The smell of his blood filled my lungs with lust and hunger. Just one bite and I would be satisfied. But I knew it was never that simple because after one taste I'd want more. I would need more. He looked at me with concern written all over his face. Though he had no idea of what I truly wanted to do to him, he still asked if there was anything he could do for me. Give me your blood, I thought. The sweet taste of his blood in my mouth was almost to die for, literally. Part of me was disgusted with this desire for blood; most of me though wanted more.
I was born in January 9, 1874 in a small town right outside of London, England. My mother died in the process of my birth and as for my father, well he was no where to be found. It was my dear Aunt Carla that decided to raise me as her own, even though I knew right away she wasn't my real mother. She was a petite woman of maybe 5'1" with a well rounded figure. People would call her an 'hourglass' due to the fact her waist was a mere 15" round and her chest and bottom were twice that and then some. She also had long brown-blonde hair that she wore up everyday. With her skin a fair light shade her midnight blue eyes were able to pop for all to see. Though she was never married, many had tried. Even with me by her side it never stopped the request from men she never knew. I was another story.
By the time I was 17 years old I was 5'5" and not as shaped as my aunt. I would say I was thin but, that was an understatement. My aunt always got furious with my eating habits, and not because I ate too little, it was because I ate too much she would claim. My skin was almost transparent and my eyes were a light grey instead of a blue like my aunts. As for my hair it wasn't as long as my aunts but it appeared longer due to the fact I enjoyed my hair straight down. Most people didn't even know we were related which I still question myself.
Growing up was lavishing though. My aunt owned the largest estate within a 15 mile radius. How she was able to afford it all was beyond me and the rest of the town. She wasn't a foul lady like most would expect her to be, but she was strange in a way. She spent most of her daytime in her studio painting portraits of me and though I didn't mind, it still left me confused about her reasoning.
When I wasn't being her model she allowed me to ride Prince, her prized thoroughbred stallion, across the lands forest. Prince was the same age as I was and born the same day. This is why we were so close I believe but, I was never sure. I would run him for hours upon hours; sometimes we even reached a 5 hour ride. I never pushed him hard though, most of the trails and the pace were of his choice. Prince was my best friend and he stayed that way until the day he died, which was our 21st birthday.
Some may call it ironic but I cleared it off as just the cycle of life. I spent another year with my aunt until she disappeared one night. No one knew anything about where she was. Some thought one of her admires kidnapped her, others said she ran away. As for me, I thought she was murdered. Unfortunately, I still do not know what happened to her, nor has her body ever been found.