Curiosity
Okay, so it has been nearly one-hundred years… I know that. And I hate myself for waiting so long; but I just need to know. Does he ever think of me? He'd play on my mind whenever I looked at someone who looked back at me knowingly. Whenever a person responded to a question I didn't ask out loud. Just simple things, like someone telling me the bus was running late and that I didn't miss it, after I had run breathlessly to the bus stop. I react strangely, and that catches people off guard. Humans; what would they know?
I had met him in Chicago, I was there on work and he—he was 'hunting'… I popped into the alleyway for a break – the cigarette and cigar smoke sickened me – and was attacked by a drunken, old pervert. That's the part when the dark-eyed, real-life batman had swooped in and saved me. I do use the term 'man' loosely; the guy would have been around my age, which was, and technically is, seventeen. I didn't know it at the time, and found it hard to believe when he told me; he was not batman, but a blood sucking vampire.
I'll admit it, I had snuck a shot of tequila (or two) when I was working behind the bar at Charlie's, but not even I, half-drunk, was going to believe that. In fact, I didn't. I laughed in his face and turned on my heel, leaving him in the dark alleyway alone. However, when I turned up at work the next night and found out that pervert was killed and his blood was sucked dry, I started something I shouldn't have: my search for the onyx-eyed male. I figured that if I was in danger, he'd come and save me.
So, I knocked-off early and went looking for some trouble. I wore my shortest skirt, highest heels and my lowest cut shirt with my favourite black push-up bra; if that wasn't trouble, I didn't know what was. Luckily for me, and the state of mind I was in, I found a man to lure seductively into an alleyway; unluckily for me, as a young woman, the man I lured was an undercover police man. Let's just say things didn't end well; unless you think well is ending up in a dirty, old cell that had been occupied by real prostitutes.
I found myself in jail until my family bailed me out, but there was a catch; my family was Alaska, and we weren't on speaking terms. Before, when I said I was in Chicago on work, I meant I ran away from my over-religious family to become an actress. I wasn't successful yet, but I was so sure I was going to make it. For the time being, though, my dream was on hold. I was being held for prostitution. That's when my knight in shining… leather… appeared at the barred window, offering me assistance if I would take it.
He was even more breath-taking when I got a good look at him. He did frighten me when he appeared out of no-where, but when I got over that, all I saw was his perfect porcelain complexion, perfect angular features and perfect bronze hair. He was, in a word, perfect; and that scared me more than anything. Why would a perfect man attack others and make it look like he's a vampire? Because surely, I thought, the cynic I was, he couldn't really be a vampire.
'That's because I am a vampire, genius.' He said as he smiled crookedly, adorably. However, tonight there was something different about this so-called vampire. 'Yes,' he had added, 'they're different… quite perceptive for a prostitute.' I didn't know whether to be relieved or angry … but then I seen his ghost-like hands reach up for the bars and the way his face stayed calm even as he pulled them out of the concrete wall. He then reached into the cell, took me by the hands and helped me carefully, gently, out of the sordid cell. Once I was out, we both stared for a minute; he hesitated… but he left, grinning like a child.
'Easy come, easy go,' I sighed; but his whole 'being' wracked my thoughts. I dreamt about him, for Christ's sake (my parents would ridicule me) and I hadn't dreamt since I was a child. Every time I heard a voice that sounded anything like his smug comments, my head would jerk up and, according to Star, a woman I worked with; my eyes would be 'full of hope'. I guess I was more curious than smitten with this killer who called himself a vampire, but I was on a search for the truth, and what I want, I get… generally.
The next night, which was a Tuesday if I remember rightly, I didn't go to work; instead I went incognito, wearing an old black trench coat, glasses and a headscarf, looking for Mr Vampire. I was eyed off by on-lookers, but didn't get to find the strange, mind-reading, beautiful man… which was very frustrating, thinking back on how many tips I usually got when I did work at that bar. I made it back to my cheap apartment, cursing to myself, threw my sunglasses with my keys on my dresser and pulled off my scarf.
Mr Vampire was right there.
'The window. Believe me now?' He smiled his crooked smile as he answered my unspoken question and asked me his. I shook my head and frowned at him, telling him any creep could crawl up a fire escape and into a window. I challenged him to do something vampire-like and took a step towards him. His nostrils flared and he stumbled backwards, shocking me. He looked confused, I turned to see if it was me he was staring so incredulously at, but when I looked again, he'd jumped out of the fourth-storey window. I ran at the window and look out of it; 'long gone…' I whispered.
That was the last time I seen him; my parents finally dragged me back to Alaska, where I became obsessed with the vampire legends and what-not. My parents burnt the books I borrowed about them, because they were 'unholy', but that didn't stop me from tracking down a coven. It took me less than a year. I was pretty proud of myself; looks like curiosity didn't kill the darn cat, it made it leave home for a second time. So, taking one bag, I made my way towards the coven of vampires, hoping again to meet my beautiful leather-clad hero.
All I found, however, was a woman named Victoria. A pretty red-head who told me she was looking for vampires too. So we joined forces; two heads are better than one and all that. The times were tough in the 1930's for women, and two travelling towards the woods together was… different, or rare for a better word. When we made it to the woods, she made her intentions clear. Waiting in an abandoned shed was an older man named James, Victoria's lover and... Fellow vampire. The plan was actually really well thought out; I had to give them credit.
Four days. Four days I was locked in that shed and four days it took me to fully convert. I had no way to get out; blood covered the walls, my blood. I scratched at the walls, punched them, charged full strength at them and finally fell to the floor, my body throbbing in pain. By the third day, I was motionless on the floor, the blood flowing through my veins sounding very attractive. The fourth day I was awoken by a bang at the door, and English accents called to see if there was anyone actually in the shed.
Their heartbeats were fast, as if they'd been running, which made me curious, more so than ever, and made getting up all the more appetizing. Ever since I placed my hand on the handle of the door, my life has changed. It's become so much better, everything is so much easier; what was once difficult to do is now second nature. On the other hand, unless you don't think that killing people and drinking their blood is intolerable and disgusting, life is very difficult. I hate the fact that I have to live forever. It's not that bloody great. Pun-intended.
To this day, 2008, I've been running from Victoria and James. Turns out I got out of the shed too early and they wanted me to join them. Yeah, right. Not this century and not one any time soon. I haven't found my leather-clad knight, either. Y'know, if I hadn't met him, I wouldn't have been so set on finding out if vampires even existed… But I could also be dead, or in jail for prostitution… Ha, I guess it was my fault for wanting to be an actress anyway. However, even after everything, I am curious…
Does he ever think of me?