Bad Habits [A tale of becoming vampire]*

My first story starter on wattpad,

;) oh joy.

I'm stoked, and am looking forward to becoming a better writer through this process. I love getting feedback and constructive criticism, so don't be afraid to tell me exactly what you think. I like the idea of extending the boundaries of the reader and writers relationship because your input is invaluable.

Extending thanks in advance for your patience, and taking the time to read. :)

comment and vote please!

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It was August in New Orleans, and the night was sweltering - the heat nearly tangible, it clung heavy and even in the atmosphere that smothered the city. Even the most respectable homes in the garden district had flung open their windows to escape the stifling warmth within.

I settled my heel on the curb as I hoisted my luggage from the backseat of the cab.

I could see in my periphial vision, the driver leaning out the passenger side window with an expectant air. It was clear he was waiting to be paid.

My pockets were empty, and I had known this when I ducked into the backseat on the way out of the airport.

I was beyond broke.

When my mind had fully processed this ... three things happened in quick succession;

I threw him an awkward glance, he caught it and swore as he threw the taxi into reverse, and I ran like hell.

One word of advice; don't try this manuever with a suitcase.

Hi, my name is Riane Marie Fox,

and I'm ... a seventeen year old mess.

I suppose this is the part where you greet me back with a sea of unenthusiastic nods and and hellos.

I know, I know, we're all supposed to be taking steps to recovery. I'd just like to point out, that I have already been to rehab for my transgressions, but they have yet to change.

My therapist calls me a hopeless case, among other less pleasant things.

You know what they say, old habits die hard.

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The pavement beneath my feet was nothing, I left it behind with ease as my legs extended to cover more ground. I had been on the run before - it was a practiced art that required stamina, blind determination, and ruthless skill.

I fought the sudden impulse to look over my shoulder, tried to tell myself that the man behind me in the cab wouldn't just run me down.

Who would commit a felony assault over cabfare?

Then again, he had looked pretty pissed...

I shook these thoughts as I hurled myself [ and all my dearest possessions ] over the nearest fence, swearing when the wrought iron skinned my left thigh and drew blood. It pooled at the edges of the gash, stinging as it met the humid air.

I took a detour into the nearest alleyway, the bottoms of my converse continuing to pound the tar until I could no longer hear the hum of an engine, or the strings of curses that had been flying out of the taxi at a constant rate.

All was quiet now, aside from my steady, shallow breaths.

It felt wrong.

The silence seemed to seep into me, allowing my mind to wander.

It was then that I realized my truest mistake, letting the night fall around me, engulf me, and swallow me whole.

A few staggering steps backward, and my shoulders had collided with what could only be brick.

'Real fuckin' genius Riane.'

My conscience was getting cocky, and it could afford to, because it wasn't in my position.

'Inhale. Exhale. In- ...' an impossibly icy chill ebbed down my spine, reaching out, and down until my body became rooted to the pavement, or so it felt.

I couldn't move, I wouldn't breathe.

My instincts said that in some strange way, I had become prey; the prey of something much more predatory and savage than myself.

Something that I could never hope to fight. I knew this.

Closing my sea-glass green eyes, which were now almost useless to me as the night prevailed, I allowed my other senses to focus themselves.

My ears caught the faintest of footsteps, I retreated to the far side of the narrow alleyway, my own feet taking timid steps in the opposite direction.

The footsteps followed, but I kept my eyes lightly shut.

There was a ragged inhale and when I realized that it wasn't my own, I admit - I panicked.

My arms jutted forward in a spasm of fear and retaliation, frantically searching in the dark for something that I could not see, even if I were to open my eyes.

To my surprise, my outstretched hands met with .. skin?

My confusion was overshadowed by my awe.

I thought that I had gone far enough, left no traces of my existence for four days, since - well since the death.

My eyelids fluttered open, trying to readjust with the veil of moonlight that shrouded the alley.

I let the tips of my fingers of my left hand trace the outline of the most beautiful face I had ever beheld, because he had seized the wrist of my right, and was holding it so tightly that I thought

- something beneath my skin had already shattered.

I felt like a child, so frail and so undone, standing before this man. All I could manage to do was struggle beneath his grip, spit at his feet. Even as his fingers intertwined with mine and began to twist my arm, contorting the two of us until he stood behind me, poised over the curve of my shoulder.

His jawline caressed the nape of my neck as he breathed in, shakily drawing in my scent. My teeth clenched, my head lifted a fraction of an inch, and I whispered, "Go to hell."

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Let me explain.

I've been running, from the man who is so elegantly positioned in the alley at this moment. The chase began in North Carolina, where my brother, Nico and I witnessed the death of one of his closest friends.