The Vampire King

Chapter 2

(Edited)

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My eyes snapped open, as the sunlight bled in through the cheap curtains above me blinding my sight, causing me to blink a few times to readjust to the sudden light. After a few seconds of laying disorientated and motionless on my bed, I reach onto my nightstand and grab the tattered journal and dying pen that have made their home there, right next to the analog clock saying it's 9:47 a.m. I quickly flip through the notebook to a blank page and began scribbling down the fading details of my dream. 'The Dream Book', as I lovingly called it, now holds another dream that I will soon forget with time.

For three years, I've been having dreams about this masculine figure with beautiful, yet terrifying piercing red eyes. For three years I have written down these dreams in 'The Dream Book', it's pages filling with the evidence that someone held my heart, even if they were a fragment of my imagination. Dreams about a lover that comes only from my mind. A man whose name I've never known, and yet I know better than I know myself. Sometimes he was talkative, and sometimes he remained silent. He was a good listener, great kisser, and a caring lover.

He has always been there to comfort me, a solid anchor to rely on in my times of need.

I know I sound a little bit crazy, mad even. Maybe I have gone mad. Mad to think that my only lover is a man from my dream. I doubt I could be held responsible if I had lost my once reputable sanity.

Since my parents disowned me three years ago, leaving me to fend against the world on my own, he was my only companion and my only family. Where thoughts of them once held the spark of anger and hints of sadness, now held calm acceptance. All because of him.

He's not real and I've gone mad.

He's not even real. Even if my dreams always felt so real to me. His kisses so definite that I could always taste his lips on mine in the morning when the proof of his non-existence is like a stinging slap to the face. His sweet vanilla taste. I had never liked vanilla before he invaded my dreams and embedded himself in my heart. His arms around me, even in my dreams made me feel safe, but his voice is the thing that attracts me the most. Soft and even, somehow showing compassion without having to change pitch.

My dreams were always my escape from this thing we call reality.

A world where I have no one left to care for me.

No friends, no relatives, no coworkers.

Nobody.

I could disappear and no one would notice. 

In my dreams, I have this man. This man, who chases my loneliness away. This man that cares about me, more than I care about myself.

But then again, it's only a dream. Nothing more. My subconscious made it up, a gateway out of the life that seemed less and less worth living with each passing day. This man appeared in all of my dreams. He's the shoulder I cry on, the friend I never had, the family I dream I had, and the lover I wish I could have.

But he's just a man from my dreams, that's all he is. Everything I wish I had, but don't.

***

After going to the bathroom and taking a shower in freezing water, I brush my teeth in the rusting kitchen sink. The one in the bathroom sprays brown-tinged water in all directions when I turn it on. My apartment is small, cramped, and dirty; in other words in complete disarray. It was only one I was able to acquire because it was the only one with a questionable enough landlord to take me in, a creepy old man who looked at my chest more than my eyes, and who I haven't seen since I moved in. The only window is the one in the bedroom and it faced a dingy alley two floors down. The only upside to this place are the stars, which I can see at night if I lay on my bed and look through the window at just the right angle over the stout building next to mine.

Other than that, every wall has peeling wallpaper, and mysterious stains litter the floors that I'd rather remain ignorant about. The only furniture is the used set that came with the apartment, and the entire place is completely bare and impersonal. It reminds me every day what I'd given up to have a life a freedom, however hard that life is.

I make my way back to my room to look through the few remaining clean outfits still hanging in my closet. I decide on a worn,dark, lacey pencil skirt, tan, loose blouse tucked ever so slightly into the skirt, and a pair of black ballet flats. It's an outfit that has become a uniform for me to wear on a day-to-day basis.

The uniform of a professional job-hunter.

I walk through the city in uncomfortable flats for hours, handing out my resume to any shopfront I pass, and checking in with companies who I haven't received calls from as to whether they are willing to hire me. The looks of pity and disgust I get have become routine these days, as even rundown diners and sleazy fast-food restaurants refuse to hire me, saying they already have enough employees.

Most shops in this part of the city avoid hiring people like me, the kind with the look of defeat shining in their eyes. The don't want people on the verge of becoming druggies involved with their establishments, I guess.

The sun is just kissing the horizon when I get home, my shoulders hunched and my feet sore and blistered.

I collapse onto my bed and I cry, another unfortunate part of my new daily routine.

Why does life have to be so difficult? Three years ago I had everything I needed, and yet nothing I wanted. A set plan for my future and a family that was going to support me full-heartedly into adulthood. But it wasn't my future, simply one that had been concocted for me. I was just a doll that had gone through life being told what its purpose was.

I've always been alone. Always felt unwanted, no one ever seeing me as anything but a pawn that they could manipulate. My wish is to have someone to love me, is that too much to ask for? Instead of getting someone real to care for me, I was given the perfect man in the form of a dream character.

Looking out the window above my bed, I saw a shooting star streak across the sky before disappearing into the clouds.

I made a wish. It sounded foolish, even to my own ears, but I did it anyway. At this point, I was desperate. I didn't want to be alone anymore, I wanted someone to share my happiness, sadness, and love with.

I closed my eyes and slowly whispered the only thing I've ever wanted.

"I wish for someone to love me and, to be there for me."

Little did I know that some wishes do come true.

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Editor's note: comment tu trouves ça?

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Here you go folks, second chapter. Please do remember to

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Editing done by sammibear000