It all made sense now. His skin condition, why he couldn't be near the sun.
And all the black he wore… coincidence?? I think not.
His lips were red; red like the blood his countless victims shed.
But it wasn't his fault. He was born with it; the bloodlust. The need to sink your teeth into
Something and be in control.
And that was one thing Michael had never been.
He stalked the now secluded room in secrecy; it was 2 A.M. I hid in the corner.
Needless to say that I was a vampire, too. I KNEW I was. Red lips, whiter than a ghost, the need to kill, yet somehow sensitive and vulnerable. Not to mention I was small (unlike Michael); only 5'2" and 110 pounds.
I knew I had strength. It had come out SO many times before at school. And I don't mean in the weight room, either. I was a full-blown attacker. This girl, who by the way was physically and mentally impaired, called me a slut and tried to steal my boyfriend, so I socked her across the face, knocked the wind out of her, broke a couple of her ribs, and, the clincher, I gouged her eyes out, leaving a great bloody mess on the ground, which I fed off of-to stay alive.
I decided enough was enough. I was crouched in the corner for way too long, and my feet were starting to fall asleep.
I pulled my piccolo out from behind the black skirt of my dress, and blew gently.
The peasant melody apparently caught the King's attention, because I felt his surprisingly warm hand on my shoulder.
I looked into his gentle brown eyes, in a complete daze. He closed his eyes and kissed me gently. As if on cue, I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him back fiercely. His hands gripped my blond hair tightly, and he started moving down to my neck…
The blood dripped onto my milky white collarbone, my fingers locking into his. Alas, it might sound beautiful on the outside, but we did this to live…