My name is Remilia Scarlet. I don't know my exact age (living over five hundred years wears on a woman, and I lose track), but I do know that I am a vampire.

I was born many years ago in foggy London. Five years later, my sister Flandre was born. I was named after my aunt Milia, and Flandre was named after the province in Belgium, Flanders. I don't remember much about her birth or those first few years, and for this I apologize, for I know there must be questions of my exact origin.

My mother died of typhoid three years after Flandre was born, and we were all devastated. I wonder sometimes if Flandre realized fully what had happened; now she barely remembers Mother. It is sad, for she was a wonderful, lively woman, but not strong enough to fight the typhoid. It almost took me as well, but I lived on, as did Flandre, obviously. My father came down with a fever soon after, but he left us with our aunt Milia for a few weeks as he traveled to the clean air of France to heal.

Now I'll talk about my aunt Milia. She was a wonderful woman, and took the role of mother after my birthmother passed. Sometimes I wonder if my father fell in love with her with no other person to hold onto. Flandre and I were so young, he must have been lonely.

My father was a tall, robust man with a mustache. He always wore an old bowler hat and the same brown suit. He owned a series of shops and thus we were quite well-off. You could even call us upper class. There was always food on the table and clothes on our back, and once his first shop became successful, our food became richer and our clothes became finer. We were never in want or need of anything.

Soon Milia caught the fever that had been raging in our fine foggy city and died. I was eleven at the time, Flandre, six. This time we were both old enough to realize what had happened and we were as crushed as Father was. Now and then I wonder… would things have turned out the same way if she hadn't have died?

Father took to drinking quickly after Milia died. He was never violent with us, but he was sad and angry, and we often found him unconscious at the dinner table after a night of alcohol. He began to bring home women from the bordello, and Flandre and I became more and more lonely. We were drawn to each other and became each other's only friend. For awhile, we were happy, or as close to happy as we could get.

A new man moved to our street after a few years, and my time came. I was sixteen, a young woman, afraid that the fever would finally take me. Nonetheless I tried to remain positive and I often visited the new man, whose name was Vladimir and who was from a land far away called Transylvania.

Vladimir was a nice man of perhaps twenty-or-so. He became a surrogate father for me, as my own father grew further and further apart from Flandre and I. Flandre often asked to come with me on my visits to Vladimir, but I was fiercely protective of my friendship with him. She never ended up seeing him before he left.

For his last few months in London he and I became very close. Sometimes I think I was in love with him, and I like to fancy he was in love with me, too. Our first kiss was in the dark safety of his parlor, hours after my curfew. I don't remember ever being so happy.

He always said he wanted to be with me forever. One night, he told me of a way we could be together forever. I didn't ask any questions: I just did as I was told, for I would have done anything for Vladimir. He knelt me down before him and bit my neck.

There is some strange ecstasy in becoming a vampire. All you see if color, and it seems as if the world before vampirism was all in black and white in comparison. Things became sharper, more focused, and I felt like I could do anything.

He told me that my transition would be slow, and quite possibly painful, but that he would help me through it. I would need to get out of London quickly, and he told me he would take me away to live with him in Transylvania soon, where we would be married. I couldn't wait, and in my excitement, I made the mistake of telling my sister of our plans.

She told Father.

Father was furious, as any father would be. He told the city lies, that Vladimir had seduced me, threatened me, tried to rape and kill me. No one would listen to my pleas, and one day it became too much and I rushed to Vladimir's mansion in the darkness of midnight, ready to leave right then. I could not find him; instead, I found a note. I still have it, and I will write it down here:

"My dearest Remi -- I must take my leave. As a precaution I won't say where I am in this note, but I believe you will find me. I am sorry I promised so many things that I could not fulfill, but someday when we meet again we will pick up where we left off.

"Please, don't mourn for me. I am still alive and well, just not with you. I write this note not only to tell you this, but to teach you a few tricks.

"As the creature you are now, you will soon be unable to enter the sunlight. Always carry a parasol with you and wear a long dress and long sleeves, just in case. You may already have noticed a thirst for something you have not yet experienced: that is a thirst for blood. I suggest you start small and take from unneeded beggars or animals. Soon you will work up to more and your meals will only taste better.

"Try not to cause trouble, my Remi. Don't cause any more vampires unless they are as willing as you were. Try to be happy, and be positive, and soon we will meet again."

It stops there. I remember crying for hours. Even now I tear up a little to read it.

Father soon died of consumption. I felt angry, defeated, alone. Flandre had finally come down with the fever and I knew I would soon have no one.

"Flan," I asked her one morning. "I have to tell you something, but it's a secret."

"Mmkay," she hummed, moving back and forth on the rocking chair. Ever since Father died, she said little.

"Flan, I'm a vampire," I said bluntly.

She nodded. "Mmkay."

"I'll live forever."

"Neato."

"Flan, do you understand?" I pressed, already frustrated.

"Yes."

"Flan!" I cried, taking her shoulders and shaking her. "I'm immortal! It means I'll never die, no matter what. Please, Flan, listen. You're dying, Flan. I can stop it, but I need your permission to do it. Please, Flan. Without you I really am alone."

She finally looked up at me, her blue eyes dull. Slowly she nodded and I sat back on my ottoman with a sigh.

"Okay, Flan. I need you to listen to me." I waited for an answer and received silence. Heaving an exasperated sigh I took her shoulders again and brought her into a hug. My face already buried into the crook of her neck, I opened my mouth and bit down.

It was my first taste of blood, and it was from an aristocrat like my sister, making the taste rich and dark and wonderful. When I drank all I could (which wasn't much) I backed away, feeling tears emerge in my eyes to see my sister's ghostly pallor.

Flandre, however, looked amazed at what had just happened. Her eyes scanned the room around her, examining her newly-colored surroundings, and as she blinked I saw her deep blue eyes slowly transition into a vicious red. She was a vampire then, just as I was.