A/N: Thanks for clicking on my story1 I hope you enjoy, as this is my first post on FictionPress. I was writing this as a portfolio piece to send in for an art school, and I just thought I'd share with you wonderful children! Anywho, hope you like it!

The day I turned, it was raining. The skies were dark and ominous, giving me a foreboding feeling as I trudged through the nighttime streets of New York. The streets were littered with old newspapers, used napkins, and chewed gum. Bodies of all shapes and sizes bustled about, eager to escape the incessant pounding of the rain. I jumped as lightning flashed, the thunder making the ground shake with its strength. I pulled my coat tighter around me, trying to block out the cold, but to no avail. The harsh wind ripped through the thin cloth, making goosebumps rise on my skin. I shivered, but kept walking.

As I continued, the throng of people began to thin, allowing for more personal space. With my free hand, I held my bag over my head, though it wasn't doing much to deter the constant flow of moisture. I suddenly felt unsafe. Looking around anxiously, I spotted a small group of male teenagers. They were eyeing me creepily, so I kept my eyes forward. They looked to be about my age; sixteen. Not the type I hung around, though. I wasn't their type, I knew. They liked the girls with short skirts, blonde hair, and layers of caked on makeup. That, I was not.

Me? I was plain and simple in my own eyes. Skinny jeans, Converse, band t-shirt and black eyeliner. I wasn't blonde, either. My long, ink black hair was a stark contrast to the shimmery, wispy strands of gold that came from other girls' heads. My hair also hung in my face, unlike the elegant up-dos of the girls that surrounded me. The tips of my hair, dyed blue, made me stand out even more.

My steps faltered as I heard footsteps behind me. I was overly paranoid by then and quickened my pace, trying not to stumble clumsily over my own feet. The footsteps quickened with me, and my heart began to pound. I looked over my shoulder, trying to see my pursuers through the darkness. I couldn't see anything, but the pounding of feet never wavered. Looking forward again, I tried to find an escape. I didn't know what they wanted, but I knew it had something to do with me.

Up ahead, there was a darker shadow among the shadows. An alley. My heart lifted at my luck, and as I approached the opening, I ducked in quickly. I dashed farther into the alley, keeping my eyes behind me, looking for whoever it was. As I thought, I didn't really want to know. I faced forward again, and stopped dead in my tracks. The alley wasn't an escape, rather, it was my imminent doom.

In front of me stood a solid brick wall, lined with trashcans and garbage. A whimper of fear escaped my lips, and I dropped to my knees. I was scared beyond belief. Scared for myself, which was such a waste. What gave me the right? I wasn't an angel, and I'd done some pretty bad stuff in my life. I even went to a school for delinquents. But still, I was scared. I'd beaten people up before, and been beaten up myself, but there was something about these circumstances that screamed run.

"Hey, you!" a voice behind me yelled. My head whipped around, and I stared wide-eyed at them. It was a teenage boy. I recognized him from the group of teenagers. He and several of his lackeys who were standing around him, glared at me. Some of them flashed sadistic grins, but the majority scowled.

I stood on shaky legs, but hopefully didn't let my fear show. Instead, I tried for a glare of my own. Evidently it worked, as some of their glares wavered.

"What do you want?" I demanded. I honestly had no idea. The leader, as I decided to call him, took a step forward with a grin.

"That's a pretty nice bag you got there," he responded. "Mind if I take a look at it?" I bit the inside of my cheek. The fear was gone, replaced with anger.

"Really? Why don't you go jack some other girl's bag?" I snapped. "My bag's old, and I'd prefer not to part with it." The boy's eyes grew cold, and a shiver went up my spine.

"I don't appreciate your tone," he said, his voice low. Dangerously so.

"And I don't appreciate your face," I remarked, "But we all have to live with disappointments now and then." The boy's eyes widened in astonishment at my words, then he growled. Without a word, he flicked his head toward me, and his lackeys stepped forward. They spoke to each other energetically as they approached me.

