Prologue
"Slow days have passed that make a year,
Slow hours that make a day,
Since I could take my first dear love
And kiss him the old way;
Yet the green leaves touch me on the cheek,
Dear Christ, this month of May."
A Year and a Day
Elizabeth Siddal
The night was cold on the streets of Portland. The full moon was hiding behind the orange clouds while a drizzle fell down, not strong enough to make the few passersby of the small city use an umbrella, but still making Ana's clothes slightly wet. She hugged her body, trying to keep herself warm through the chilly wind and the cold rain, realizing that it was an unsuccessful attempt. Sighing, she cursed at herself for not listening to her mother when she told her to not wear a skirt with only tights underneath, because the weather forecast had said that the night would be cold.
Now she was shaking like a leaf, feeling her legs freezing without the proper protection a pair of pants would bring. All of that because she wanted to show herself to Jeff, the cute guy from the bar that she had had a crush on for ages, only to see him flirting with another girl, who, by the way, was wearing pants.
Ridiculous! She thought, kicking herself for being so stupid. Course he wouldn't want anything to do with me.
Sighing, she quickened her pace in order to get to the subway station faster. It was already 2 A.M., and her mother had already called four times to say her father was pissed she hadn't come home yet. Now, not only she saw the man she wanted with another girl, she was also going to get her ass whooped by her parents when she got home.
The night couldn't get better.
While she was sighing, feeling sorry for herself and shaking, she didn't realize she was being followed. Her mind was so far off in the moment, that she didn't see the bulky man following her footsteps ever since she left the bar she had been with her friends. The man, though, had noticed her the second she put her foot outside, her good looks attracting him instantly. He had also seen that she was all alone, no friends accompanying her or anything; smirking to himself, he put his hood lower to cover his face, and started walking right after her.
He saw her hugging her body, probably cold with that tiny little skirt she was wearing. He could see her long legs, feeling something stir inside of him imagining them spread open. His eyes sparkled, a thousand different thoughts crossing his mind, endless possibilities for what he wanted to do with that little girl walking around the streets at that time of the night.
He started walking faster, the need to get her growing by the second, his hands twitching inside his jacket pockets. It was around an especially dark corner that he finally grabbed her, putting his big, sweaty hand over her mouth, preventing her from yelling and attracting unnecessary attention. Her blue eyes shot to his face, wide as saucers while her heart started bumping loudly, fear crashing in her bones when she realized that she didn't know that man. She struggled, though it was in vain, for he was stronger than she was. His huge arm surrounded her waist, his hand still on her mouth, while he raised her from the floor and started walking to a close by alley.
The streets were so empty at that time of the night that not a human soul was able to hear the girl squeaking from behind the man's hand, or the sound of her legs kicking wildly, nor when he bumped her head so she would pass out, making it impossible for her to run away. Her body fell heavy, her lids closing, making one lone tear fall on her pale cheek. He threw her body, not caring if her head would bump on the cold floor, and came over her.
That night, Ana Richardson would have met the most terrible fate a woman could ever face in her life. She would, if it weren't for a dark figure that happened to be out that same evening, looking for something interesting to do out of staying in the flat she had been sharing with her friends for the last year.
Frida was tired of listening to Charlotte and Peter's lovemaking; the couple often would stay the entire night loving each other, not really caring about her presence in the room next door, or about the fact that she could hear everything, even if she didn't want to. For that reason, she was forced to leave the flat, deciding to roam around the cold and dark streets of St. Johns, Portland. Because of the time, the streets were basically empty, which made her totally bored. That was the loss of living in a small town. Everybody went to bed early, and those who didn't would hide themselves inside bars or night clubs, and she preferred to be away from those just in case. She was proud to say that after so many years, she had a good control over her instincts, but she wouldn't test it by going to a closed place packed with people.
Well, with nothing else to do, she decided to just walk around, feeling the drizzle wetting her hair and face, the cold wind blowing and the nice, fresh smell of nature that came with it. Her mind was peaceful; her thirst was subdued since she had already hunted the week before, so all was good and nice, and she just wanted to enjoy a cool evening. That's it.
However, like always in her life, something just had to happen. This time, it was the sound of two fast beating hearts; they were beating so fast that Frida wondered if their owners were running around or having sex in the middle of the street. Shrugging, she continued on her way deciding not to pay attention to the humans having some sort of heavy exercise. However, her hearing caught another sound that made her change her course. It was so soft and subtle that a normal person wouldn't have been able to hear.
Frida wasn't normal, though. In fact, she was far from being normal. Her enhanced hearing, inhuman strength, speed, and big, burgundy eyes that could see as much as an eagle, were able to catch the moment this big, burly man carried a limp girl on his arms, entering what she supposed to be a dark alley. Upon seeing it, Frida took a deep sniff, bringing in the air the smell of sweat, cheap perfume and body lotion. What caught her attention, though, was the sweat smell of blood.
Instantly, though she was not thirsty, her throat constricted, burning, the need to go after that blood making her feet move on their own accord. In a matter of seconds she was in the alley, silently watching as the man opened his pants, ready to do something terrible to the girl lying limply on the floor, passed out and hurt. The smell of blood was coming directly from her. Frida forgot about it, however, feeling such hatred and rage for what the man was about to do that the sweet scent was left in the back of her mind. She would worry about it later.
A guttural sound came out of her, something that made the man stop what he was doing and look behind him, not expecting to see a girl about seventeen years old staring at him like she wanted to take his head off. He had dark eyes, a disgusting face that made Frida imagine all the ways she could use to finish his obnoxious existence.
She didn't let he say anything, though his mouth opened for the briefest of the moments; oh no. She wouldn't hear his voice. Her ice cold hand grabbed his neck so fast that he never saw it coming. For a person of her size, not more than 5'5 feet, it would've been impossible for her to raise a man of his size from the floor. His eyes were wide as saucers, and she saw the fear there before she simply turned his head and sank her teeth on his jugular. Unfortunately, his blood was delicious, warm and sweet, and she drank him dry while he squirmed and tried to punch her, with no success. When she was finished, she left his body fall on the floor like a bag of potatoes, cleaning her lips with the sleeve of her jacket.
It was inevitable to feel a bit good about herself at that moment; first because she just ate her "dinner", second because she had killed a vile man, who surely would have continued to assault girls walking around at night.
Didn't expect to be killed by one, for sure. She smiled, kicking the dead body with the heel of her boot.
She hated that kind of man. It was because of one of them that she became who she was.
Shaking her head, she looked back at the girl on the floor, feeling sorry for her; although the man hadn't had the chance to actually touch her, she still had to face the terrible of experience of what could've happened, which certainly would traumatize her. It was a pity, since she was really young.
Listening to the girl's soft heartbeat, she decided that she would help her. She took her body on her arms with no problem, thinking about dropping her off at the hospital. She tried very hard not to focus on the smell of the girl's blood, coming from the back of her head. In a flash, she crossed the town, thanking the sky that nobody was roaming on the streets, and arrived at the white building five minutes later. Gently, she put the girl on a bench in front of the hospital, praying that someone would find her soon enough. It'd be terrible saving the girl from a horrific fate only for her to die frozen on a bench.
Taking one last look at the lithe body, she left, going back to the alley in order to dispose of the man's body.
That night certainly didn't end the way she thought it would.
