Behind Your Angel Eyes

The Beginning

My steps were sluggish as it got nearer to sunrise, the dirt and gravel scraping against my feet became a more prominent sound as I got gradually weaker with each passing minute. I had to find a lift soon, if I didn't I'd be sleeping out in the wilderness for the day, which would burn my eyelids and leave me with the mother of all headaches, so that wasn't happening.

The road was almost as dry as my throat; the ever-present itch had turned into a full-scale burn as I had run out of water earlier. The outskirts of California had been quiet so I was walking more than I normally would have.

My eyelids drooped with fatigue and my back slumped slightly, it would only be a matter of time before I passed out in the dirt. I slapped my cheeks lightly to keep myself awake, glaring at the faint lilac glow on the horizon signalling the sun would soon be rearing its ugly head.

There was a time when I loved the sun, I'd tilt my face up and bask in the warmth, enjoy the orange-red colour of my eyelids as the light shone through them. I'd go up to the roof of our apartment building with a towel and a book and laze in the sun, my dad said when I came down in the evening you'd think I had been to the Caribbean and back before bedtime.

Eventually about a quarter of a mile down whatever road I had been stumbling down, my knees finally gave out and I settled myself in the dust and dirt on the side of the road. I leant my elbows on my knees and supported my chin with my hands, swaying gently from side to side to keep myself moving. I peeked out from under my brown hair to see the horizon getting significantly lighter. I knew there would be a town just a few miles down the road, but the possibility of me crawling there before the sun came up was unlikely. I was just so tired! Walking all night was enough to make anyone drowsy, I had a few extra worries weighing me down and beckoning me to sleep, if only for a little while.

I started humming the intro to a song and started to mumble the words. I forced my voice to grow stronger as the effort to sing a favourite song seemed to be all I could conjure up, but it would keep me awake and there was no one around to tell me to shut up, so why not?

"On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair. Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air. Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light. My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim, I had to stop for the night." I sang softly, the swaying coupled with the music seemed to do the trick and I was able to keep my eyes squinted.

The sound in the distance to my right had me glance to see headlights making their way down the road. I puffed out a sigh of relief and stumbled to my feet, making my way slowly back down the way I came, I hoped they would stop. I stretched my hand out with my thumb out to beg for a ride, and I would have ran to the car as it slowed had a not been so exhausted.

"Where you goin', lil' lady?" The man in the driver's seat asked, he had a trucker's cap on and his smile seemed pleasant enough in the dim light. I looked to see a woman sitting beside him, her hair in a bun with some fly-away strays falling over her face.

"Just to the next town, anywhere near a motel would do great." I told him, I needed to get somewhere to lie down and fast.

"Hop in." The lady in the passenger seat suggested happily and I smiled as I climbed into the back. I hugged my large shoulder bag to my chest and felt my jacket pocket for the knife I always carried. They may look like the kind of far-off relatives some family like the Brady Bunch had, but I knew from the past never to trust anyone when you're in a vulnerable position. I did not want to spill blood, but if it came down to it, I needed some way to defend myself.

The couple drove me the few miles down the road to a motel, chattering about their trip to California they took every year. They stayed in some place they went for on their honeymoon; it was a tradition every year. I had told them I was visiting my mother but wanted to stop and rest, they had offered to drive me to her house on their way but I politely declined again and again. My mother had died when I was young and I had never been in California before now. I had also told them my name was Emily Weston, but that was a lie. Every time I accepted a lift off someone I'd come up with a new name and a story as to where I was going. At first I did it because I was paranoid, but now I just did it because it was fun, the most fun I've had these past few months anyway.

They dropped me off at a motel, "The Motel California" to be exact; I smiled at the reference to a song I had been singing only a short while earlier before I went inside to book a room.

"How long you need it for?" The manager asked in the universal tone of boredom that every motel manager seemed to adopt when they took the position.

"I'll be leaving tomorrow night." I told him, he handed me the key and I paid with whatever crumpled bills I managed to dig out from the worn leather wallet I carried on me. I had a box at the bottom of my bag with a wad of money, but I never flashed it out in front of people, I didn't know who might decide to sneak in and steal whatever precious money I had scrambled up working at the restaurant these past few years.

I made my way down the walkway that leads down past all the room, searching for mine. The song had started up again in my head and I started singing it once again, quieter in case I passed rooms with people still sleeping.

