Everything was muffled under the constant beat. It was almost all consuming; the sight, the smell, the beat … they were constant reminders that fed on her control. It had been almost fifty years, but the scent of blood was sweet and more tempting than any apple.
Alice didn't need to turn around to know the waitress was coming towards her. She was an elderly woman with kind eyes surrounded by crow's feet; a mouth surrounded by laugh lines. She had clearly lived a happy life, a fulfilled life and by Alice's fangs she could grant her a peaceful death. Her pulse throbbed in that constant beat.
'Did your coffee get cold, dear? Would you like me to heat it up?' Alice's stare moved from the waitress' pulse to her lips as she began speaking, and then to the untouched coffee in the cracked ceramic mug she was gripping with both hands. It hadn't been cracked when she first got it. The waitress was staring at her. Alice nodded slowly, not daring to speak in case she breathed in the sweet scent that surrounded her. 'What about something to eat, honey? You've been sitting here a while and you're far too skinny.' Alice didn't deserve her kindness – but the gentleness of the waitress made her wonder if her own mother had cared for her like that. Did she ever had a mother? The waitress started speaking again, sounding worried. 'Pie.' Alice choked out, and the sickly sweet smell of blood consumed her.
She wanted to leave – needed to for their safety. She was selfish though; to leave was to condemn herself to continue her life of solitude and Jasper to –
No – she couldn't leave. Things were exactly as she saw in her first vision. The paper sat in front of her, dated November 5th 1948. The pie the waitress brought her was made with winterberries and the coffee was rapidly cooling in the cold air that circulated the diner. This was meant to be.
Except that it wasn't. Her coffee cooled, the waitress refilled it time and time again. After pretending to eat her pie, it was replaced with dinner – and then dessert. The door of the diner opened and closed countless times. Her face lit up at first, thinking it was him – but it never was. Excitement faded to desperation and finally realisation.
He wasn't coming.