This takes place in the Necropolis, otherwise known as Lampeter City which, with its residents (vampire, werewolf or other) is my creation and property.  It’s deliberately written in a slightly weird style to sound in the vernacular so any ‘mistakes’ are deliberate.

She was a strange one.

A strange one with a big heart though, I’ll give her that. 

It’s the way she never seemed to look at you, always like she looked straight through you, not focussed…ever.  I always wondered why she never tripped over something. 

Mind you, she said that she always saw things that people overlooked and that she didn’t have to use her eyes. Heh! I always said it was just hippy crap…hippy crap even when she wiped that cut on my arm away like it had never happened.  No scar, no nothing, but I swear that she didn’t use her own arm for a bit afterwards.

Weird.

That’s what everyone said she was, weird.  People used to avoid her except when they needed her to do something, and then it’d be “Thanks Fraeja. Bye!  See you again soon!” and they wouldn’t even offer her a drink…bastards.

And now she’s gone. 

Funny really, to see her lying down there on the bed.  I never saw her lying down; she never seemed to rest, even when she was still.  In a funny way she reminded me of a clear flowing stream.  Never still and you couldn’t see the bottom clearly, even if it was transparent.  Still, no use for metaphors now, she’s dead.

I never noticed how pretty she was. 

Delicate features, no meat on her bones though…that’s a point, I never saw her eat either.  Funny how you don’t think of these things until...

Until they’re gone.

She’s pale too…not just the pale of death, that’s different.  Pale like a porcelain doll.  And her eyes are…were so green…

And they were the last thing that I saw before…

Before

She

Saved

My

Life

Looking up at those soulful green eyes framed by her long brown hair…it went down to her waist, but it won’t grow any more.  Not now.

It’s my fault really.  

All my fault for starting that fight.

I never have been able to control my temper though have I?  Simple way to die…He starts on me, I hit him, I get a knife through the heart, followed by a knife in the stomach again, and again, and again…I can’t describe the feeling of a knife going into you…it stops hurting after a while but you hear it…hear it again and again…like someone carving up meat, and then that was when I found out he was a vampire.

Some one, don’t know who, managed to get rid of the parasite and called her, brought her in and that cool hand got laid on my forehead, like your mum does when you’re sick…then it all went black and all that was left was those big green eyes.

Then I woke up and she was laying there in a pool of blood…my blood but I was fine.  I was so happy, I thought I was invincible until I saw everyone else looking at her, and they weren’t laughing. 

Her arms were cut in the same places mine were, cut like she’d held them up to stop a maniac with a knife…and blood was leaking through her dress.

Someone once told me that she’d said she remembered being born.  She said the first thing she remembered was pain.  Pain across her back and in her loins as she took away the pain of her mother’s labour.  It always looked hard for her to touch people when she wasn’t healing them or something, she’d always wince, like she was feeling it too.  Some people said she took people’s wounds off them and healed them herself.

I always thought that was daft until now, and now I can’t apologise.  Or thank her.

All the wounds are gone now, from me and her.  She said that she spoke through the Mother and the Mother spoke through her….well the Mother, whoever she is, is a bitch.

Just one last look bef…before they take her away.

So still, so still and cold…my hand feels so hot on her face.

Still and cold.

Still and cold…with a rising chest…

A rising chest!

And green eyes, open green eyes…

“The Mother is not ready for either of us yet…”