Bonnie Mae Carlton never wanted to love again. She had put her heart in someone else's hands and got it broken many times. She didn't want to love again. She wasn't sure she could love when she was a monster. She was terrified to love again until sh...
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New York, 1927.
Bonnie had been living as a monster for five years now. New York became her new home. She had no one, not true, she still had her family back in Chicago but she didn't want to hurt them, and right now almost every time she was near a person they ended up dying. It was a vicious cicle of blood and death and she couldn't escape it. Her life was now that cicle, she had to live it.
Most of her days she spent them hiding in whatever room she had rented, there was nothing she could do about it, but her nights. Almost every single one of her nights she spent them walking the streets of whatever part of New York she was in. She would drink someone's blood until there was not even a drop left and steal their money, sometimes their clothes too, with that money she would give herself a chance at the life she now lead.
She would rent different rooms around the city, never staying in the same place more than three weeks. She would buy herself nice clothes if the money was enough for it. Some nights, when she wasn't feeling too hungry she would try and go to different underground clubs to enjoy the life and sing, she never stayed more than one hour. The craving for blood was always too much.
She hated the new life that was forced upon her. She hated whatever being that forced this life upon her. She didn't like killing people but she enjoy it too much to stop. The feeling of human blood on her lips as it went through her throat and down to her stomach was the greatest thing she had ever felt. Nothing could compare to the feeling of human blood in her system.
Bonnie was an hypocrite, she knew that too well and she hated herself for it. She hated killing people but loved what it brought to her when she did it. More times than not she even questioned herself if it was necessary to care about the people she killed because at the end of the day if she didn't kill them something else would. It was all excuses, she knew that too, but she needed the blood, she wanted the blood.
A glimpse of hope came to her one night as she drowned in blood. As most nights she stepped out her room with a clear notion of what she wanted: blood. She walked the streets of New York as if she owned them, her heels making noise against the pavement when she walked, her head held up high and a sly smirk on her face. She truly enjoyed her nights.
As she walked the streets she saw something she might enjoy doing. A show girl walking to work, she supposed. The girl was walking just a few steps ahead of her, Bonnie caught up to the girl and slightly bumped into her.
"Sorry," bonnie said, "I didn't see where I was going," she smiled.
"Don't worry," the girl said with a smile, "I'm late too," bonnie nodded.
