Life went on living even when there was no one around to life it. People would die daily, people would be born daily, and in the end, none of that would truly matter. Once, she'd been a cop. That was when life had mattered to her. She saved lives on the daily, fought to keep things right, but lately all she could do was get through each day.
And who will I find tonight?
There was an emptiness inside her that couldn't be filled even on her third cup of gas station coffee with eight packs of sugars and two creamers. Jane Bruno was truly dead inside and out. If she hadn't been a vampire it wouldn't have bothered her.
I can't resist the kill. Not anymore. Jane succumbed to herself. She wouldn't refuse herself it anymore. I'll have to feed tonight.
Years had passed since it happened.
She lost all contact with family. Became another face on the 'missing' list. Died her hair white blonde, chopped it half off, and wore thick black eyeliner so no one would recognize her. She went out only when it was dark and hadn't drank in ages. Not since he died, anyways.
His name always left a bitter taste in her mouth and she drowned it in coffee, as though that could make anything better. Nothing would ever be enough no matter what she did. Nothing could make her forget. Nothing could make her want to remember.
"Jane Bruno," he'd say. His voice would be low and he'd lean up against something--always leaning, always a mystery.
In her mind, she'd answer back with a, "Eugene Macmillan."
And they'd be there. Friends. Potential lovers. Enemies. It didn't matter what they were, only that they were. The possibilites were endless as long as he was alive. When he was there, it could've been anything. Without him, it was only the what if's.
"What's on your mind?" He'd lean over the counter, a smile upon his lips and a gleam in his eye.
She'd shrug and he'd urge her on.
The memories were now tainted with the picture of his body. Dead. Lifeless. Forever gone. His mouth far from a smile and his skin pale, cold.
Jane Bruno used to be so much more than a shell of a human.
It's not losing someone that hurts--it's the questions that are never answered. What's left burning inside your mind. All the regret and all the self-inflected hatred. He's gone. I'll never have him again.
Jane sighed to herself, walking out of the twenty-four hour shop and pushing a strand of dead hair out of her face. Why am I still doing this? It won't ever change. It never does. She walked anyways, her feet tapping against the concrete, mind ablaze as she realized that the pain she'd felt earlier that week was back again, this time stronger. It came in waves, forcing itself upon her, willing her to quit living.
Why do I remember him? He's just a figure. A distant memory. A man who'll never be.
Jane wouldn't ever quit living. Not now.
"What's a bad girl like you doing in a good town like this?" a guy asked, leaned up against the wall and smoking. Eugene! She wanted to smile. To grin. But it wasn't him and it would never be. It was just another guy thinking himself the funniest and hottest thing around.
Jane Bruno never truly lived--not then, not now. She was just a creature of the night. A vampire.
"Oh," she sighed, taking a sip of her coffee, "looking for something easy and fun to do in a boring town like this."
He threw his cigarette down and stomped on it. "Well, if you've gone time, I'm free for the next hour."
"How much a boy like you cost?"
Laughter was the only way to respond to that, and laugh he did. She watched him, feeling the pain grow inside, stronger. It was a longing. It was a desire. It was the drive to drink, to kill, to take from what wasn't. It would take her and control her and despite her mental pleas against it she'd go, she'd kill, she'd take.
He followed her to the alley easily. All it took was a wink and the shrugging of her coat until he could see the one strap upon her shoulder. When you covered your body with a coat and wore tights, no one cared what you wore under it. And Jane didn't like shirts--no, what's the use of a shirt when you can walk around in just a bra without anyone knowing?
He's too easy.
Screams could bleed the night dry. They beat the night and took from it what they could. Everything went too easily, too quickly. Years before, Jane would've taken longer. But she'd learned to do it fast, to kill easily, not to think. She felt nothing inside.
The man wouldn't die--Jane's teeth sunk inside him and she knew. I need. It was a desire. A pain to end all pain. He's healthy. Young. Breathing.
He's next.
Her teeth sunk in deeper than before and she felt something she hadn't in ages. She released her fangs and pulled away, leaving the blood inside him. She wanted to continue, to drain him, to keep going until he was dead, but this guy was something different.
Eugene looked like him. Eugene was healthy like him. He's young. He's breathing. He's...alive.
He's next.
"What--what are you-"
He was blubbering. The guy was broken. But he's alive. The guy was crying. But he's healthy. He was a mess.
I shouldn't have done that. She couldn't feel inside. But there he was--crying, a mess, holding his neck, but alive. I can't kill him.
He'll have to be one of us now.
Jane Bruno was a monster.
