Everybody relax! I see you guys looking at how long this is, and I'm telling you right now- they're not all going to be this long. This is just my set-up, so I can get
everything into place. Enjoy. ^-^

Rayns, Georgia, November 18, 1919

She supposed, within the seemingly endless amount of time she was currently existing in, that she deserved it. She could see with relative ease why everyone around her before the "shut in" had said that it was right for her to be here. After all, she was different. Strange. Maybe even bad. She saw things she wasn't supposed to, things far, far away that hadn't even happened yet. Things that nobody in her position should know.

Her father had said that she was bad. "An evil, disgraceful freak," he had called her. And her mother hadn't argued with him. Neither had her younger sister. And so, her father had sent for the neighbor man, Mr. Granby. Mr. Granby had sent for many more men, men that were much larger and stronger than her. And they had marched into her house and grabbed her, dragged her right out from under her quilted bed, where she was hiding. Her mother had watched her be dragged over the front door's threshold, her large, beautiful green eyes wide and encircled with deep shadows. The men had picked her up and carried her once they were on the porch, and even though she struggled, it was no use. She had always been small, and it had by no means helped her that afternoon. That softly sunny afternoon with the gentle breeze stirring the orange and red-kissed leaves on the ground in little spirals of whirling color. The afternoon where everyone else's lives were going perfectly, and hers was falling apart before she even knew what was happening.

Mr. Granby and the men she didn't know carried her all the way through the town, and as she struggled, she noticed all the people. A strange, downright abnormal amount of people were standing in their yards and on their porches, watching them walk past with the same strange, dark shaows under their eyes as her mother. There were old men and women, clasping their hands and muttering, some looking troubled, others regretful. There were other mothers and fathers, and she was surprised and hurt by the large number of them that were unexplainedly sneering at her. There were children she went to school with everyday, hiding behind eachother and whispering; pointing at her, hands twisting and untwisting themselves in their clothing, eyes huge and sometimes malicious as they took in her position. Her best friend, Marnie Adamson, was among them.

Marnie stood there staring at her, like the rest. Except there wasn't malice in her brown doe eyes. There was fear. Her soft, ringleting blonde hair was blowing softly in the breeze, and she was pulling on the strings of her favorite blue dress. As she watched, she saw that a single tear slid down Marnie's cheek. And then the men had carried her too far to see, and Marnie was gone.

They didn't carry her far after that. They brought her to a big, graystone building with large golden letters over it announcing the name; she didn't have enough time to read them before she was carried into the building. She was carried up one staircase, and then another. She was carried down a long, white-tiled corridor with actual lights in the ceiling. Flourescents. They carried her through one more threshold, and then finally put her down. Mr. Granby clamped his large hands down on her shoulders, locking her into place so she couldn't escape while several of the men walked to the door at the end of the room. They came back with another tall, strong man, but this one had some strands of silver in his dark brown hair and crinkle lines around his large green-brown eyes. About the same age as her father, from the looks of it. He smiled at her, a very genuine smile, and the crinkles deepened. "Hello, Alice." His voice was friendly too as he addressed her. "Do you know why you're here?"

Of course she didn't. She told him so. The smile grew pensive as he contemplated this, and then in a gentle voice, he explained it to her. 'You're sick, Alice dear. You're sick, but we're going to help you get better here, at the institution. The things you see aren't normal, sweetheart. Nobody else sees them, and we're all very worried about you. So you'll be living here with me and the other patients and staff for a while, while you get better."

Sick? She wasn't sick. Was she? She knew she was different from the other kids at her school. She knew they thought she was strange, and that was the reason that Peter Davis had refused to go to the prom with her, and taken Lacy Gillian instead. But Marnie didn't think she was strange. Marnie thought she was wonderful- she had told her so. And that was all that mattered- right?

Apparently not. Within the same day, she had been moved into the institution with all of her belongings and schoolwork. The nice man, who she came to know as Paul, told her that there were teachers there at the institution to help her learn everything she needed to know for when she was better, and could leave again. Two women named Tammy and Kelly stayed with her in her room, which was big and white with pale pink curtains and the same color pink for a bedspread. All the items such as lamps on the tables were screwed down, so she couldn't pick them up. And the door had a heavy metal bolt. She had a shelf full of children's picture books. And in one corner of the room, a long, heavy looking metal chain hung from the ceiling, ominous and unexplained. But other than these things, her room was nice. Safe, in a way. In this room, there was no one to glare at her. No one to point and laugh, or call her a freak. There was only Paul and Tammy and Kelly, and her four teachers; Mr. Walsh for English, Ms. Stalin for Arithmetic, Ms. Haley for Geography, and Mr. Randef for History. They always only smiled at her. They talked to her like she was a normal person; like she mattered. They told her she was wonderful- like Marnie always had.

