I stared at the body that lay in front of me. It was lifeless, limp, cold. Blood lay everywhere; it covered my hands, my clothes. I looked up into the mirror and for a moment thought I was the lifeless heap. I was covered in blood, it draped like a cloak over my body. Perhaps this was my true form… a killer?

He finally moved. Behind me, the one who brought me to this. He placed his hands on my shoulders. I rose and he turned me to face him, but I wouldn't look at him, I couldn't. He gently touched my chin and lifted my head; my eyes instinctively looked into his. His beautiful turquoise eyes, steady and sure of themselves, but dangerous, captivating, with an infections stare that you lost yourself in. the vision clouded and tears streamed down my face, taking blood with them.

'How ironic,' he thought, wiping away my tears. 'Your tears are like pure pearls of water washing away evidence of the deed.'

He drew my head close. I closed my eyes. His blazing hot lips caressed my own. Clothes torn, we were completely consumed by a passion that few have experienced. The blood was washed from my flesh. When he realized I was clean he worked his way to my neck. I felt the cat tongue numb my skin, injecting its venom into my pores. The twin incisors gently touched my skin, and then halted.

Go on. I thought.

Gently, but forcefully, the fangs pierced my skin. As he drank I could feel his body growing warmer, like a stove. He lifted his lips from my neck; I opened my eyes, staring into his now yellow eyes with their diamond pupils.

How was it?

'Like fine wine, my love.'


"Hey, Cale, wait up!"

I stopped and turned. It was Mercy, my best friend.

"Yo." I said simply. She stopped and caught her breath.

"Hey! So I heard you got accepted to college!"

"Yeah."

"Awesome! Where are you going again?"

"Harvard."

"Ah, that's right!" she said snapping her fingers.

Mercy was a petite girl, red hair, misty green eyes, small frame, and not to mention the light skin that all the boys seem to go for. Not that I was jealous, she never liked being popular with the opposite sex and neither did I, which was good for me since I was taller, tan, brunette, with hazel eyes. However, I was unfortunate for her, because her innocence and humility made her that made her that much more attractive. Me on the other hand, I was more monotone. I didn't look for attention and I certainly didn't try to attract it. I was the type of person to put up a wall that only true friends were willing to climb over. However, there were always those people (mainly boys) who didn't notice the wall and tried to force me to open up. Everyone said I was too intimidating, that I needed to lighten up, but I was fine with being scary. It let me read people, but keep them from reading me. I was good at reading people; I always denied it though, especially when a guy liked me. It just made things easier because they were usually too intimidated to say anything, so I would pretend not to notice.