Gemma

For each human year I was alive, I could vaguely remember the stories the nuns at my orphanage had told me. My parents died in a car crash. My house caught on fire. Tragedie, followed briefly by death. Tragedie, death. Tradgedie, death.

And you probably think that as a seven year old at the time, and my parents had just passed away, I would know the true story, the true tradgedie, the juicy details. And as the nuns were incredibly gossip engrossed they fed me these stories by the spoonful, hoping one day, my little seven year old mouth would open up and tell them the reason my heart aches.

Much to their dissapointment, I didn't. It wasn't like I couldn't tell them or I was incapable of speaking but it was the fact that whatever story I told them, would have been a down-right lie. It wasn't ever that I didn't necessarily want to tell them, it was more due to the fact that I didn't actually have a clue. Somehow my little kid brain had managed to push away the way my parents had died and adopted a sense of comfort in my clueless child brain.

I wanted to remember my parents. I wanted to say that I had som vague but complete memory of my birth parents. I wanted to be able to show off my parents at school. And I didn't want to be obsessed with death.

Yes obssessed with death. It was like some part of me that I couldn't reach was trying to speak to me throught my freaky embracing of the worlds loss of light and reign of darkness. I was a kid who wanted asparagus and loathed chocolate cake. A kid who wanted the closet and hated the thought of sun. And I suppose that was what ended up being my ending of human life. I mean, what else could have happened to a sixteen year old to kill her so cruelly and take her to a side of darkness she's never seen?

Apparently there were several ways.

My name is Gemma Marie Laurince. I am a sixteen year old vampire who can't remember how her parents died and was the child who loathed chocolate cake.