Days passed, and at first everything was perfectly fine. Her mother never came to visit, or her father or sister. Neither did Marnie. But that was okay- she would see them once she got out of the institution. And then they would be so proud to see their beautiful daughter and friend, better at last. Lots of time went by; her large green eyes would stare in the mirror bolted to the wall every day, and she could see that her once short black hair was growing longer. And then longer. To her shoulders. Paul never asked her if she wanted it cut, but that was okay- she liked it like that. The days by now had blurred into one, so she never knew what day it was. Kelly and Tammy would tell her from time to time, but she always forgot- it wasn't important.

The thing she noticed the most was that the strange things had not gone away. Everyday, sometimes multiple times a day- she would see. She would see the flickering images, the dancing photographs made of shadow, shimmering in front of her eyes, whispering in her head, telling her things she wouldn't normally have any idea about in her locked room. Things about people she didn't know. People she didn't care about. Kelly would bring her paper and soft, colorful crayons, and everyday she would draw the things playing over in her mind; sometimes, it was as if her hand was moving on it's own, distended from the rest of her body. It was eerie, but she quickly got used to it. She kept the pile of pictures hidden under her bed, and everyday, it got a little bigger.

One day, she decided to show those pictures to Paul. That was her first mistake.
He got very angry when he saw what she had been doing; he started to yell, to storm around the room. He ripped the covers off of her bed, and threw them on the floor. He paced back to where she standing, terrified by his reaction. He grabbed her- shook her as he yelled at her. The teachers came running in, looking worried- Kelly and Tammy did too. They grabbed Paul away from her, and then looked in dismay at the pictures strewn all over the center of the floor. "She's not getting better yet," they said.
"It's time to take it to the next level." They grabbed her, much like Mr. Granby and all those men had on the first day she came to the institution. As one unit of massive strength she couldn't compete with, they dragged her to the corner of the room, with the chain hanging down. They grabbed that chain and wrapped it around her arms, her legs, her neck. They secured it all by a metal hook she had never noticed before, sticking out of the wall. Then she watched with horrified eyes as Paul took something out of the pocket of his long white coat- something mechanical looking. He flipped a switch, and it started to spark and buzz. Her eyes widened in fear; she had heard of tasers, but she had never really seen one. What could he possibly be using it for?

"Electric Shock Therapy."
That's what he used it for.

White hot tendrils of pain arced throughout her entire body, spiralling around and around where the chains were wrapped around her slender body. She heaved herself in every direction, trying to escape, and her agonized screams echoed like that of a tortured soul getting burned alive on a pier of flame. But the chain held her steadfast, and everybody ignored her screams. Through the reddish haze that was now covering her eyes, she could see Tammy and Kelly cringing away from the sight of her, with tears in their eyes. Ms. Stalin and Ms. Haley too. Paul's mouth was set in a line of grim determination as he held the taser to the chains, watching her fry. Mr. Walsh looked like he wanted to pound something; his huge biceps were actually rolling under the sleeves of his white coat. She caught one glance of Mr. Randef at the door to her room; it was open now. His eyes met directly with hers, and in his large golden eyes, such a peculiar colour, she saw her own torture, reflected there. His teeth clenched in a feral grimace, and then he whirled around, rushing through the door and slamming it behind him. He was gone.

Another scream of white agony ripped through her lips.

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After that first day, the torture with the chain came often. As time progressed, it lasted longer. She grew to fear that chain. Grew to fear Paul, with the taser in his pocket and the disturbing light in his green-brown eyes that had once been so friendly. As the torture commenced, she grew painfully thin, and her large green eyes seemed even larger in her pale face surrounded by dark hair that was now to nearly the middle of her back. Those eyes were haunting, luminous like green, fiery stars. And they held a knowledge that nobody as young as she was should have. She had seen things nobody of any age ever should. And of course, there were the drawings.

