She opened her door just a crack – no more than three inches. But it was just enough. It was just enough to let her thin little pussycat slip through the crack, escaping the downpour that soaked through the poor creature's skin, causing it to mew at the door for the past hour. It was also just enough for me to slip a finger in, preventing the door from closing.
Because of what I am, the door didn't slam against my finger, bouncing back from the collision. I was made of something much, much more lethal than wood, so I simply dented the door at first, as if it were clay. She wouldn't have noticed if she wasn't so meticulous.
The girl was preoccupied by something, also while fretting over her soaking cat, that it took her a moment to realize her leaning against her front door would not close it. Frustrated, she turned around and I got a full glimpse of her face.
Her lovely brown hair wasn't parted rigidly, but flowed across her skull, suggesting she constantly brushed her fingers back through it. Her eyes, as naturally brown as her hair, had beautiful flecks of gold that reflected the porch light at a certain angle. Her eyes were warm and her pupils, large from the dark night, no doubt, were the main feature of her face. Their beauty compensated for the rest of her rather plain façade. She wore no make-up that I could see, enhancing her natural beauty.
When she turned and pressed all her weight agianst the door, looking for the source of the jam, and her eyes finally found my slender, white finder, she let out an audible gasp and jumped back, letting the door swing open an inch or two.
I was then able to slide my hand around the frame, slowly exposing the rest of my translucently white flesh as it crept across the wall. I could hear her heart slowly accelerate. It wasn't quite racing yet; she didn't know she was in danger yet. Right now I simply intreagued her, plagued her interest and wiped her mind of everything she had on it: exactly what I planned to do.
I followed the motion of my hand, slowly sliding my body inside her house, keeping tight against the wall, watching slowly as more of me appeared her eyes grew larger and her breathing picked up. Her heart rate still wasn't hyperactive, showing that she had no idea what she was facing.
I was sure my undeniable beauty was also another factor that caused her to hesitate, hardly able to believe an angel such as myself could be harmful, despite the fact that I was forcing entry into her home.
Once my back was completely flat against the wall next to her front entry, my hands free of the doorway, I slowly pushed the door closed until I heard the bit click in to place. The door itself was not locked, just closed, but I didn't find it necessary to lock it.
A) I knew she wouldn't try to escape that way and B) I'd catch her anyway and I'd rather not break such a lovely, intricate door if I'm in a rush and could have just opened it easily, without breaking it.
There was a moment's silence as her pretty eyes stared with a mix of mystery and fright into mine own. Although my presence itself was enough to confuse the poor girl, I'm sure my ruby red eyes, brighter than any of those contact confections doctors have come up with, were enough to stop her in her tracks.
Before I got too wrapped up in her limited, terminal, fleeting, mortal beauty, I woke myself out of my inspection of her eyes. I needed to go through with it.
"Good evening," I said pleasantly, all the fluently poetic words and phrases from the era of my human past flooding out into my voice, making it overly-inviting and undeniable. I was sure my scent furled off my tongue in an appetizing way, as well. Although she was a sure four to five feet away, I knew she could smell it. If not, she knew how alluring I was. They all did.
There was another moments hesitation; this one didn't seem as long as the last. When – she ran.
For a split second she seemed to teeter on stepping forward, her body rocking in my direction, until she turned suddenly (for her, an expected move to me) and sprinted up her staircase. Her breathing increased to pants and her heart rate shot up, pulsing wildly through her veins.
I'd already moved to pursue her, at a normal, human pace; I tended to play with my food before I struck. It wasn't until the last second of their life that I exposed what I truly was, hoping that, when they moved on, they were able to show the other lucky souls the wrath of undead and the practices we were condemned to.
She slammed a door and locked it, then tried to throw something that sounded like a wooden bench in front of it. She fell to the floor, shaking and cowering, crying and muttering to herself as she tried to crawl across the floor quickly, her nerves slowing her down all the while. I leaped lithely up the stairs to come to a stop just outside the door she barricaded herself behind, lightly standing on my toes, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Her trembling fingers finally reached a surface where they haphazardly grabbed on to an electronic device; the slight hum of electricity flowing never heard by its owner's lame ears informed me it was turned on, most likely a phone.