I cursed under my breath, and looked for an opening to escape. Anywhere would do; under the legs, between two of them, an easy punch to the face or kick in the groin to delay their progress, but there was nothing. They had their arms poised to strike, so I readied myself as well. I slung my bag—the one they wanted so badly they were willing to attack me—onto the ground, and got into a comfortable stance.

When the first one lunged, I was ready, and I landed a swift punch to his gut. He went down with a grunt and clutched his stomach. I smirked at my own success, but it was short-lived. A hard punch to my cheek knocked me to the ground. I stood quickly, and blocked a hail of punches and kicks, while landing a few of my own. The four-on-one odds hardly seemed fair. But life wasn't fair, and I'd been dealt my hand. This was it.

As I knocked out one guy, another was instantly there to take his place. I had already taken out two, so there were only two more. I hated this, and all I wanted to do was get out of this situation as quickly as possible. I let my focus slip for a fraction of a second to scan my surroundings, and I was hit by something.

As I'd been looking around, one of the men had taken the opportunity to strike. I was kicked in the chest, which sent me flying backward and into the line of trashcans at the back of the alley. My back hurt, and I groaned. I tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in my side halted my progress. I gasped aloud, and slapped a hand to where the pain originated. Something wet and gooey coated my hand, and I stared at it.

Thick, crimson liquid dripped from my fingertips onto the pavement. I was aware of the agonizing ache that was spreading through my torso as the red oozed from my body. I looked up to find the leader of the group looming over me. His face was twisted into a sinister smirk, and it reflected in his eyes. He raised a blood stained hand over his head. In it, he was holding the handle of a knife, and it glinted in the dull haze of the overcast sky. I stared in shock, knowing what was coming.

"No, please—!" I started desperately, but was cut off by the knife plunging deeply into my chest. I screamed in agony, throwing up my hands to shield myself. It did nothing to ward off the man, who continued to stab the weapon into my chest.

My vision started to fade, and I gradually put my hands down until they were laying limply at my sides. The pain had faded to a dull ache, and I laid there motionless. I heard faint, evil laughter far away, but it didn't matter. I was suddenly overcome with fatigue, and I let my eyes flutter shut.

What I remembered next was that I was being gently shaken awake. I pried my eyes open, wondering who it was. My eyes didn't want to open, but I forced them, squinting into the dimness. Hovering over me was a dark figure with glowing icicle blue eyes filled with concern. From the muscular build of the figure I assumed it was a man. I should have been worried, since I had just been attacked, but I didn't feel threatened by him. Instead, I felt the need to get close to him. But one question weighed on my mind: Why did his eyes hold concern for me?

His eyes felt like they were peering into my soul, like they were all-knowing. His mouth moved, and I assumed he was speaking to me, but I couldn't make out the words. No sound was making it to my ears. The man gave up, and I was scared for a moment that he would leave. Leave me alone here to die. I tried to move my arms, to stop him, but they wouldn't obey. I didn't have to beg, though, because I felt strong, gentle arms pick me up from the ground. I felt cold, and though I thought I would be warm in his arms, I only felt colder. Still, I wasn't afraid of him as I probably should have been.

As he started walking, I tried to keep my eyes open, but the wind made it difficult. In the time it took me to blink, I suddenly found myself inside of an old building. Through my blood-loss-induced stupor, it looked like it hadn't been inhabited in years, yet it looked clean. Even though it was dark, there was a sense of security here that made me calm. The man walked over to a couch with me in his arms, and gently laid me on it. Then, he got onto his knees and took my hand into his. They were cold as ice, much like my own, and his eyes seemed to make them even cooler. This time when he spoke, I could just barely make out the words.

"Can you hear me?" he asked. I tried to nod, but my muscles wouldn't work. He rested a hand on my shoulder. "Don't strain yourself, I know you can hear me." Then he said the words that made my world come crashing down.

"You're going to die," he stated bluntly. My heart felt as though it would shatter. I didn't want to die. It would mean leaving this wonderful person who saved me.

"I don't...want..." I choked out through the beginning of my tears.