They always came many times a day now, and she was starting to notice a disturbing reoccurance in them. It came in many different forms; sometimes a soft baby blue, brushed onto the paper as lightly as a butterflies wing. Sometimes a hard, dominant black, pressed so strongly into the paper that it nearly broke through onto the wooden table she used to draw on. But it was always, always the same. Strong, sure strokes carved out a willful jaw, and a strong-looking mouth. A long straight nose, and high, elegant cheekbones. And then exotic, beautiful eyes that held a lifetime of sadness. Eyes that, no matter what color the face was drawn in, were always a startling gold. And that was all. There was no hint as to who the person was, and the face was all wrong for Mr. Randef- even though the eyes were the same color as his, they held too much sadness to belong to him. And the features weren't his anyway.

These haunting drawings became her entire life- she couldn't stop focusing on them. She was bent on discovering who this person was; who, and what. Were they male, or female? Where were they from? Why was she seeing them? Were they important to her? She had no information, and she wanted it all.

Everyday she would draw, and everyday, Paul would punish her for it. "You have to stop this," he would yell at her. "You're never going to get better if you keep listening to these voices, if you keep drawing what you see. Don't you understand?!" It wasn't long after that he started to hit her.

Paul was large, and his fists were hard. Often, they left big blackish bruises wherever they landed. She was still getting thinner, too- and those eyes were only getting older and even more hauntingly beautiful. Beautiful, and sad.

The drawings kept coming, too- always the same information, never even a little bit more. It was unexplainabley frustrating; like her mind was somehow being blocked, like there was some sort of weakness holding her back.

Months passed. Kelly and Tammy brought her pictures of the outside, so she could see that out there, there was snow on the ground and beautiful icicles hanging from the twisting, leafless trees. She saw pictures of ponds frozen over- sometimes, small children skated on them. Pictures of everything she couldn't have, couldn't touch, couldn't feel. Snow falling that she couldn't shake from her hair, or taste on her tongue. Evergreen boughs that she couldn't run her fingers over. Fires in decorated fireplaces, crackling cheerfully away- she couldn't warm her toes by them. Looking at those pictures, she started to understand that the outside world wasn't hers to feel anymore.

She continued to learn all her subjects, even though now her teachers more just stared at her worriedly than actually taught her. She liked Mr. Randef the most- because he never really took any kind of action in the "Sessions". He didn't dominate with fear. And he was always careful that he didn't happen to accidentally brush against her painful black bruises. Whenever Paul started dragging her across the room towards that hanging chain, Mr. Randef would immediately leave the room. And she
appreciated that. She felt that the smaller the number of people that watched her was, the easier it would be for her to deal with the humiliation and pain. She was grateful that he never stayed to watch. Grateful that she didn't have to look into his beautiful golden eyes, and see the judgemental pity of Paul.

But Paul continued to be angry, and he was only getting angrier. The shockings and beatings were only getting worse. And Mr. Randef was getting edgier and edgier. One day, she starightened up from her bolted-down table to study all of the pictures she had drawn- there was a pile. It was the most she had drawn in one day from the time she started drawing them, and Paul noticed. He gathered all of the pictures in front of her, and started ripping them into pieces, yelling at her as he did so. "This does
not exist! None of it is real! Don't you get that? It's all in your god-damned head!" He threw down the paper shreds, and advanced dangerously on her. Smacked her so hard she fell to the floor. He stalked around the table separating them, and reached down to roughly yank her up again. His large hand clamped down on a place that was already thoroughly bruised, and she whimpered.

He didn't hesitate at all, and he started dragging her all by himself to the chain. Tammy came walking in with a tray and a plastic pitcher of orange juice, but by the time she realized what was happening, Paul was already winding the chain around her arms, around her neck- just a bit too tight. She gasped a little as he tightened it still further, so that it was quite uncomfortable and somewhat difficult to breathe. He cruelly jabbed the taser in between her ribs this time, instead of on the chain, and she let
out an inhuman scream as the pain ripped through her like claws in her seemingly petal-thin flesh. It was a whole new level of pain- nothing she was used to. And instead of a red haze, everything was starting to go black around the edges. Her eyes began to roll. She was losing ground.....

