Scars

The steel 215 house number seemed to shine under the light of the torch. The mailbox was an everyday cut up gas cylinder painted a light green that seemed to have an energy behind it. I couldn't go any further, I was restricted. Nothing was going to get in the way of my idea. It has to work, I will get there whether it kills me. I turn the torch off and the beam of light that was there is now engulfed with the darkness of the light. I run my fingers along my black satin dress. I need to get that revenge, I will get help from my revenge and that way it will be easier for me to live with myself. I may not like this girl, but she is an airhead so I think I will do just fine.

 I beat my fist against the invisible force restricting me, restraining me from my unfortunate victim.

I can hear talking and shoes scuffing along the ground from inside. behind the door. I throw a stick at the door. In mid-throw the door opens. Hole-in-one shot. Yes. I can see a slightly battled figure, The mother, I don't want her.

"Um, Miss Prince, My stick accidentally went into your house, Um, would it be okay if I could get it?" I ask in an innocent voice.

"Oh, sure you can," She replies. She is as stupid and gullible as her daughter. Must run through the family.

I walk past the no longer restricting force. Strut over to the house as Miss Prince goes around the corner of the house to do unknown business. I enter the door pick up the useless stick and leave the house.

"Thanks Miss Prince," I say in the most "innocent" voice I have.

"Oh don't worry about it," She says with the most "grandma" voice she can use.

I wait outside for the lights to go out.

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I glance down at my watch. 12:29 a.m. and the lights have been out for two hours. I creep over towards the door with my high-heeled boots making a soft clunk along the pavement. I softly sneak up the concrete stairs leading to an ordinary suburban house with the traditional hedge shrubs planted alongside the turning trail trying to reach out for me. I reach the door and I slowly turn the door handle until there is a faint clunk and I push the door open enough so I can squeeze my satin-coated body throught the hole. I know from experience that Loretta's room is along the hallway, near the end. I creep along the hallway. I reach the room. Luckily, the door is open. I sneak through the open doorway. I stand at the end of the bed and stare at the body on the bed. Her blonde hair is spread along the pillow and leaking off the side of the bed.

I walk to the side of her bed. I can feel it happening. My Eyes are changing along with the slight discomfort. I loose my sight for a few second, it comes back and nothing has changed. I poke my fangs to check that they are ready for action. Pointy, good. I lean over to her jugular. Wait. I stop in the air. I'm forgetting something. I put gloves on my hands and cover her mouth. She doesn't move. I lean the rest of the way and I can feel my fangs piercing her thin, soft skin. She starts moving. I drink. She really is slow. She would be out cold by now. I can't take it all.

I take my right glove off and slice the top of my index finger so that there is a gash the size of my finger nail. I squeeze a small amount of my blood into her mouth. I take the unconcious body out of her bed and carry her out of her room, out the hall and out the same door I came in. She will regain her conciousness tomorrow. I take her out of the street and place her into a black car that is rightfully mine. I kick into gear and drive it out of here. I am going to an underground house in Queensland. She is not the last one I will need my next victim: Berri Gordon, New South Wales.