A/N: Thank you to The Reviewer who let me know about the formatting issue, enjoy!
She gasped, eyes snapping open.
Where was she? Who was she? All she remembered was the pain. There was nothing before the pain. The pain was her entire existence.
She glanced around. Dust motes floated leisurely past her gaze. Nearby, a honeybee was paying attention to blooming fuchsias. The depth of their color amazed her. She could see, and hear for that matter, everything. A flock of birds flew above her head, catching her attention. She then realized she was in a dense forest and it was the dead of night. The grass underneath her was soft but failed to comfort her.
She was not alone.
"Hello," a light voice that was almost child-like whispered behind her. Immediately, she shot up, faced this stranger and knelt into a crouch, teeth bared. "Don't worry, everything's alright. I'm not going to hurt you," the figure cooed. She took in the stranger's appearance. Light, pillow-y hair that seemed to rest ever so perfectly atop her head, bright red eyes gazing into hers, a relaxed smile on her face. She was petite, couldn't have come up to her shoulder. She wore a dirty, ragged country dress and lacked any shoes. She was dangerous.
"Clara, listen to me. I am not your enemy. I am a friend, should you so desire. Call me Mary."
Clara. Her name was Clara.
"What-," she stopped her question, not recognizing her own voice. It seemed to ring in the air like a birdsong. She remembered her question, "What happened? Who am I? Where am I? How-,"
"You are Clara Whitlock, from Houston. We are outside Dallas now. I knew you wouldn't want to hurt anyone you cared about on your first day," she finished mysteriously with a grin. "As for what happened," she shrugged, "You were human, now you're not. You are one of us now. An immortal creature. Living off of the lives of others."
She started to remember. Whitlock. Houston. Her family. Oh, god, her family. Her distraught grandmother who raised her and lost her own children. Now she's lost one more. Someone else, a man she loved but lost in the war. Would she never see them again?
"What… what am I?" she asked with trepidation.
Mary lost any glint of mirth on her face, turning into a serious statue. "A vampire."