"Enough!!" Mr. Randef's voice boomed like thunder across the chasm of her big white room, and Paul was so shocked, he actually listened. She struggled to regain her sense of sight, and through a thick grey haze she could somewhat see the towering form of Mr. Randef storming towards them. He pushed Paul out of the way once he was there, and then tenderly started to unwrap the chain from her body. His large hands easily supported her weight as she fell forward into his arms, her eyes closing as she went. He helped her stumble barefoot across the white tiled floor, and then layed her on her soft pink bed. His hands were exceedingly cool on her skin, which felt slightly charred. When he returned his attention to Paul, his voice was vicious. 'You are a complete idiot! You could have killed her, Paul!" Paul didn't get a chance to reply before he was firing off on him again. "It's obviously too much for her! You can't be so hard on her, Paul. The way you're acting is completely unprofessional, and she can't take it anymore."

Paul sputtered with anger, and then stalked out of the room without another word, pushing past Tammy on his way out the door. He jostled her, and made her lose her grip on the tray of juice. Bright orange liquid went splashing all over the floor. Mr. Randef saw it, and stood up. He quickly helped Tammy clean the mess, and then left the room without looking back. The door made a heavy clicking noise as it automatically locked behind him, and once it was just her and Tammy, she let her eyes slide closed
for the night.

Or so she thought.

She was jarred awake that same night by a slight noise- and when she opened her eyes, they were staring straight into Mr. Randef's. He covered her mouth with one large hand before she could open it, and then used the other arm to lift her out of bed. She didn't struggle- something inside her was telling her not to. Although there was no window in her room and the lights were turned off, there were a number of little white anbaric lights on the ceiling, casting enough light for her eyes to see by. Mr. Randef was carrying her swiftly and soundlessly towards the door to her room- the door she hadn't walked through in what must have been more than a year. She looked up at him as best she could with his hand still covering her mouth. His golden eyes were shining with an oddly determined light, and the anbaric glow was casting a silvery shine on his shoulder-length brown hair. He was completely silent as he reached the door.

He carried her through the halls, which were dark. Through the darkness, if she squinted, she could see heavy metal doors lining the halls that looked just like hers. She shuddered as she wondered if there were people behind them, in exactly the same situation as her.

She didn't have to wonder for too long; Mr. Randef turned off to the right, and opened one more door with his free hand. He stepped smoothly into another room- this one was in pitch darkness. Despite this, he seemed not to have any trouble maneuvering his way across the floor, until they were facing the back wall. He reached out and flipped a switch somewhere on the wall, and the lights came on, casting a dim yellow shine over what looked like a comfortable, modern pass for a jail cell. There was a small bed with a mattress, sheets and pillow built into the wall, suspended without any legs. A simple wooden table that wasn't screwed down to the floor was beside it, accompanied by two wooden chairs. An actual full-sized fridge stood humming in a corner, and a radio was set up in another. A huge bookshelf stood tall and grand, packed to bursting with heavy-bound books- they were nothing like picture books. There wasn't a window, but somehow it didn't matter; the room was soothing.

"This is my room," he said brusquely as he dumped her on the bed. She scrambled into a sitting position as she readjusted the straps on her billowng white nightgown and then arranged the skirts around her. Her green eyes were huge as she watched him begin to pace back and forth across the metal floor. As he paced, he started to talk, and his voice was low and slightly rough as he rushed through what he was saying.

"Paul took things too far today. You could have been killed, and just look at you! Covered in bruises, and stick thin. Nobody deserves a life like this." He whirled around to face her, and all of a sudden he was right in front of her- he had moved much too fast. She blinked as he continued, more softly but still just as urgently. "I'm getting you out of here tonight. You have a better life than this ahead of you." He reached out, and grabbed her chin in a grip that wasn't uncomfortable, but was as
strong as iron. He looked her dead in the eye as he continued, making sure she was paying complete attention. His voice was fierce and thick with emotion when he spoke.

"I'm not going to tell you this won't hurt. It will hurt as much as the sessions; probably more. And it will last for a very long time- forever, it will feel like. But when you wake up, everything will be fresh and new. Things won't be able to hurt you after that, not like they can now. Especially Paul- you'll never have to worry about him again. You can go wherever you want after this. Find a life for yourself." He shook her a bit for emphasis as he finished. "And the things you see? They are not a curse, or a disgrace. They are a gift. Always listen to them- they show you the truth."

He let go of her and the fight seemed to leave him as he said. 'This room is completely soundproof, so they won't hear you screaming. I'll tell them all you've escaped, and they'll never look here- I wouldn't let them in anyway." Something like the ghost of a smile curved his lips as his eyes lit up with the scariest and yet most beautiful light she had ever seen. "I taught you history, young one. But I never taught you about the future. You can't change you're history, but you're future depends on what you make it. Are you ready to make yourself a future you won't want to change?"