"Shh..." he hushed. I did, and waited for him to speak. His voice was lovely; deep and attractive. "There is no doubt that you'll die today, but the way you die is up to you." I didn't understand. What was he talking about?

"I...don't understand," I rasped. Then he did something that I never saw coming: he flashed his fangs at me. There was no other way to explain his teeth but as fangs. I stared at him through the fog that clouded my vision. "Va...vamp..." I couldn't say it. It was just too preposterous. He just nodded his head, and retracted his fangs.

"My name is Luka Blackwood, and I trust you know what I mean when I say that the choice is yours," he said. In the movies, when the person reveals their true nature, the girl is supposed to freak out and scream, but I wasn't afraid. I couldn't explain this strange attraction to Luka, but I wanted to stay by his side.

"Will it..." I trailed off, not knowing how to voice my concerns.

"Hurt?" Luka finished for me. I just looked at him. "I won't lie to you, it will, but only for a little bit. I'll take that as your answer, so I'll ask you one more question, okay?" I didn't answer, just waited for him to continue. "Are you sure?"

In all honesty, I didn't think much about it. I would be dead, or rather, undead. Would I have to leave my family like they always had to in books? Not that my family would care either way since I was a good-for-nothing delinquent. A fresh start didn't sound bad either. Plus, I could spend my time with Luka. I couldn't tell you why I was so interested in him, but I was, and I would do anything to stay by his side. Finally, I took a deep breath and answered, sealing my fate.

"I'm sure." Luka nodded curtly, and took my face into his palms. I felt my heart speed up, and saw Luka smile.

"This is why I love humans," he mumbled. I didn't have time to really process what he said, because I felt a sharp pain in my neck. I gasped aloud, and tried to escape. It was excruciating, and my neck burned where his teeth sank into my skin. I felt my blood being drawn out, and the pain seemed to be worse than before. My breath was ragged. As suddenly as it started, it stopped. I looked into Luka's eyes, and they seemed to be glowing brighter than before. His mouth was stained red, making them stand out in contrast from his pale skin.

I saw him clearly now, as the clouds from the rain parted. The moonlight bathed him in a pale light, illuminating his perfectly chiseled features. Messy, black waves hung in his eyes, but couldn't hide the brightness of his irises. Sharp cheekbones protruded from his skin, and his angular jawline tied everything together. He was prettier than I was, I was sad to say, but I didn't mind.

As I took in the sight of him, he brought his wrist to his lips, and bit down hard. I heard a small pop as he broke through his skin, and saw him sucking in the blood that poured out. Blood dribbled out of the side of his mouth, dropping to the floor with a splash. He pulled his wrist away, and came closer to me, and before I knew it, his hand was on my cheek, and he was kissing me. I inhaled sharply, and as I did, warm liquid flooded into my mouth. I tried to pull away—it was just too gross—but Luka held me where I was. The liquid kept coming, and Luka wouldn't let me spit it out so I had no choice but to swallow. As I did, a burning sensation filled my stomach, engulfing me entirely. I didn't remember when he pulled away, but I remember he sat with me through the night as I changed, gripping my hand, and whispering sweet nothings as the burning intensified. The last thing I remembered before the bloody, crimson haze faded to black was a pair of strong arms embracing me.

My name is Alice Leiko. The day I turned, I fell in love at first sight. Since that day, my life has been hard. Living in the shadows, feeding off blood, meeting others of my kind. But it's all worth it because of my love, Luka Blackwood. He makes every day bearable. It's been twenty years since that night, and I haven't changed at all. Even so, it doesn't bother me. I've accepted my fate, and I don't think I could change it. Even if I wanted to.

"Alice!" Luka's voice sounded through our apartment. "We have to leave. The sun's just set, and it will take all night to get there."

"Coming!" I called. Looking down, I smiled at my diary, closing and setting the pen beside it. I grabbed my coat from the rack, and stepped up to Luka's side, gazing at him lovingly. He looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

"What?" he asked with a chuckle. I shrugged.

"I love you. That's all," I said. I placed a chaste kiss on his lips, and headed out the front door with Luka in tow.

The day I turned, my life changed forever.