Prologue:

I don't know why I've decided to write my story down. Maybe it's because I'm tired of hiding in the shadows; tired of living in secrecy, but where are my manners? My name is Nezkith de Kertyl and I am a vampire. Go ahead and laugh, most people do. They don't know, and I don't expect you any of you to understand either, what it's like. I was born this way, but I wish I wasn't. Enough whining though, I'm starting to annoy myself.

Now, before we get too ahead of ourselves, maybe I should dispel any myths about my kind. We can walk out into the sun, despite what movies say. We don't burst into flame or run around shrieking, but the sun does drain us of energy. It's like being extremely tired but you can't seem to get to sleep. As for garlic and crosses, well, I'm fond of both. I happpen to wear a cross wherever I go and nothing is better than fresh baked garlic bread, still steaming from the oven. Oh, and silver? Don't make me laugh. The cross I mentioned is made of solid silver. I got it the day I turned sixteen in my vampiric life.

Anyways, I think that covers everything...I for those of you who want to know what I look like, just incase we bump into each other somewhere down a dark alley. Heh, that would make for an interesting evening. Back on topic, though. I'm roughly six feet tall and, depending on the weather, I have faded blue eyes. To top off my appearance (no pun intended), I have grayish brown hair. I wear sunglasses most of the time, not because of the sun, but they tend to make me look like a normal human. Now that we've got that out of the way, on to my tale. It all began with me stepping into a little diner run by a vampire, and best friend, Sam...~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter One: Discovery and A Girl

It was around midnight when I stepped into that little diner. The smell of coffee, probably cold, and human blood washed over me as I sat down at the bar. the weight of the previous day hit me all at once. Sam, the cook and owner, walked up to me and leaned over, resting his elbows on the counter top.

"Nezzy, m'boy, what's bothrin' ya t'day?" he asked in his rugged and heavily Scotish accented voice. "Don' tell me ya havin' fed t'day?"

"Me, not feed?" I chuckled. "Never gonna happen. I'm just tired from tonight's performance." I sighed and ran my hand through my hair.

Sam just shook his head. "Still a strugglin' musician, huh? Why don' ya jus' use yer influences to get yerself ahead in the game, eh? It would be easier for ya and a hell of a lot less tiring. Or, ya could continue with the police business. That seems to be workin' for ya."

"Yeah, maybe...I don't," I leaned back in my seat. "I just don't want to take the easy way out...Besides, being a cop is boring the bloody hell out of me. The same ol' humdrum every night..." I suddenly felt a sense of tension and nervousness coming from a booth behind me. "Sam, could you get me a cup of the usual?"

He chortled and went to the back. I turned around to see where the feelings were coming from and there she was. The girl who made me question everything I am and start writing this book. But there she sat, with her slightly curled brown hair and beautiful hazel eyes, staring outside, her head against the window pane. I knw I should've just left things alone, but I couldn't. I got up and carried myself over to her booth and sat down across from her. She glanced at me and then continued to gaze out into the night.

"Leave me alone," she sighed. "I just want to be by myself..." As she spoke her breath fogged the window.

"I don't mean to pry, but I can tell something is bothering you," I replied. Sam walked by and placed my cup down on the table. "Thanks, Sam." I turned back to her as I took a sip. "As an officer of the law, it is my duty to know of any wrong doings. Now tell me, what has got you so upset?"

She angled her head towards me and sighed again. "You wouldn't understand. You'd probably think I'm crazy."I couldn't help but let out a small laugh. I set my cup back on the table and rest my head in my hand. "Well, how 'bout we start of slow then. My name is Nezkith de Kertyl. And you are?"

"I'm...Eryika Tallon, she replied, lifting her head from the window. As she did, the first thing that was noticeable was her fragility. Not just her normal human fragility, but more of an aura that was something familiar to me , but seemed beyond my reach. And for me that's saying alot.

"Erica, why would anyone be so glum on such a glorious day, or in this case, night?" I just had to ask her.

"It's Eryika, pronounced ear-ee-kha. Not Erica," she said wearily, as though she were tired of explaining the pronunciation of her gorgeous name to simple idiots like me. as she turned, I also noticed her skin, pale as milk, creamy as whipping cream, but there were also hideous scars that she didn't even try to hide. It was as though she were tired of trying to be something she could never be again, at least in her mind's eye.

Did I also mention I have the uncanny ability to just know what people think of themselves? I can't read minds, no, but more along the lines of reading your body language. Hers simply said she didn't care anymore; that she just wanted to give up on everything. The more I observed her, the more I almost felt a kindred spirit to her. As though she were my female counterpart that I hadn't seen in more tan 500 years. Not my companion, but a part of myself that I had given up because the human emotions took more time to emote than I felt were really necessary, so I mainly stuck to my own kind. A tragic story, but more on that later. Perhaps if I do decide to tell you about her, you may need a box of tissues to keep your eyes eyes dry. But, I digress forward in time, I turned to the young lady. And she is a lady indeed. She has the breeding of an aristocratic family. I find myself staring at her and look down at my drink, the wine staining the sides of the glass.

"I don't know why," she said, leaning back in her seat, "but I feel as if I can trust you. I'm...I'm running away. I can't take my home life anymore. Everyone, no, everything is turning to shit. I need to get away from it all."

I looked back up to her with a puzzled expression. "Things can't be all that bad, can they?" I down my cup and signal to Sam to bring me another cup. "Besides, take a look at yourself. You're beautiful; you should be on top of the world."

She glared at me from across the table. "Beautiful!? take a look at me!" she pointed to the scars on her face. "Every time I look in the mirror, I see what I am, a freak!" She dropped her gave. "I can't stand being a..." She cut short as Sam walked up with another cup and removed the old one. As he walked back to the counter, Eryika sighed once more and went back to looking out the window. "You wouldn't understand..."

I gently grabbed my cup and brought it to my lips. "C'mon, try me. I've been around the block a few times..." I had to stop and laugh at myself, "...a few too many times."

She leaned on the table and took a deep breath. "Where to begin?"

"How 'bout the beginning?" I couldn't help it.

She smiled sarcastically at him. "Dick. I was born into a high class family, an aristocratic one, if you will, and thought everything was perfect. We had everything you could imagine. The stereotypical farm in the countryside, the mansion set back into the woods; we had it all. A picture perfect family is what you would have seen if you were there. Like I said, it was perfect."

Again I let my mouth run. "Three times now, m'dear."

"You know what? You can just go to hell then. Here I am, trying to get something off my chest and you're being a total ass about it," she fumed, crossing her arms.

"I'm sorry. I promise not to interrupt again." I raised up my first three fingers. "Scout's honor."


Mkay! First chapter up! My gramer kinda sucks, but hey, I'm doing the best I can.

I hope you enjoy it! Please send me some reviews!