, in case she mistakenly falls asleep and don't wake up to the same person.

As she touched the cold metal, Obie used the temperature to soothe the rising anxiety.

She clasped one side of the cuff under the built in radiator.

The nineteen-year-old girl was scared.

She sat down.

Maybe, Burrito was going to be alone in a world where both human and vampire were gunning to eat animals. She could barely fend for herself since she was raised in a homely environment and not familiar with this type of wild life. Till this hour, Burrito depended on Obie to survive; for food and protection.

Obie officially cuffed her hand. The key was in her pocket; if she turned, her flaccid mind would not remember.

Obie sighed against the wall.

She prayed the vampire was truthful. She prayed for it hard.

A tingling feeling tickled around her eyes.

Her fingers gripped the gun; the index finger teasing the trigger. The feeling shook Obie to the core. She didn't know whether the sensation was one of the first steps to transformation or it was itchy.

Either way, the shit was frustrating and it was going to be a long evening.