I stood in that dead-empty (no pun intended) feild, surrounded by soggy, dark slosh that was obviously meant to be some sort of feild but in actual fact looked more like a mud ring surrounded by that odd smell infesting my nostrils. It was this weird rotting plant smell, carried towards me by the harsh breeze against my tender skin. My annoyingly long, frustratingly plain dark brown hair was suddenly whipping furiously against my face, momentarily blinding me.
I hate fucking british weather!
why couldnt I be lying on the beach? The one outside our villa...where I had spend so many evenings watching the blue water crash against the golden sands, strumming soft melodies on my beat-up guitar, casually enjoying the moment, the peacefulness, the heat. Oh yeah, I can't because I burn instantly in heats over 42.86 degrees celsius. I can't because my family think im dead -which technically I am- oh and because I couldnt escape there even if I really desperatly tried; this crappy place was my prison.
well, school does count as a sort of prison right?
Suddenly returning my thoughts back to the treck ahead of me as my eyesight was cleared I remembered the grey hairband stuffed into my grey school blazer as a just-in-case, those things can be leathal. reaching into the shallow pocket I noticed the peice of paper that I had stuffed in there earlier was still there, still covered in the instructions I was currently following.
The sycamore. Meet her at the sycamore. I was finally going to get a chance to meet my mother, or at least my biological mother. My real mother was still on that beautiful island, still drinking her iced tea and making the most wonderful pasta dishes. Not that it mattered what I thought of her famous Carbonara, I cant taste it any more. Isn't it odd how just little words can change so much? I dunno about most people but 'It's over' certainly changed my future, quite rapidly in fact like uuuh, I dont know, dying? though obviously I didnt just die, no im still alive...and im dead. Im like some post-apocaliptic creature which may seem cool to some nerds out there but dont be deceived you dumb-ass neek because it sucks. Litterally . That was one of the first things I found was odd.
Other then the fact I survived a fatal car accident (or fatal for me at least) and had a scar to mark where I was shot . Yeah, did I mention that? I was freaking shot too, by my boyfriend and all, well ex-boyfriend. what a prick he was. Remind me to never date a suicidal, amazingly hot guy who just so happens to own a gun. Oh and remind me to never dump one either. He may have been absolutely smoking but he was way too clingy for my liking, and maybe a tad too sycotic too...maybe thats just how I like them.
*
I sillently willed myself to continue on in my mini treck and forget the past, I've had my revenge. And it was worth it. Now, some may be thinking (those stupid-ass neeks again) Wow, shes a vampire she should totally find getting across a feild easy! Oh, how wrong you are. See being a vampire just isnt that simple. What increased hearing when its litterally like someone has just turned up the volume on everything, meaning that right now all I can hear is that awful wind hitting me sideways as it almost knocks me to the ground, The grass crunching beneath my black converses, the aglet from my black converses hitting its tongue everytime I moved my feet forward, urging them ahead.
I hate this, in case you couldn't tell. I hate the constant burn for blood. I hate that I can't walk down a high street without practically drooling at all those beating hearts, the thirst grasping to take hold as my mind fights desperately to keep charge. I guess you could call it a sort of sillent battle...like, have you ever seen those little angel/devil concience things that are always there in the cartoons? I guess for me its sort of the same only more human/vampire. Not that im human any more. No, thanks to the fucking family trait. Some families have alzeimers, we have vampiracy! I think I'd much rather be in a freaking wheelchair, not like thats gonna happen anyways. I heal almost instantly, or at least I think I do. I haven't exactly tried harming myself, I may be on a bit of a self-hate parade at the moment but I don't think suicide is gonna do me any favours (not that it hasn't crossed my mind maybe five, six, twenty eight times?).