All she could do was nod.
And that was when he lunged. She never saw any fangs- he just bit her. And she had time to process one single word in her mind before the pain started.
Vampire.

And then the burning rose up like a wave of black death, and knocked everything else out of it's way.

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It was a slow burn, and it wasn't long before she learned to take it in silence. Afterall, screaming never did any good. And the pain was only slightly worse than the rolling black agony she had experienced the last time Paul tasered her. And she didn't have to worry about the darkness this time- her eyes were closed, and she was already engulfed in a never-ending realm of the purest black anyway. It stretched on, and on, and on. On some more. She grew almost used to the burn, and her pitiful body
accepted it over time for what it was. She discovered that it was only unbearable if she thought about it- and her mind seemed to have much more space than it used to. There were other things to think about. As it was, her head was by no means quiet.

Flickering images raced past her closed eyes, bright with color and thick with a sort of realness that had never actually been there before. Sometimes, she knew the people she was looking at, even though she had never met them before. And they were of all ages. Every shape, size and color. People that had lived long before her. People that weren't even born yet. Through her closed eyes, she saw what they had been, or what they were going to be. What they had done, or what they were going to do. Things they would accomplish. The times they would fail. What they gained, and then what they had to lose. What they really did lose.

She saw images of people she did know, too. Images of Paul, looking for her, trying to hunt her down. Images of her mother and father and sister, not crying for her or missing her. Those images hurt. Images of Marnie, too- Marnie who was getting married in two weeks time, and hadn't given her a thought since a week after the men dragged her away. That hurt even more than her parent's lack of love did. She saw Mr. Randef, running through the night in some foreign land she had never seen before. There was lots of snow on the ground, and he was wearing the shirt and pants he had been wearing the night he grabbed her from her bed. The full moon was shining in his
golden eyes, turning them the color of ice instead. The way he ran was graceful and smooth, and incredibly fast. Beautiful beyond words.

He kept on running. And she kept on burning.......

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When she finally opened her eyes, everything was so chaotically confusing that she thought she actually had died. First, she noticed that she could hear. She could hear every tiny sound, the most miniscule on the spectrum of noise. She could hear many sets of lungs wooshing air in and out- other people? Maybe. She heard someone, probably Tammy, shift her weight from one foot to another on a different floor. Some paper rustled in another room. Someone sighed.

The next thing she realized was that she could see. The light in the room was still turned on, but she somehow knew that she would have been able to see even if there wasn't a spec of light to be found in the place. As she looked, she found that she could, without any difficulty, make out individual grains in the texture of the wooden table, and the two chairs as well. She could see both the light and dark sides of dust motes dancing around in the air. She could see tiny, microscopic scratches on the metal floor below her. She could see everything.

She could taste, too, as well as feel. She could taste the sweet muskiness of the wood on her tongue, as well as the cool crispness of the metal. Something lingering and profoundly sweet and delicious clung onto the soft, expertly woven blankets beneath her, and she coud feel every thread. Instinctually, she knew that it was Mr. Randef's scent. She thought about sitting up- and suddenly, she was in a sitting position. So fast, she hadn't even felt her muscles moving to obey her.

The last thing she noticed was herself. She saw a large mirror that she somehow knew hadn't been there when she first entered this room. She considered going to it- and then she was there. With a feeling that was almost anxiety, she focused on it, wanting to see herself- and gasped.

She was so beautiful it was alien.

Somebody she had never seen before was staring back at her in the mirror. Her face was exquistitely shaped, and completely flawless. It was fine boned and a creamy alabaster in color, the palest skin she had ever seen. Her eyes trailed over her entire body, and she saw that the bruises that had been covering that skin had completely disappeared; it was left as flawless as the features of her beautiful face. Small, perfect nose. Soft, pink lips with an upward curve. Her hair, long and black, was as beautiful as ever, and now had a bit of extra spring to it that hadn't been there before. Although she was still painfully thin, it didn't look painful anymore. She looked smooth and supple and graceful- the best she had ever looked in her life. She took a deep breath- and noticed that she didn't need it anymore. Not at all. Listening intently, she placed one small hand to her breast, over her heart. After a moment, she had determined that it was a heart that had stopped beating. Forever.

