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.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
By the time Hazel got home, she was a mess. She stood on the front step for a second, trying to collect herself. She noticed something; a white envelope sticking out of the mailbox. Picking it up, she wandered into the empty house, flipping it over in her hands a few times, looking for postage or even an address. Nothing. Too upset to think about what she was doing, she tore the envelope open.
My dearest Hazel,
Meet me at the graveyard at three today. I'll be waiting.
Kisses,
Val
"No," Hazel muttered.
Furious, she balled up the letter, then threw it out. She stood over the trash can, breathing heavily, shoulders hunched, chest heaving. A sudden wave of dizziness washed over her, causing her to sink to the floor. She ran her hands through the her roots of her hair, feeling her heartbeat throbbing in her ears. Her head fell between her knees.
She knew, as she sat there on the floor, that simply throwing away a piece of paper wasn't going to make a difference. If she really, truly wanted Valerie out of her life, something had to be done.
Hazel got up off the floor, dusting herself off. She knew what she needed to do.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
Hazel stood at the cemetery gates. She took a deep breath, which was really more of a sigh, then went in.
As she walked, the wind blew furiously against her back, pushing her along. Rotting leaves crumbled beneath her shoes with each fragile step she took. The bare, scraggly tree branches dipped down, forming a finger-like canopy over her head. She glanced around at all the decaying, ivy-clustered gravestones. Shuddering, she tightly grasped her pocket knife. Her father had given it to her a few years ago, to protect herself. She never thought she might actually need it.
She kept walking, jumping out of her skin any time a twig snapped, or a squirrel skittered up a tree. After a while, the gravel path narrowed. The woods thickened. The cemetery went on for at least another mile. Valerie could be anywhere.
"Glad you could make it."
Hazel frantically whipped around, holding out her knife.
Valerie sat comfortably on a park bench. She wore a thick fur coat over a red satin dress. Her curly hair had been pulled into a loose, messy updo.
"You look nice," She said, her gaze drifting steadily downwards. Hazel felt the sudden need to cover herself up. "Very put-together. I hope you didn't get all dressed up just for little old me."
"You...had something to do with that dream. Didn't you." Hazel said, a slight tremor in her voice.
Valerie's eyes widened, flickering in amusement. "Maybe," she said.
"S-So, it's true, then," Hazel sputtered, tightening her grip on the knife, refusing to put it down, "You're a..."
Valerie approached Hazel. She took the girl's shaky hands, gently lowering them with the knife. Then she opened her mouth, revealing a set of shiny white fangs Hazel hadn't noticed until now. She tried to back away, but Valerie had a firm grip on the girl's wrists.
"Don't run away," she pleaded, "Hazel, please don't run away. You don't have to be afraid of me. You know I would never hurt you."
Hazel just stood there.
"I—I wasn't trying to kill him," Valerie explained, tears gathering in her eyes, "I just wanted him to leave me alone. That night, after you disappeared, I left the dance early. He followed me outside, grabbing me, trying to talk to me. Hazel, I was so angry. You have to understand, it's different when you're...like me. We have...instincts you humans don't. I never meant for any of this to happen. Hazel, I'm so sorry."
By now, Valerie was sobbing, pressing the back of Hazel's hand to her soft, tear-soaked cheek. Hazel guided the distraught girl over to the bench, sitting her down. That way, she could have a breakdown at least somewhat comfortably.
Not knowing what else to do, Hazel sat down beside her. Valerie tightly grasped the girl's hand, choking back sobs. Hazel's thoughts began to swirl. She didn't know what to feel.
"I'm sorry," Valerie sniffled, lifting her head slightly. She seemed to have calmed down a little. Her tears had dried. "I care about you, Hazel. You know that, right?"
"I know. I...I care about you, too."
At this, Valerie's demeanor seemed to shift. She moved in, her grip on Hazel's hand softening. She brushed the girl's blonde hair out of her face, rubbing her thumb against the bump of bone on Hazel's wrist, exhaling softly against her cheek. "So kiss me," she whispered, her silky voice sending a ripple down Hazel's spine.
"I shouldn't," she murmured. But her lips had already begun to part. Hazel backed away, realizing quickly what she was doing. "I really shouldn't," she repeated, standing up, "I shouldn't even be here. This was a mistake. I...I'm sorry."
This time, Valerie didn't try to stop her. She let Hazel go, watching her stumble down the thin gravel path with a look of forlornness on her face.
On the walk home, Hazel began to cry again, not because Valerie was a vampire, nor because she'd killed Cooper, but because she was, without a doubt, in love with her.
