Hey, it's me again! I'm writing this story cause I love you. That's right. YOU. kk bai :P
On September 23 John Derry took his last breath. After that, his brain told him to gasp for more air, but his heart stopped before he could.
Before that day, John would have been remembered as the nicest kid you could have met, but on the twenty-third, he made one tragic mistake, and after he made that mistake, everyone thought he was a goner. He was.
He was very popular and he had more friends than anyone at his school. He even had a girlfriend named Maxine, whom he was constantly attached to. They were beautiful together, and every single couple envied them. John was getting perfect grades and was the lead in almost every school play he had been in. It would seem that he was absolutely perfect, but was it possible that he was too nice? Maybe if he was a little more cruel he would be alive today, but we will never know.
John was a short boy, only about five foot-six, with wavy brown hair that shined in the Washington sun. All the girls wanted him. All the boys wanted to be him.
He had only a few flaws. One was that at the age of nine, he was diagnosed with bipolar, and this had gotten into a few pickles in the past, but nothing too hard to be fixed. His only other flaw was that he couldn't swim. This was because when he was seven, he witnessed his mother and the baby in her tummy drown. They were on the family boat fishing, when an unexpected storm came. And when I say "unexpected" I mean "unexpected". Even the experts at the news station said it would be nothing but sunny. It was sunny…until about four-o-clock that day. The boat tipped over. John's dad Connor was able to save John, but being pregnant weakened the beloved Molly Derry and her growing daughter Katrina, and they kicked and kicked, but soon found themselves at the bottom of the pacific ocean.
John never came close to deep water ever again, not even swimming pools. He soon forgot how to swim, and he never believed that would hurt him in the future. It did.
Needless to say, everyone loved him…until September 23, that is.
He thought he would live for years and years. At least until he was eighty, but there he laid, covered in blood that was crusting over, with gashes all over his body, and his legs both snapped in half like twigs.
He just laid there. He could not move at all. He was in so much pain. The man that stood over him spit John's blood back onto him.
John Jason Derry would regret the day he fucked with a vampire.