Struck (A Vampire Novel) ✔

One

June of 2013

It was a lovely day for running. The sun was shining, the wind was blowing, and all I could hear was the pounding of my shoes against the concrete and the occasional traffic. For that, I was thankful, because if I had too many witnesses to my current running state, I would die of embarrassment. I am not a runner. In fact, I hated running, but I was late and I had woken up in the middle of nowhere.

Luckily, I was nearby the diner I happen to work at. Unluckily, I was still in my pajamas. I was hoping for a miracle. I spotted the diner and half-ran, half-died through the door. Before I could compose myself, I was greeted by my boss, a rather moody old lady named Eleanor. 

"Eleanor, I can explain," I automatically gasped. She put up a hand sharply.

"You're fired," Eleanor stated, "I don't want to hear it, run on home." I stared open-mouthed at her. I couldn't believe it... well, I could actually. I had already known this was going to happen eventually, but I couldn't believe she expected me to run home.

"But I didn't mean to," I pleaded desperately in a small voice.

"This is the 3rd time this week alone you've been late, and each time it's something else. You've slept walked, your car broke down, your grandma died, yada yada. This was your last chance, young lady, so you can march yourself on out of here," Eleanor waved her hands in a shooing motion towards me. I felt my shoulders slump in defeat and scooted myself out the door in disappointment.

It was true that I did have a bad habit of being late to work, and that perhaps I may have fabricated some stories to try to cover myself for it, but it was better than explaining the truth. Sometimes I had feelings, strange feelings like images similar to dreams, which led me to strange places. And sometimes those dreams resulted in me sleepwalking in the middle of the night. I was never sure if I was just mentally ill or special, but whatever it was it didn't care what kind of schedule I had.

After finally being graced with a phone to call my roommate, I was able to get a ride back to my living arrangement. Honestly, I was basically living off my roommate at the time, a girl named Liv who was a bit of a rock star living off her parents' income. She had the occasional gig at some bars and weddings then spent the rest of her time playing video games like Call of Duty and World of Warcraft. But you can't keep Liv from dreaming.

I, meanwhile, had found her on an ad left at the doorstep of my mother's temporary house requesting a roommate when I was 16 years old. Basically, I paid monthly for a room in her apartment but could use the entire apartment except her room as my own. Sure, I sometimes was late on payments, but by now Liv was used to having me around and preferred me to some fool she didn't know. This also wasn't my first time being fired from my job, but I wasn't too worried because I did happen to be decently good at charming people during interviews.

I didn't have family nearby that I knew of. I had lost my mother to cancer years ago and she had left my father years and years before that. The only thing I was left with was his name, which my mother kept as mine: Monet. Elysia Monet. My mother kept her maiden name, which was Brooks. What impression I did have of my father wasn't good because anytime I tried to speak of him, my mom would only say he was insane and she'd hoped I'd never meet him. That was enough warning for me to never try to find him. Now I was 19 years old, living in New Jersey, and struggling to not wake up in an airfield trying to locate some lost medallion of an ark or something. 

Liv was planning to go to a gig once it got dark out, so I was looking forward to a night alone. We didn't own any pets, even though we both loved animals, mostly because we couldn't afford any at the time and they were a hassle to take care of. So I was in for a quiet night, perhaps reading books, watching programs, and skimming online ads for jobs that perhaps I'd have luck in not being fired from.