"Tiffany!" I hear a female voice call. I look up from the pale, white scare on my hand to see a beautiful blond girl hurrying toward me. One of my best friends; except now, the urge has become irrisitable. I smile and look out again at the big, white Hollywood sign glimmering in the distance.
"Glad you could make it," I say calmly as the girl pants beside me. The three-inch heels couldn't have been helping her run much. She smiles at me, then reaches into her bag and grabs a package of gum. "Want some?" She asks, holding the package out to me. I shake my head, watching her perfectly groomed fingernails shimmer in the sunlight. She shrugs and puts the package away. I shift anxiously from foot to foot. I've done this before; why am I suddenly so nervous?
Taylor, noticing my anxious movement, raises her eyebrow in question at me and asks, "What's up? You seem . . . nervous." She had no idea.
I shrug and move over to the edge of the shade away from her. Taylor moves under the awning above me, into the shade. I feel a sharp pain in my lips, but I dare not to open my mouth. I must have looked like I was in pain, because I feel a hand on my shoulder, and the quiet, concerned voice of Taylor, "Tiffany?"
I turn, and she gasps, "Tiffany, your eyes are GREEN!"
I grimince as another sharp pain hits my lips. Taylor looks at my face contently, confused. I don't blame her. But she needs to know the pain some of us go though. I open my mouth, and Taylor screams in terror. I cover her mouth with my hand.
"Be quiet!" I hiss. She freezes, probably out of delayed fright. I know I'm a sight to be seen when I'm like this; too bad I can't see my reflection. "I know my eyes are green. I know I have fangs. I don't need to be told twice!"
Taylor looks at me, pain in her eyes. She's probably confused, poor little soul. Lucky thing she is, even having a soul. I take a deep breath and continue, "Taylor, listen to me. I'm about to offer you something so irrisitable, so lovely, that you won't be able to turn it down. I'm offering you," I pause for dramatic effect. Taylor seems to be intriged, but uncertain. I continue, "the chance to live forever."
Taylor gasps and faints, right there and then. I smirk and whisper, "Good choice."
I lean over and prop her up against the wall, making sure she was stable before I let go. Then, fingering the scar on my neck, I lean over and touch her neck. It was pretty, and I felt sort of bad to be damaging it permenatly. But hey, that's what turtlenecks are for. I take a deep, shaky breath and bite. Her flesh breaks as the red liquid soars into my mouth. I suck in down until there's none left. Then I unhook my teeth, pull out my pocketknife, and cut myself on top of the small scar on my hand. Out came a clear, transparent liquid, which I hold up to her neck and rub over the cut I've just made.
Taylor Swift would wake up in thirty minutes or less. I had to clear the scene.
I pull on the hood of my sweatshirt and pull the strings tight. Then I put on my sunglasses as the pain in my lips lessen. My fangs always cut my lips, leaving scabs. That's why kissing people is so embarrassing. That's also why I don't date; at least, other than the fact I'm a vampire.
I dash out from under the awning, and run out of the ally, past people on the streets. One reason I relocated to Chicago after I was bit is because it's cloudier and windier here, and people don't give you weird glances if your wearing sunglasses on a stormy day because sunglasses are considered "in". But sadly, today was bright and sunny.
I stop in front of my apartment building. Taking a deep breath, I walk inside, ducking my head and keeping my eyes on the ground. I don't want to attract unwanted attention. I nearly bump into a wall and decide that it might be safer to watch where I'm going. On pushing the elevator button, it opens, and I walk in, pushing floor 13. Sure, ask questions, but I do live on the unlucky floor in my apartment building. It's how I roll.
The elevator opens, and I walk out, pulling off my sunglasses. The windows on this floor are almost always draped with a heavy, purple curtain that blocks the sunlight completely. How convienant, right? I stop in front of the last door on the floor. The number was worn and hanging slightly off, but it was still Apartment number 33.
I opened the door and walked in. It was really dark; Echo likes the lights off. "Echo, I'm home!" I yell down the hallway. No responce. I raise my eyebrow and walk slowly, saying, "Echo, if you're going to jump out and sc-AHH!"
Echo was floating. Above the couch.
Since when did she know how to do that?
Vampires don't float until they reach a certain point in their maturity level. It's like a certain, you know, initiation. It's the first step to becoming a real vampire. I started to be able to float right after I was first bitten; sadly, not for Echo. She was always a bit immature for her age level. Now that she's a floater, she will suddenly get the urge to stop drinking animal blood, which is what all fledglings drink, and want to learn how to feed. I had to teach myself, and trust me, it was not fun. Thankfully, Echo will have me around to show her the ropes.
If you haven't guessed yet, you're pretty slow. My name is Tiffany, I'm seventeen years old, and I am a vampire.
For real.
