Dear Journal,
He moved in. He moved to America. And if that wasn't hard enough. He moved close to me. I could practically smell him. I told him I'd stop by his house later. I don't know if that would be such a good idea, considering, I love him. And that his blood smelled so intoxicating I don't know if I would be able to hold back. I don't want to hurt him. I don't want to take his life away from him. I want him to have a happy normal life. But, I also want to dig my fangs into his neck. I want to feel the life draining out of him. I want to live with him forever.
My phone rang from my bedside table. I looked at the screen. It was Jack. I didn't answer. With the thoughts that were running through my head, I didn't trust myself to hear his voice and not instantly find him, and attack him. I cared for a human more than I should. I tucked my journal away in its hiding spot and stood up. I sighed and picked up my phone. I redialed Jack's number.
"Hey Jack. Sorry, I was still in the bathroom. What's up?"
"Yeah, I told you that I moved in a few blocks down but I never told you my actual address, you know so you could swing by."
"Oh yeah, about that. I don't feel so well. I don't want to get you sick. But I promise I'll swing by when I do okay?"
"Really? You looked fine earlier. I mean, it's fine. Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Jack its just congestion and a headache. I took a shower to try and get rid of it. I'll probably run to the store and get some medicine to try and get rid of it over night."
"I hope you feel better soon Mark. I'm gonna let you get some rest. Bye Mark."
"Buh bye Jack."
I hung up. I fell back on my bed and sighed. Great. Now I was 'Sick'. I'm an idiot.
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Bite Me!!! Septiplier.
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