The only change that upset her in the slightest was the eyes. Her eyes, once so gorgeous and green, were now something....different. Her eyes were still large, and exotically shaped. They were still beautiful and haunting. They still held every ounce of the sadness she had become so well aquainted with. But now instead of they're regular mossy green, they were the color of vicious red flames.

In another lightning-quick movement, she took an infestimental step back, and raised one small, smooth hand to her cheek. Under her new, perfect fingers, she could feel the strange new texture of her skin. It was just slightly cool; the perfect temperature. And velvety soft, although somehow also rock hard. Indestructible, it seemed.

From now on, she was going to live forever. This was the first day of the rest of.....everything.

She only had about a second to be dumbfounded, and then her inner senses sharpened as she felt another image coming on, telling her what to do.

It was telling her to leave the room. She obeyed, managing to walk at a slightly more normal pace now, and she found that when she moved to open the door, it swung right open. Even though it had been locked with a titanium deadbolt. So she was strong now, too? Interesting.

She didn't have to worry about which direction to go. The images led the way for her, telling her when to turn, and which doors to open. In a matter of seconds, she swung open another heavy metal door- and was standing in the threshold to her bedroom. For some reason, the lights were still on, and the bed was neatly made. The orange-juice pitcher and breakfast tray were empty, but her piles of drawings were still there. She flitted to the table, and reached down to touch them. The paper felt worn and old under her fingertips; grooved down and re-used because of her obsession with finding out who this person was. A soft look came into her viciously flaming eyes, and the tiniest possible hint of a smile came onto her lips.

It was while she was bent over staring at those papers full of golden eyes that she heard the sound of someone entering the room behind her. Her body was running completely on it's own without her consent as the hands touching the paper curled into scary looking claws. A high-pitched scream like an angry wildcat ripped it's way out of her throat, past her snarling mouth. It was still echoing off the walls of the room as she whirled around so fast the movement wouldn't have been discernible to the human
eye; turning to face the intruder of her memories.

As soon as her new eyes took in the face of the person in front of her, she gasped. Large pools of fear expanded in her eyes, turning them mostly black. She felt her body drop into a defensive crouch as another hiss, this time sounding like an angry whimper, broke from her throat.

It was Paul. He was standing there, towering above her even from the doorway of the room, giving her a chilling smile. "Ah, my dear," he sighed, not seeming to notice her reaction. "So good of you to come back to us." He took a step into the room. Another. And then another. With each step he took, she cringed a bit farther back, fear making her muscles move of they're own accord again. That icy smile was still plastered to his face, as fake as the room itself. "Now, dear, you've really misbehaved
yourself this time," he crooned. "I'm going to have to punish you." She gasped, a human sound, and her huge frightened eyes whipped to the corner of the room. Looking for it...and there it was. The long, silver chain, slightly charred in some places, hanging suspended from the ceiling. The icon of fear and hostile dominance.

Paul saw where she was looking, and a shadowy laugh came echoing from his lips, which were still twisted in that cruel smile. "Yes, dear. I'm talking about another "Session." He took one more step forward, and she didn't move this time. Her sharp, inhuman eyes watched as his hand started moving towards the pocket of his long white coat....

She snapped. Another snarling wildcat scream ripped through her lips as she lunged at Paul. This man was trying to hurt her. But he couldn't do anything to her now; Mr. Randef had promised her that. And she had seen for herself that she was strong now. She knocked Paul right to the floor as her small body made contact with his much larger one, and before he even had time to get the wind knocked out of his lungs, she was upright again, dragging Paul by his arm towards the chain in the corner of the
room. As her hand clamped onto his arm, she heard a painful snapping noise, and Paul screamed in agony as his arm broke. She paid him no mind as she continued to drag him across the floor, and in a moment, she was winding the chain around his body. She tied off the metal with a knot and then reached into his pocket to grab the taser. She switched it to automatic, and tossed it into Paul's lap. And then she stood there and watched as he fried.

She took a moment, as he writhed and jerked like a marionette getting it's strings pulled, to appreciate how symbolic this was.

How symbolic his death would be.

Too many times he had hurt her with this chain. Too many times, he had pushed her too far. Too mant times, he had taken a small piece of her life, and tried his best to ruin it. To destroy her spirit, and take what had rightfully been hers from the start.

Not anymore. Not ever again.

