A couple days have passed and, everything seems darker, even the weather. It's raining most of the time and the grey clouds are always blocking the sun. Every little feeling or emotion has been intensified.
I am almost turning eighteen and I feel sort of confuse and afraid because there is this rule that when you turn eighteen, you have to go to a blood bank, sign up and then the software system chooses a random vampire and you can become his blood slave, you can die by his hand or, in the best possibility, he can free you and protect you.
There's nothing I can do to change that.
Mrs. Dudley is taking care of us alone, and even with help of the older girls, like me, I can tell she's tired and worned out.
I have not been able to sleep properly, when I do fall asleep I have nightmares of waking up, seeing everybody dead and when I get in the kitchen, there's a vampire awaiting to torture me.
Everything seems so hazy. I wake more tired than when I went to sleep and I don't have the strength to get up.
Mrs. Robinson funeral is today and everybody is going to be there. It will take place next to the hoods in a small cemitery. Nobody really talks about the events of two days ago, it's like it never happened.
"Get ready, the funeral is almost beginning."
Oh.
I quietly began dressing myself with a black dress that gently hit just above my knee and a black hat.
Slowly, I walked towards the mirror and picked up my make up bag and start applying mascara and eyeliner.
I didn't want to over work it, after all, it was a funeral and not a fashion show. Besides, I would probably break down and cry.
I keep going back to the moment when Noah said he knew my name. He couldn't possibly know my name and, and the way the other paramedic acted, everything was so strange.
I am so confused.
" Thea." Mrs. Dudley called me softly from the other side of the door. "Are you ready?" she asked, tiredness in voice.
I am so exhausted.
"Yes." I told her, opening the door.
The funeral was being held in a small cemetery next to the woods, we just needed to have a three minute walk.
All of the time while I came down the stairs I kept reminiscing about the conversations me and Mrs.Robinson used to hold.
A week before she died, she told me about how her family was killed in front of her when she was about my age.
Mrs.Robinson was almost my grandma.
I could hear Mrs. Dudley sobbing and one girl trying to comfort her, but all I could feel was a hand full of nostalgia.
The worst thing about almost everything is that everything comes to an end. Life doesn't come with a rewind button, and nobody can offer you do-overs. You have to hold it all down and move on, or life continues without you anyway.
When we arrived, a couple minutes later, everything was quiet, everything but the priest. The priest was talking in Latin.
Sadness filled the air.
I think everybody was letting the fact of Mrs. Robinson being dead sink in their minds.
I was in the background, behind all of those people, just breathing in the air and trying to remain composed and calm when all I wanted to do was cry.
As the priest spoke and caught something in the corner of my eye, a swift, short movement.
