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Marlene's POV:

Saturday. 10:50am. I think I'll go for a run once it's nice and bright. Vampires don't die in the sun or whatever, I assume that stereotype that came from vampires going out at night wearing black so that they could attack and eat... but that's what MOST murderers do. I've decided to be productive today after all this marinating in my own self pity, and the whole situation with Annysa made me feel a tad icky. I'm making an effort of myself today unlike the past week or so. When you're blessed with immortal youth, you've got to use it. I was turned when I was 17 by a famous vampire named Carmilla, I had just moved to Austria after my home region Transylvania became a part of the Austrian empire. This was 1805, making me... 235. Jesus Christ. Anyways, I moved to an Austrian state called Styria and heard rumours of another lesbian in the town which was mind you in my time, hard to find. We had a one night stand and I never saw her again. But the morning after was fucking weird.

I woke up with fangs stabbing into my gums, black hair that was once dark brown and the skin of a fresh corpse. I screamed and cried as if it would change my fate, but nothing could. I had nothing telling me how to navigate this new way of life except for the desperate dryness on my tongue, bloodlust. My vision was blurry and my head was throbbing, so I did the only thing I could do. I bit down hard into my arm and drank myself near dry. This was only changing from one range of shitty side effects to another, but I didn't mind. I just needed calm. Later, I gathered my strength and set out to find fresh blood. I'll admit that I didn't learn how to hypnotise until very late, so at the start all I did was kill. I couldn't have girls remembering I bit into their necks so they had to go. I still feel bad about this centuries later. But there's no room for 'feeling bad' when cursed with this cruel condition. You get used to it. Now however, I hypnotise girls into letting me take some of their blood and then make them forget it ever happened. Sometimes it hurts when I see those girls again and they don't recognise me, but that's obnoxious really, it's my fault. I hate petty sadness. I hate teen angst. I hate being forever 17.

I should start getting ready. Once you've been around this long, reminiscing becomes futile. It's best to just live in the moment, which is what I'll do. I'll go for a run and enjoy this beautiful world I've lived in for so long.

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