Will you trade your blood for muffins?

It's a big suicide FAIL (chapter1)

Sidney's POV:

My stomach crumbled. Again. I brought a whole load of blood packs when I left home, but they didn't last very long. It was clearly my fault, I shouldn't have brought my favourite kind of blood. I simply couldn't stop myself from drinking it, because of it's amazing taste. A typical mistake of a young girl, when she decides that she will only eat cakes, muffins, and chocolate for a year, but after a weak, the food storage is empty. I did exactly that, only in vampire version. And now there I was, standing in my new apartment, starving. All I had was human food, but, even though it filled up my belly, it didn't stop the burning feeling of hunger in my stomach.

I could have eaten of course, only if I didn't have that stupid principle of not drinking the blood of any human who was unwilling to give it to me. And let's be honest, who the hell would offer me his/her blood just like that, without anything in return? They didn't even know about the existence of vampires. Well, most of them. I sighed in defeat. Even though I was strict about my principles, I wouldn't die over them. If needed, I was greatly capable of attacking a random person in the middle of the night, drinking a little of the tasty red liquid, then leave, of course, leaving the prey alive and kicking. I wasn't into killing. That was the reason I left.

My parents, well, they expected me to kill a human next month. As part of the coronation. It was a tradition, upheld by my race for tens of thousands of years, a completely compulsory part of the ceremony. Even though I could bring myself to drink a little bit of blood for survival, killing a human was something I wouldn't do, no matter the circumstances. So I just made up that story of finding my own sacrifice and left home, fully knowing that they would send someone after me when I don't return one week before the coronation. But I still had two weeks left until that, two comfortable, uneventful weeks of vacation, resting in the big apartment, surrounded with luxury, the only problem being the food, which I, frankly speaking, didn't have.

I decided to make steak for dinner, a half raw one with lots of blood, only to make my hunger more bearable until the sun sets, and I can go and have a real meal, which would last for a few days. For that, I needed to go to the supermarket, since I, sadly, didn't have a meat plant on my balcony. 

I wore my favourite sweater, a black one with fangs on it, one size bigger than necessary, to protect me from the cold. It rained outside, so I took my umbrella with me. I liked the raindrops falling on me, and the sound of them, which made me feel calm and relaxed, but I certainly didn't like it's effect on my wavy blonde hair, which I spent hours on every week, to make it look like it wasn't a bird's nest. An unruly one's at that.

I observed my feet, as I intentionally drowned my red sneakers in every puddle I came across. Even as a ninety-nine years old, I didn't grow out of that bad habit. Well, I still wasn't an adult, in vampire years I counted as very young, a rebellious teenage vamp girl. My parents sure had lots of trouble raising me, since my rebelling period was much longer than a human's. I started it sixty years ago, it was absolutely intentional, and I still didn't stop going against them until this very day. Like I did now, escaping my own coronation. 

As I took a few more steps, another pair of sneakers came to my view. Only those ones were very worn out, completely drenched, and dirty as hell. Compared to my red ones they looked like they were at least ten years old, taken out of a garbage can, and not washed out a single time.

I raised my eyes on the owner of the shoes. I thought it would be some drunk person, losing his balance and falling down in a puddle, not caring enough to stand up, falling in a light slumber on the roadside. I was completely shocked when I saw a young boy, who appeared to be the same age as me. Only appeared though, since I doubted he was anywhere near one hundred years old. More like eighteen.