As Paul's lifeless body slumped down to the floor and the taser hit the ground, her face lit up into a smile. With one deft hand movement, she reached up and ripped the chain out of the ceiling like it was a loose strand of thread in her nightgown. She let it hit the floor as well, and then with one last look of those sad and haunting red eyes, she turned around and walked out of the room, back the way she came.

She didn't hurt or even go and find any of the other people she had known at the institution. She simply ran down hallways and opened metal doors until she was in the front lobby of the building. She burst out of the front doors, and was standing in the crisp morning air of a February dawn. Her eyes opened wide in marvel as she took in the cold beauty around her. There was no snow falling, but there was an icy wind gently picking up her long hair and playing with it. She looked down at her bare, pale feet, and saw that she was standing in an icy patch of snow. The entire field stretched out before her was covered in patches of this snow, but that wasn't what fascinated her. What fascinated her was that she didn't feel the cold on her skin at all. She was immune to it now. She could stand here like this, in subzero temperatures in nothing but a knee-length white nightgown, and never feel anything but completely comfortable. Her wide red eyes flitted up to the sun, and she found that it no longer burned her eyes to stare at it. And it was beautiful, rising over the faint blue shadows of the distant earth. One of the most beautiful things she had ever seen. One of the first things she would ever see with her new eyes. She was just beggining to refocus on her situation- when an image took over her vision.

She was finally getting the entire picture.

She was back in the institution so fast she didn't even remember deciding to move. She ran back into her room, to the table full of paper and crayons. Grabbing the first crayon she could close her fingers around, she began to draw, her superhuman hand moving across the page much faster than her old human ones had. Every so often, her hand would drop the crayon she was using, and then dart to pick up another one of a different color. In a few minute's time, she was done her drawing, and her hand was still. She moved it aside to look at what she had drawn- and stopped mid-breath.

He was beautiful. So beautiful, it made her ache.

His face was now complete, with the strong, high cheek bones and strong, willful mouth. His skin was as pale as hers, a creamy alabaster color. And those beautiful golden eyes were there. Full of centuries of sadness, and an eternity of knowing- every ounce as haunting as her own. His neck and lower jaw were ravaged with scars, but it didn't take away from his perfection; it somehow added to it, in a way she couldn't really explain. Long, wavy hair the color of old gold framed his face, making him look like an avenging angel. As her eyes trailed down the page, she found strong black writing, in her own hand; the spiralling, spiderweb grace of the letters was undeniably hers. The only thing was that she hadn't written the words of her own accord.

This man is your soulmate.
And then, underneath, there were two words: A location.
Moscow, Russia.

So, this man was her soulmate. That meant he loved her. Did she love him? She didn't even have to think about it- she already knew she did. And her drawing was telling her that she would find him in Moscow.

Within that instant, it didn't matter that her mother, father and sister didn't miss her. She didn't want to go to them. It didn't matter that Marnie was getting married and didn't care about her anymore. She no longer needed her. It didn't matter that she had just read the sign at the front of the building, and she had just realized that for an entire year, she had been kept in a home for crazy people. They had thought she was insane. But it didn't matter to her anymore. She didn't need anybody but this man. So she was going to have to go to Russia, and wait for him until he got there.

She straightened up, still holding the drawing in her hand, and looked into the mirror in front of her. Russia was a long way away. And she wasn't human anymore. This long hair of hers....she felt that it was only right that it should go. It only took her a moment in this new vampire body to find some good, sturdy scissors, and in another minute, she stood in front of that same mirror with locks of her long black hair all around her feet on the floor. She had shorn her hair into a short pixie style that stopped just below the nape of her neck, and the natural flip to her hair had caused it to splay out in all directions. It looked very good on her, and she let out a satisfied smile, and a sigh.

She had no more business at the institution; just as Mr. Randef had promised her, it was now nothing more than a stain; a shadow on the new life she was going to build for herself. Herself, and this man. Without looking back, she turned around, and wheeled out of the building, across the field, and into the distant horizon, her picture still in her hands, and a smile on her face.

My name is Alice. And this is my first day of the rest of my life as a vampire.

That's a wrap.

Okay, this is my newest story, so tell me honestly what you think. Relax; the chapters aren't all going to be this long, I promise.

My next chapter will be through Jsper's perspective, and just a head's up- the year is 1995, as opposed to Alice's chapter, when it was 1920. Of course, Jasper is already an
aged vampire. Everybody is going to be in character. Hope you enjoy this story.

Angel Out.