Colors danced behind my eyes, until the world fell into a haze of dark mist. Black fissures of power within arm's reach. Mine. Magic slammed into me, endless and vast like a tidal wave coming in and crushing over my head. I took it, absorbed it, glutted myself on it because it felt good. No consequences. No pain.

There are some absolute truths I believe in. You have to have principles, if you want to survive in this world. You need something to hold on to; to survive the bumps in the road life throws in your way. Call it what you want, but it's like there's a set of laws of physics my very own world operates on. I know who I am. My name is Anna Johnson. I am an elemental witch and my element is air. From the diary of Anna Johnson

... for a moment I thought that everything was back to normal, that I was okay. But then it came crashing down on me. Blood was valuable. Blood was life. The loss of blood had a price. A high one.

I was the 6th-grade "slut." And I kept a diary. So I decided to create The UnSlut Project in the hopes that my own diary entries could provide some perspective to girls who currently feel trapped and ashamed. I am publishing these entries one at a time, without changing a single word except for the names of the people involved. My limited commentary, which is confined to brackets in each entry, is meant to provide the relief of my current perspective, fifteen years later. The UnSlut Project: Working to undo the dangerous slut shaming in our schools, communities, media, and culture by sharing knowledge and experiences.

SEQUEL TO FROZEN TEARS. COMPLETED. "Hey darling," a dark man with vampire red eyes greets me with a sudden hand curling around my neck and lifting me off the ground. He tilts his head and looks behind me as I claw at his hands, trying my best to get away from his powerful hold that doesn't seem to want to let me go. I don't need to breathe, but dammit it hurts when his nails dig into my skin. "I saw your little friend walk in here, and I'm more than happy to have a taste." "I'm not exactly sharing," I hiss through gritted teeth, and with a throaty laugh he drops me to the floor. I'm back up in a second, lunging for him with canines extended. // NO PICTURES THAT I USED TO MAKE THE COVER ARE MINE // Copyright 2016 - Sophia Kjeldbjerg. All rights reserved. No part of this story may be copied, reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted to anyone. It cannot be transmitted or copied by any means - such as by electronical devices, photocopies, recordings, mechanicals or any other forms - without prior written permission by the author herself. Copying this story is a violation of the copyright law.

COMPLETED. "What are you?" he asks, his deep melodious voice vibrating in my ears. I refuse to show him any weakness, any fear at all. I stare into those endless eyes. "I don't know..." my body is covered in shivers when he lights up in rage and punches the brick wall behind me, creating a perfect dented hole, as if the wall was made of plaster. "Don't test me, princess," he hisses, bending further in towards me. "You have no idea what I could do to you." he licks his lips, and I have just enough time to catch a glimpse of pointy teeth before a raging pain slices through my neck. ............... Emma Sanders is a seventeen-year-old girl, moving to a foreign town, one of those that you wouldn't find on a map, except maybe if you measured it by inches. But a secretive group of blood, fangs, and mystery has her attention, and it would destroy anything in its path to figure out what she really is. ............... Copyright 2014 - Sophia Kjeldbjerg No part of this story may be copied, reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted to anyone. It cannot be transmitted or copied by any means - such as by electronic devices, photocopies, recordings, mechanics or any other forms - without prior written permission from the author. Copying this story is a violation of the copyright law.