Author: Brixxia PM
Bloodlines is a story about the growing love between Catherine Coulton, a half-vampire, half-human princess, and a vampiric ex-servant named Royahn Alexander. It all started in a small town...Rated: Fiction T - English - Supernatural/Romance - Chapters: 3 - Words: 2,094 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 3 - Follows: 2 - Updated: 05-02-08 - Published: 04-24-08 - id: 2509108
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Shit, was the first thought I had as I heard the shrill sound of my alarm clock, signaling the first day of my last year of high school. This place sucks.
I bludgeoned the offending piece of furniture until it shut down, then glanced at the electric display, reading six in the morning. I lay there, processing what I had stayed up to draw last night. The sketch showed the same man you could find artwork of all over my room and studio, but this time he was leaning back against a tombstone that came to waist-height on him. He was amazingly beautiful, that much was for sure, although my art didn't portray it to the fullest. The image in my head was so much better.
If you paid attention to the art lining the walls and floor of my haven, you would see variations of him with or without vampire fangs. In my head, I thought his name was Royahn. Royahn Alexander.
I have imagined so many scenes of him that the smaller, although still good-sized room on the third floor was completely full of drawings, paintings, and pastels of him, all of them darker in appearance. I have at least three drawings of each stage of his life. The odd thing is, though, that I can't seem to do even a simple outline of him over the age of eighteen. No matter how hard I tried, any way I made him look even slightly older seemed fake. In my mind's eye, it was as though he'd never grown up.
He was painfully beautiful, though, with smoldering eyes framed by long lashes, high cheekbones, a straight, thin nose, full lips, and a strong jaw, creating a face any sane girl would melt to see, with dark wavy locks framing it.
I sat up, stretching, and glanced quickly at the display again, now reading 6:18 AM.
I spend too much time thinking about him, I thought as I dragged my weary body down the attic steps and into the bathroom in the hallway. The fluorescent orange of the sinks where I had picked away at the white paint stunned my eyes as I turned on the shower, checking to make sure there was no cold water on.
Once I finished my shower, I trudged to my bedroom to the left and down the hall, now fully awake, thanks to the boiling water I had just subjected myself to. I opened the french doors that lead to a small balcony that overlooked the backyard, then walked to the opposite side of my room and opened my antique wardrobe, but not before looking in the full-length mirror on the door.
No matter how many times people said I was beautiful, I was never going to admit it. I secretly thought I was pretty, but I don't like compliments. I was five feet three inches, and had a pretty flat stomach, accented by thin yet muscular limbs. My skin was fair from hardly seeing the light of day, and was the flawless envy of many girls. My full mouth was shadowed by a straight nose, with wide, deceptively innocent dark eyes set evenly on either side. My hair was dark chestnut in color, the bottom reaching the small of my back.
I had to admit, I was slightly attractive. That only made it harder for me to understand why everyone avoided me like I was the embodiment of the black plague.
After I finished looking myself over, I peered into my wardrobe and grabbed my favorite black dress. The first day of senior year is a big deal, after all, I thought wryly, smiling to myself as I threw on my undergarments, and then slipped the dress over my head. It came to mid-calf, and was from my favorite thrift store. I could always find the best clothing there, and it was always something no one was ever expected to wear in this town. It was a little gothic boutique on South Street in Philadelphia, and most people shied away from the black exterior with the shrunken heads in the window.
I quickly grabbed my black combat boots and ripped black hose and slipped those on as well, then walked over to my black wire vanity table. I popped in my clear contacts, and I applied my usual of smoky black eye shadow and black lipstick. I ran over and shut the balcony doors after checking on my plants growing out there. I then left my room, shutting and locking the door behind me, the short gold key around my neck on a long silver chain.
I ran down the steps and landings to the entryway, then turned left cut throughout the dining room and into the kitchen. The analog clock that was shaped like a rooster on the wall above the pantry read 7:15, so I decided I had enough time to grab something quick.
"Catherine," my mom chided as I opened the fridge next to where she was making pancakes and grabbed out a cold slice of tomato pie and an energy drink. "Can't you just wake up a little bit earlier so you can eat a normal breakfast?"
"Nope," I managed to get out around the pizza in my clenched teeth as I slung my black messenger bag over my head and grabbed my car keys, shoving the energy drink into the bag as I cut through the dining room again and towards the front door.
My mom was a pretty woman in her day, and had retained some of that beauty as she aged, although she now died her hair and wore glasses. She was over fifty, but was still in pretty good shape, if a little pudgy around the middle. She had divorced my dad when I was little, but I still saw him sometimes. She was really sweet when she wanted to be, but at other times we wanted to kill each other. No matter what, though, I loved her.
"Have a good first day!" she called from the doorway to the kitchen, and I took the pizza out of my mouth and smiled back at her before running out the door and around the house to the driveway.
I jumped into my old black Mercedes-Benz convertible, a gift from my autophile father on my 16th birthday, and started the engine, quickly devouring my pizza while it warmed up. I checked the clock once again, seeing 7:30 this time, so I took a quick sip of my energy drink and backed out of the driveway.
After driving halfway down the street, I realized that I had forgotten my drawing book. That may be no big deal for some of you. But you see, that notebook is my life. Every drawing of Royahn I've ever done is in there, and he is to me what your biggest idol is to you, even though he's in my head.
I did a U-turn and drove back to the house, leaving the car on as I ran inside.
"Catherine! What are you - ?"
"Don't worry about it! I'll be there on time!" I shouted as I took the steps two-at-a-time up to my room. I unlocked the door and ran to the drawing desk next to the master bathroom, grabbing my drawing pad and spinning right back around. I left the room, locked it, then catapulted myself back down the stairs and out the door, already late for my first day of my senior year.