June 15, 1670
Breathe in. Breathe out. It seems like one never-ending vicious cycle. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Don't breathe in… I can't. It feels as though I'm being choked. The loss of air consumes me, but I don't scream. It won't help. It won't relieve the pain. So I don't breathe anymore. It's a waste of time. They say time heals everything. My father's been gone for seven years, yet the wound on my heart gets worse each day. But I won't admit it to anyone. Not even Zack. He won't understand. No one will. I'm just thirteen, what do I know of real pain? I KNOW. And I HATE it.
August 19, 1672
Nothing. I feel absolutely nothing. Now you might think, "Oh no, that can't be true. Everyone feels." But I don't. Not anymore. I feel nothing while reading my father's journals. I feel nothing as I watch my mother tell me how ugly I am. I feel nothing as I watch this drunk guy come over to me. I feel nothing as he asks me if he could buy me a drink. I feel nothing as we leave the pub. I feel nothing as we walk into a crummy hotel room. I feel nothing as he starts drunkenly taking my clothes off. I feel nothing as his filthy hands roam my body. I feel nothing as he has his way with me. I feel nothing as I gather my clothes and make my way out of the room. I feel nothing as I take the long walk to my house. Absolutely nothing. It's routine by now. Nothing matters. I'm already lost enough. Why not go a little crazier? In the end. It doesn't even matter.
Somewhere in 1674
I don't even know the date. I woke up this morning in God knows where. And I don't care. Ironic how that rhymes, though. It's as if my life has evolved into this poem. If you could call it that. It flows in its own way. A very dark way, but a way nonetheless. When I got home, I got another lecture from Zack. "Where have you been?" "Why do you smell like alcohol?" "Do you know how worried I've been?" It's all just words, Zack. Do you really mean them? If you did, prove it to me. Save me from myself. Because if you don't, no one else will. No one else cares enough. I'm even starting to lose faith in you. My own brother. What a joke I've become. Worthless.
September 19, 1674
What the hell was I thinking? These things I've been doing… They didn't help me. And sure as hell didn't help anyone else. I've been ruining my life these past few years. But thank God Zack spoke up. It's too late though. I'm losing this battle. I've been fighting the wrong war. And now I'm paying for it. It was just one giant mistake…
February 19, 1676
My birthday was ten days ago. It was okay. The same as always. Just Zack and I. Although it might have been the greatest birthday ever. Since it was my last one ever. I didn't die. Although it feels like it. We went to visit Father's grave. Zack and I. His empty grave. It was okay. I didn't feel anything really. I knew the grave was empty, so it didn't hold any meaning. Next thing I knew, a burning sensation spread through me. Then I heard Zack scream. It was agony. But I didn't scream like Zack. It wouldn't ease anything. It felt like I was being burned at the stake. An eternity of suffering for all the screwed up things I've done. Yet I still woke up. But I'm not the same. My heart beats faster than normal. I'm extremely fast and strong. Grandmother says we're vampires. Except we're still half-human. I have no bloodlust though, so how can we be vampires? I don't really care about that now. Zack and I have been turned into the very thing that killed our father. A disgusting monster. Zack seems to be embracing it. Grandmother is teaching him everything he needs to know. I'm avoiding them though. They think I'm just angry at what I've become. I'm not angry. I'm disgusted. I'm a seemingly perfect specimen now. But yet, I'm still broken.
My name is Elizabeth Cullen. And I'm broken.