Nightmares are Dreams, too~

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Ummm, enjoy? Sorry if it's bad? Are you still reading this? Just read the story already and tell me what you think! Okay?

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How?

That's all I can think right now. She had said yes. She promised. And now? Here she is, same pretty girl, the girl of my dreams. With her caramel colored hair and her pretty blue dress, looking less beautiful than she would if that leech latching on to her now would just disappear.

I recognized him immediately. My tormentor, the one who always tripped me on my way to class. The one who always knocked over my lunch and made sure it spilled on me. The one who could pass off as an Olympian god with his figure compared to mine. The one who was kissing the girl of my dreams.

I try my voice for words, but it doesn't work. I'm starting to feel stupid now. How could a girl like Caroline like a guy like me, let alone go out on a pity date. I mean, come on I had a pretty good figure, but I'm pale-skinned with black hair that's too long and makes me look like a goth or emo kid. Of course she would prefer Ethan Cleed than mega-dweeb-me.

When they finally break away after an eternity of making out, Caroline finally notices me. I'm judging from the look on her face, I'm either disgusted, crying, or both. Most probably both.

" Oh, Brink, I am so sorry I-" she started, but Ethan couldn't miss this chance to make fun of me.

"What's the matter, dweeb? Are ya crying 'cause I took away your only prom date, whoops sorry, pity-prom date? Or rather your first date period." he started laughing.

"Right, Calagari?"Ethan continued to talk. "Aww, are you sad because you got all dressed up for nothing? Why don't you go crying to your mommy? You little mommy's boy!" And he continued to laugh in that obnoxious stupid laugh he has. But that's not what got me, no you see what got me was that Caroline was trying to not laugh.

I started to back away, not because I was sad about Caroline or scared that Ethan was going to beat the living crud out of me, but because I was simply confused.

I turn around and ran before anyone could stop me. I ran as far as my legs could carry me. When I stopped I realized just how cold it was on this particular November night. I could see my breath, even. My blood was pounding in my ears, but I payed it no mind. Sweat made my hair stick to my head and shirt to my body.

I decided to wear my best clothes since it was a prom night. Well, as best of clothes as I had. Which consisted of a black shirt that was supposed to be tight, but I was too small for it, with a black jacket that wasn't keeping the cold out, and black jeans that had recent holes in the knees from where I tripped on my way out of the house that morning. My shoes were worn and dirty, but I didn't care. Not now anyway. I pulled my hood over my head and zipped up. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and continued to walk down the street to who-knows-where. I really didn't care. I'd rather die of pneumonia, or rabis or something.

The street lamp lights were just now kicking in. By the time I walked at least two more miles, the lamp lights were the only things keeping away total darkness. I started to feel as if someone was starting to follow me. But, like in those cheesy killer or vampire movies, no one was there whenever I turned around. I stopped and did that twice. Wow, I remember thinking, next time I turn back to face foward, some murderer or vampire is going to be right in front of me. I stopped and turned around, slowly to add effect to my fake cheesy murder movie. Oh look, I thought. There's a a stranger in a trench coat, and oh, look, he's biting my neck and sucking my blood, just like in those corny movies. Wait a minute...There's a stranger in a trench coat and he's sucking my blood like in those cheesy vampire movies!

The funny thing is, there actually was.

And I'm still not doing anything about it. Why?

Well, for one, I was becoming immobile very fast, and two, everything just sort of blacked out he said, "Welcome to Adincitor City, my new blood child."

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 Kind of short.....okay really short.

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