Forgotten.

I've been forgotten about. Nobody cares anymore. It's as if the day that I just didn't turn up anywhere, people stopped thinking about Michael Glass. Nobody considered that there may be something wrong, or that I could have been killed… they just got on with their lives.

The new dude, I don't know his name, followed me here after my gig in Common Grounds. The café is relatively new, the first proper place where humans are able to go after dark, although it's still risky. It's one of the few places in this town where humans and vampires are… well, they're still not equals but I would say they're a damn sight closer to that than normal.

But no… he came here and I never considered the fact that vampires can't get into houses without an invite. The conversation we had was so day to day, it seemed as if a vampire couldn't be as hip as he was. He knew everything about music, seemed interested in the same things as me even though he was about 12 or so years older, probably at least thirty. I didn't think abut the advice my parents gave me before they left town: don't let someone you don't know in… ever.

I forgot it all, and just invited him in. I was like, "Hey, man, don't stay out there – it's dangerous. Come on in and tell me more about Beyoncé."

And that was all he needed.

He followed me across the room and intercepted me on this very rug, grabbing me with inhuman strength. I realised, as I saw his fangs, I had made a dreadful mistake and tried to rescind my invitation. But by then… he already had his fangs in my neck and was draining the life away from me, taking me from this earth.

I fought to cling on: people had survived a vampire 'draining' – perhaps I could have done the same. But I began to fade until, on the very edge, he stopped. He laid me down on the rug and proceeded to give me his blood, trying to make me into what he was… but he failed.

Now, I'm this half thing – a ghost during the day, myself at night. But I can deal with this; I can cope, just about, with not being one thing and being able to leave the house, living in a limbo between life and death.

The thing I can't cope with is that nobody comes here anymore. Nobody tries to come by during the day and be ignored, and they don't come at night. Not even Sam, my Grandad, who I hurt so badly… he hasn't been to try and fix things up.

Now, as I can't leave or make money, the phone is about to be cut off. I keep getting threatening letters from the electric company and the gas one, not to mention the blood bank, to tell me that I owe them one hell of a lot. You don't know how much I want to ring my Grandad up and tell him everything, to beg for help, but I can't. He has his own problems and he doesn't need mine. He probably doesn't really love me; he only thinks he should do because we're family. After all, he doesn't really even know me. I can't burden him with my problems… that wouldn't be fair.

But I'm going under. I don't think I can cope with this much more. Soon I will have no means to communicate, not that anyone rings me anyway. Even my own family don't bother with me anymore. Mum and Dad left town and have rang me three times in the four months they have gone; Sam is busy doing his own thing and doesn't seem bothered.

It's painful being forgotten. It really is.

Especially when you're the forgotten one.

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Vicky xx