Marshall POV
985 years ago
I laid on my bed, strumming the axe-bass lazily. The phone by my bed rang but I didn't answer; it was probably just Ashley again. I licked my lips through habit. I took another ragged breath. I stopped strumming. I gently stroked the raised scars on my arm. I sighed. Where was he? I tried to kill myself countless ways. Being completely drained off blood by a hungry vampire is the only way left. A door opened downstairs. Then he was in my room, standing over me, smiling. I felt a sharp pain in my neck. Then there was darkness.

Now
Waking up isn't any easier. You would think that having over 1000 years to practice getting out of bed it wouldn't be such a drag. But it is. I pull my jeans a loose shirt and shoes. I grab my bass and am almost out of the door when I remember my arms. I sigh and float back upstairs. I pull open a draw and find the white powder I use to hide the rows of scars along my arms. Making a mental note to buy more jumpers, I grab a jacket for good measure then fly out of the house, a stolen umbrella shading my head and hands from the sun.