"Welcome to the Hotel California! Such a lovely place, such a lovely place. Such a lovely face. Plenty of room at the Hotel California, any time of year, any time of year. You can find it here." The last note died off as I opened the door to the room and an audible sigh escaped me at the sight of a double bed. I threw my bag on the floor and grabbed the chair by the window to wedge it under the door handle, to keep people out but to more importantly keep me in.

I flung myself down on the bed and as soon as my face made contact with the comfortable- albeit lumpy- mattress I was out like a light just as the sun peeked over the horizon.

Then the dreams started.

The wind tousled my hair and blew a few strands over my face; I quickly brushed them away so as not to miss the sight in front of me. The sun was setting over the horizon, I watched the faint lines of darkness spread themselves through the lilac clouds at an alarming rate; it only took a few minutes until the world was plunged into the darkness of night.

I breathed in the smell of salt coming off the waves in front of me and worked my fingers over the grooves of the wooden railing I was pressed up against, my skin prickled with goose bumps as the air suddenly got colder.

I felt the presence of someone behind me, a stirring of hairs on the back of my neck told me that I was being watched. Indeed when I turned there was a figure about twenty feet away, their silhouette was the only thing I could see, but I knew who it was. It was him.

A nervous excitement that built any time he was near sized my stomach and heart; I blushed and went back to staring out at the dark waves. Just as I expected a few seconds later hands found their way to my waist, their usual spot between the bottom of my ribcage and my hips felt like it had been made to fit their hands. I felt the side of his face graze against mine and his lips kiss my hair, and I closed my eyes in contentment.

I felt something sharp graze the skin of my temple and turned in alarm, only to feel a scream in my throat at what I saw.

His fangs glinted in the moonlight as he grinned down at me, the orange-yellow of his eyes practically glowed with sadistic amusement at my terror. I tried to call for help but his hand clamped over my mouth and nose, I scratched my nails down it but almost all of it was clad in his ever-present fingerless leather gloves.
There wasn't even anyone around to help, or care, as his laugh filled my ear before his mouth went to my throat, the fangs ripping into flesh.

I flipped over so fast had it been a single bed I'd have landed in a heap on the floor, I searched the room in a panic but I was the only one here. As the shock wore off my exhaustion returned and my eyelids drooped again almost instantly, I didn't even have time to react to the dream before sleep caught me again.

A few hours later I woke up and turned my head to see the clock on the bedside table tell me it was into the evening, almost nine at night. The sun was beginning to set and bit by bit my strength would return, well, most of it. I allowed myself five more minutes of lying with my eyes closed, the dark blinds kept any light from shining in my eyes so they weren't sore, just dry. My throat was parched, I reluctantly dragged myself off the bed and went to the bathroom to turn on the faucet and dip my head under it to drink what felt like a river of water, I drank till my insides felt like they were going to burst through the skin of my stomach.

I shut the water off and brushed the hair that had gotten soaked behind my ear; I planned to wash it in a few minutes anyway. The brown waves reached only to my shoulders, the mousy colour I loathed with a passion, and I wanted my long blonde hair back. It would have spilled over the side of the sink, a curtain of blonde waves with every shade of blonde rippling through it. People at school used to claim I got highlights or would deliberately add the colours in, but it had a mind of its own.

In winter it turned a dark blonde colour, like a dull gold. In summer the sun brought out all different shades of lighter blonde through it. Unfortunately I had been forced to chop it off and dye it to hide myself better.

I ripped my clothes over my head until I was just in my underwear and went out to get my bag which had the essentials for keeping myself clean. I turned the shower on and waited until the water was at the right temperature, tepid water was always good for relaxing your muscles without leaving you smothered in the steam. I looked up to see the air conditioning whirr to life and decided to get my small battery-operated radio from my bag to listen to music whilst I showered.

It was small and compact, easy to take around with me. I left it on the side of the sink and turned the volume up so the presenter could be heard over the sounds of the shower. I stepped in under the water and let it wash over my skin; I worked the muscles of the arm that had been supporting my bag all night round in circles under the water till the bones no longer ached.

I ran my hair under the water and scrubbed the shampoo through it, if I was thankful for one thing about the change of style is that it did not need nearly enough shampoo anymore. After I rinsed my hair out and washed my body, I stood under the water and listened to the song that had just started on the radio.