Hi there, I have finally decided to post a story. I have another story on a different account that I stopped doing due to lost of inspiration, but I'm hoping to stick to this one. I'll try to update at least once a week, I'm always doing something, so bare with me.

Now I know some people for uncomfortable with some things so here you go

WARNING: contains mild depression, undetailed attempts at suicide, drug use, violence, gore at some point, language, sexual themes, and vamps.

I'm going to leave that there as my only warning, so if any of those make you uncomfortable, please don't read./strong/p

I hope you all enjoy my story and I apologize for any misspellings or grammar mistakes.

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The summer nights air was slightly chilled on her bare legs from being so close to the ocean water, she almost regretted wearing the simple dress, but the joint in her hand made her not care. Walking on the beach in the middle of the night had always occurred to her, but everyone knew Santa Carla wasn't safe, especially at night.

However, this no longer mattered because she wasn't going to be alive much longer.

She smiled to herself as her feet touched the chilling water, making them covered with wet sand. She let her arms stretch above her head and inhale the ocean air. She had always thought it proper to die at the hands of nature. Many times she had thought of ending her life to stop the thoughts screaming at her from the depths of her mind, but she could never follow through with it. Before she felt everything with every word her mind spat at her, so many nights standing in front of the mirror with a blade to her wrist, only to fall to the floor in tears, to afraid to even draw a prick of blood.

But after so much failed attempts and tears, she felt nothing.

Everything felt like it was in slow motion everyday, she woke up in her darkened room, drank her coffee, got her weekly phone call from her mother to tell her what a mistake it was to drop out of college, get ready for work, work a 5 hour shift at a diner that barely had customers, then sleep and repeat.

The thoughts still screamed at her, but they no longer stabbed at her, they just numbed her more. With each passing day she felt more and more of her self fading. She just couldn't take it anymore. If she couldn't do it herself, then she'd let nature take her…

So here she was, finally content with what she was doing with her life. Ending it.

She took a short last drag of the joint and then dropped it onto the wet sand. She blew out the remaining smoke in her lungs and took a step toward the clashing waves.

"Thats quite a waste of a joint, don't you think?" A low velvety voice drawler out with mirth.

In her now weed induced state, the voice sent a nice feeling that draped over her skin. A lazy quirk of the corner of her mouth indicated that. She tilted her head slightly to look at him.

"I guess you're right. I didn't realize how large I made it, but tonights a little different so…" She said slowly, feeling like this was a dream, but she guessed that was the weed too.

Looking a little closer at him, she saw that his hair was a platinum blonde, especially under the glow of the moon. She stopped herself from snorting at his mullet, though it did suit him. His jaw was covered with slight scruff and his eyes were made of ice. He wore all black, with a long trench coat brushing slightly past his knees. She found him attractive.

"Different how?" He drawled out, a smirk making its way to his mouth.

She looked back towards the waves, feeling nervous now. Should she keep talking to this stranger? Would she not be able to end it yet again? How many times would she fail… She sighed, her whole body deflating at yet another failed attempted, but she couldn't very well drown herself in front of this stranger, could she? So she turned toward him with an unconvincing slight smile.

"Sorry, it was pointless anyway. I should get going, I have work tomorrow…" She realized her throat was getting tight and began back up the beach where her docs were. She did't need to have a break down in front of this man. She starting walking up but realized that her legs felt tingly and was finding it hard to walk. She had too much, this is why she never made them so big. She was so stupid!

Before her knees buckled under her weight, she felt a gloved hand wrap around her arm to steady her, then she felt her self being lifted up slightly with more support. When she turned her head she saw that he had wrapped her arm around his shoulders and his other arm was around her waist. If she had been sober she might have blushed, but she was just too out of it.

"I'm giving you a lift home, where do you live?"

It took her a second to process that, and while she would've refused at any other time, she could barely walk and her body was starting to become lethargic. This is what it did to her if she had too much, which is why she used it during her suicide attempt, but now that she hadn't gone through it, the drug was taking affect and she did not like it. her thoughts were starting to come in too fast and she could feel herself starting to grin. this was not good, not now…

"You going to answer me, shorty?" He chuckled, she nodded awkwardly to him, "Yeah, sorry… Um, I live close by, just down the beach a ways…" She said in a dazed voice. God, she was such a lightweight. She hadn't had this much since the first time she smoked. She had been invited to her cousins friends party at Lake Tahoe and the only people she knew was a stoner from her school and he offered her a joint and she took it and went over board. She must've passed out after because she woke up covered in packed sand, looking around she had seen another guy with only his head sticking out of the sand. She had promised herself never to smoke that much again.

Now look at her, another failed attempted, high as a damn kite, some guy with a dyed mullet is supporting her impaired form, and now she was giggling. Probably because of his hair. Not that it didn't look good, she already confirmed it did, but it was just funny, ya know? But weren't mullets popular? What was so popular about them? Who even made them trendy? Probably a country singer of some sort. Was that rude to think?

Wow. She was baked.
Upon realizing that, she could see that they were off the beach and on the side of the road, approaching a motorbike. Had she been that out of it to not even realize that they were not on the beach anymore? And was she going to have to ride on that? She had never ride on one before…

"I know you've probably never ridden on a motorbike before, but I'll need you to hold on tight, okay?" He looked at her seriously to make sure she knew that she needed to hold on it. She nodded. Maybe a little too much, but that only seemed to amuse him.

This will be so embarrassing when she wakes up tomorrow.

"He made sure to keep his hand around her arm, to keep her steady, and mounted his bike. He guided her onto his bike and took her hands to guide her arms around his waist. Unconsciously she lays her head on his back, not being able to keep her head up any longer. She doesn't see his smirk. He starts the bike up, feeling her entire body vibrate, feels oddly comforting. Then they are off.

Slowly her mind starts to drift at her situation. She was really high, this man had shown up and ruined her suicide attempt, and was now driving her on a motorbike because she was too far gone… I mean that couldn't be normal, right? Then again this was also Santa Carla, and that also reminded her that she was again with a strange man who just appeared… Yet she trusted him? Or was just that because she was high? She didn't know. For all she knew he could be the reasons for all the missing posters, and she'd be another addition to the ever growing numbers. But then again, would it matter? She didn't want to live anyway. Maybe he'd be doing her a favor.

"Hey, is one of these your place?" She heard his low voice in her hair.

Snapping out of her daze, she realized that the engine was killed and that they were in front of a stream of small studio homes lining down the beach. They were all similar in appearance aside from paint. She lifted her head off of the strangers back and looked for darkest painted home. After a minute of finally getting her vision to focus properly, she spotted the maroon painted house.
"Right there." She hoped she pointed at her house.

Getting off the bike should have been much more difficult and awkward, but somehow it wasn't, it was strange, but then again it might have been and she was too fucked up to notice. Either way he had again supported her until they were in front of her door. Putting her hand on the door handle, she was was relieved it was unlocked and that she didn't have to dig for her key in her sweater. She looked back at him for a long moment, then smiled.

"Thank you."

She didn't wait for him to say anything and merely went inside, sluggishly pulled off her boots, grabbed her comforter and pulled it around her, immediately letting sleep and the haze take her.

Her last thought was that she didn't get his name and she didn't give hers.

…

Four figures stood outside of the sleeping young woman's house.

"You let her go." A deep voice stated.

A pause.

"Why?"

A sigh.

"I felt no urge to kill her. I've never felt that." A snort then followed "Which is ironic considering she wants to die."

The other voice raised a brow.

"Will you talk to Max?"

A thoughtful look.

"Perhaps."