Swiggity Swampire My Roommate's a Vampire

What Do You Mean I Can't Eat Garlic Anymore?

If you ever think you done fucked up real bad, think again. Now, you might ask yourself, what has this character done that could be so diddly dang horrible? Well, dear reader, I personally didn't do anything wrong. My horrible mistake was deciding to go to college. Education shouldn't sound too bad, especially when you're just an art student trying to get a Bachelor's Degree, but I mean- let's be real for a sec. I probably shouldn't be allowed out too much, for various reasons. Reason number one being because I have crippling social anxiety. Reason number two is because I have this neat little problem scientifically referred to as lycanthropy. Yep, that's right dear reader, I- Hynden Fischer- am a werewolf.

Let's get one thing straight, though. I am not some pretty-boy, Twilight wolf shit. I'm not even a boy. What I am, or what I can be I guess, isn't some giantass wolf with human feelings. No sir, I'm a vicious predator. I mean, you probably couldn't tell if you ever saw me. I'm, like, 5'2" at least, I'm not very scary looking. I don't think I've ever even retained human anything when I become that monster. I mean, I usually don't think about it- or remember anything that happens after a full moon. It's sort of like having memory lapses, or like having a really bad hangover. I think it was my parents' idea to send me to college. They're the ones who wanted me to go off and live my own life. I mean, don't get me wrong, I wanted that too. I don't think I can have my own life, though. Not anymore at least. I think the last time I even had a place in my own life was when I was fifteen, before I got bit. Before I turned into this.

My first day of college, I ended up standing in front of the girl's dormitory with my suitcases and no one to help me up the stairs or even help bring my things up. My parents hadn't showed, they were too busy with something regarding my siblings. Being the second oldest of five was pretty tough, especially when you're the one who's the least sportiest. So I sucked in a deep breath, and with it all of my fears and anxiety, and put one dirty, worn out sneaker in front of the other and climbed those damn steps right up to the front door. I pushed through the metal-and-glass doors, squinting at the steps. Sometimes, thanks to my poor vision, colors blurred together. The steps happened to be all white, which sorta made it difficult to tell where each individual step was. I guessed if I fell, I'd make some poor, depressed student's day. I set my luggage down briefly to glance at the palm of my hand, which was where I- the genius- had scribbled down (very poorly, I might add) my dorm number. I think I was in Room 211, but I could've written it down wrong. I was hoping I hadn't. I snatched my suitcases up again and attempted to make my journey up the stairs a success, my dark eyes narrowed in determination. I would not make a damn fool of myself on my first day, and luckily no one was even near the stairs.

I did not fall, however, and I thanked the gods for my safe passage up the twelve stairs. Twelve down, another two flights to go. I began my journey up the second flight, hoping that I was victorious once again. But, then again, if I fell maybe I'd die and not have to go through any more schooling or full moons. However, that's just wishful thinking. I doubt that if I got hurt anything would happen. Usually, nothing happened anyways unless I grabbed anything pure silver. One time, I grabbed, like, a spoon or something from my grandparents' drawer and ended up burning my palm. It took three weeks for that burn to go away, and I had to tell everyone that I just burned myself with a curling iron- and I don't even use curling irons! I grumbled at the memory, continuing my trek up the stairwell. Occasionally I heard the chatter of other females or the melody of some music tune on a speaker, phone, or computer; but other than that my journey was silent. I finally reached my dorm after about fifteen minutes and began to fumble through my pockets to find the key I had been given. Hopefully, I still had it. I'm usually prone to losing things.

"Ha!" I grinned, snatching the key from the pocket of my jacket.

Upon locating the key, I jammed it into the door knob's keyhole and twisted. Once I heard the click of the lock, I pushed the door open and waltzed inside, kicking my shoes off by the door and setting the key on the nearest counter top. The room was nothing special or big, just a simple dorm. The kitchen and the living room and the dining room was just one little space, and there was a smaller room to the left with thin bunk beds. The room to the right was a tiny bathroom. There wasn't any furniture at the moment, but hopefully mine would arrive tomorrow if my parents decided to show. I, myself, had only packed a few 'essentials'- a couple of blankets, a few books, my favorite pillow, a calendar complete with the phases of the moon, and a few notes I had written down in a tiny little journal to help keep myself under control if something happened, not to mention the small box of dishes my mom had told me to bring. My roommate, I realized, had not yet shown up. I didn't know who they were, honestly, and I hadn't gotten a name from the receptionist. Maybe they'd be nice. I hoped they'd be at least pleasant. I went to go and place my things in the little room I was to share with a complete stranger, but I immediately stopped once my back began to itch. I instantly dropped my belongings so I could eradicate the itchiness on my upper back, but my arms were too short and alas, I could not reach. So, due to the unfortunate circumstances of having short arms, I did the most reasonable and logical thing.