Sweet Serenity (ON HOLD SORRY GUYS)

Dreamers

So here is another chapter!! Sorry for the wait guys... :( I'll try to get another chapter up this week to make up for it :)

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Chapter 24

            I have confined to the house for a while. We all think it’s for the best, since it would be damaging for Will’s and Rheynold’s reputation if I let my new found cravings take over me. Bloodlust sucks. Excuse the pun. Even the maids are slightly afraid of me now; frightened I will use my new found power against them. I couldn’t really. They are my friends. I do have some form of restraint; just not a lot at times. Most of the time, I’m ‘supervised’ by Will or Rheynold, just to keep an eye on me. I felt like a child at first, but when it came to my first need for blood I understood why. I act like an animal sometimes. I guess it comes with the territory of being a demon. If I had met any vampire with as little self control as myself I would be scared. It’s like all logic and rationality disappears, and there is only one thing on your mind, blood. When you are weak, it rules over you completely. Apparently I’ll get used to it and develop control over time, not necessarily with age. I’d love to see that happen.

            This place feels like home now, so warm and welcoming. The feelings you experience when gliding your hand along a wall as you walk by. It may sound bizarre, but it’s almost if the walls absorbed the history of the house and emit it only to those who can interpret it. Feeling all the warm emotions makes me happy. It’s not just the walls of the house. If Will lies to me I can tell, just by engaging contact with him. The downside of this is that sometimes you see into the others mind a little too much. I must have had no privacy at all before I converted, since Will says I’m harder to understand now. Before, he would know exactly what was wrong and what caused it. Now we have to talk a lot in order to get it out, but I can’t lie either anyway. He knows as well. I trust him though. I have no need to lie. I love him, although he has been getting on my nerves recently with his babysitting attitude. I do get annoyed for a while, and he knows it, like when he sticks to me like glue, and when he lectures me about how to control my cravings, and how I should express my emotions if I need to. Duh, I know that already. How can I be mad at him for long when he puts in the effort to make it all better? He must have been through the same with Rheynold. I think he’s frightened that he will push me too much, that’s why he always feels the need to apologise. I can imagine Rheynold being ruthless about it though. There is something about a father/child bond, it can never be broken. I had this bond with my dad, as does Will with Rheynold. You can push the other away as much as you can but you always get closer again. With a relationship like mine and Will’s, they can be broken. But that’s not going to happen. I’ve been desperate to feel like part of a family for a long time now, and I have found my family right here. I don’t think I could leave now even if I wanted to. They saved my life. I owe them a lot, and I know that once I get settled he wants to ‘cash in his debt’ so to speak, if you get what I mean. Well he hasn’t said as much, but he didn’t have to.

            Although I love him dearly I do all I can at the moment to get away and enjoy some time by myself. There is only so much I can take of crowds, and of intimate contact. I was lonely in my past, but still I like my space as much as the next person. I find this area of the house particularly nice to be around, so I always hang around here whenever I can sneak away. It’s quite a distance away from the living quarters, the busiest part of the house, and it’s away from all the hustle and bustle of the maids. It is the last room on the end of the West Wing. I gather it used to be a room for entertaining and possibly social gatherings. I’m sure it’s been unused for quite some time, but I don’t see why. Grand chandeliers hang delicately from the tall ceiling, and dozens of chairs circle around large tables standing on a spring-loaded floor. At the far wall of the room stands a large stage, raised 2 meters above the ground. To the left of the stage leans a flight of stairs enabling access to the stage floor. There isn’t a backstage as such, just a door concealed by a curtain draping over the back wall. On the stage stands an old piano, untouched for a long time until I discovered it. Despite this, it appears somebody maintains it because when I first played the beautiful instrument, it wasn’t out of tune. I’ve spent a lot of time playing the piano whenever I can, every time I can break free. It’s daft really; coming here is such a habit Will knows exactly where I am, but that doesn’t matter to me.