I heard the phone suddenly clatter on to a wood floor; she'd dropped it. Her shaky hands trembled across the floor as she searched for it to pick it up again; it was dark in the room.
As her epileptic fingers managed to flip open the phone and attempt to dial the emergency number, I decided it was time.
Before her thumb managed to press down firmly enough on the 9 key, I grabbed the door handle and pushed it open in to the room, denting and warping the lock while also knocking the bench that was pushed up against the door out of the way.
The trembling girl dropped the phone again and involuntarily slid herself back across the floor, further away from me.
Her eyes were glistening with tears as she feared for her well-being, not yet aware of my true, lethal intentions. Her sleek, probably soft hair fell across her face, obscuring her eyes slightly. I didn't like that.
I wanted to see her pain before I struck. I wanted to be lost in her eyes. I wanted the last thing she remembers to be the ruby red pits of my eyes; to know that it wasn't just her; to know that it wasn't her fault; to know that this wasn't my choice.
Her fright clearly surpassed comprehending the fact that I just pushed opened a locked and (poorly) barricaded door like they were made of butter, starting to sink in to the realization that this was worse than she had thought.
The room was pitch black, to her eyes, and the light from the hall leaked in through the doorway I'd just busted. The only source of light in the room was the open cell phone, which emitted a synthetic, blue light. Those two sources bounced off her pupils, mirroring the same fear I'd seen in all the others.
Like all the others, her eyes bore in to mine, communicating the inescapable fear of the fate she was about to fulfill.
I sauntered forward, sinking fluidly to kneel on the ground across from her, but not yet touching her.
She didn't move a muscle, save for the fact that her whole body was convulsing with trepidation. Her left hand still hung in the air in front of her, shaped like it were just cradling something. Her right shook violently over her left, her fingers extended daintily in the same position one would use to dial a phone number.
But it was like she didn't even notice the phone that dropped on the ground next to her. She didn't notice the minuscule flickering of the hallway light due to a fly flicking back and forth on top of it. She didn't even notice my right hand creeping up, slowly towards her.
She only had eyes for me. For my eyes. We were locked in each others' gazes, our thoughts clearly on how her life would end, for it was clear to her now: she would not last the night.
My hand was no more than an inch away from her chin, reflecting the shape of it but not touching her. I felt her uneven, quivering breath pouring out of her mouth and glancing off the heel of my hand.
Her eyes, glazed all the while, never shed a tear. Fright was clear in them, they grew larger from the moment I entered her home, but not one drop of moisture fell.
She was condemned, and she knew it. There was no point in wasting emotions over what was sure to come. The scare was so overwhelming to her at the moment that she didn't have time to think past her inevitable doom.
It was lucky for her kind, really, that the synapses were too slow to send the current to make the light bulb flicker, to say, "You're about to die." But I couldn't lament the lethargy of her system, I wasn't even sure I had the ability to create synapses.
Only milliseconds ticked by as I took in her expression and pondered over it. I doubt she even registered the time that passed until it was an entire second.
I leaned in slowly, closing the small gap between our faces. Our eyes remained locked, her afraid to break my gaze. I knew, even as I finally broke free and kept sliding my face forward so that my cheek was only millimeters away from hers, my mouth right next to her ear, that her eyes still stared forward, as if they still saw mine.
Only when I finally opened my mouth - the air from it escaping into her ear, creating more shivers before I even spoke - and said, "This won't hurt a bit, I promise," did she finally move.
Her back arched away from me to bring my form in to full perspective. My face was sure to be shadowed by the unlit room, but there's no doubt she remembered the crystal color of my eyes.
My hand remained cupped, like hers had been a moment before, and could fit the exact shape of her face, but I waited. She stared at me for what felt like an interminable time, but was not more than ten seconds, before she spoke.
"I wish you were as lucky," she exhaled, hardly having the breath in her to speak.
My brow furrowed the slightest as I tried to understand her meaning, could she know?
Before I let myself lose track, forget my mission, I struck.
And her life was over.