Frederick's point of view

She was barely sixteen when they brought her here, but she looked at least three years younger.

She was a tiny little thing. So quiet, so still. Nothing seemed to phase her. Not even her parents dumping her in an asylum.

They said it wasn't proper for a family like theirs to own such a strange, abnormal child. Apparently she didn't fit in with the company, not like Cynthia, the younger daughter.

In the asylum she was ignored, like many of the other patients.

They shaved her head to prevent her brain overheating. Superstitious nonsense. But, then again, who am I to scoff at ideas like this. If the people at the asylum knew what I really was…

But my, she was a pretty little thing. So small we didn't have a gown to fit her, she was swathed in a gown that would have fit a grown man. Not that she ever complained.

She rarely spoke. Being the only girl in an asylum of fully grown men would do that to a lady.

Or maybe it was her upbringing, when she spoke she always was constantly berated for lies and insanity.

Her parents would tell us nothing of her visions. And neither would Mary. Poor little thing, after being ridiculed about what she believed to see, she simply stopped talking about it.

One day, she surprised me on the early morning rounds

"Hello Frederick."

"Hello Mary."

"Frederick…when my mother rings this afternoon, tell her I say no."

"I'm sorry Mary…I don't understand."

"Just tell her I say no."

And with that she skulked away to the corner of her room, standing on tip-toes in an attempt to peer out of the tiny barred window.

I thought a lot about the little girl for the remainder of the morning. I knew that I shouldn't, she was young, and I was old. She was beautiful and I was crumpled. She was human and I was not.

I had been bitten when I was fifty two. I was desperately hoping for death, but what I got instead was worse, immortality.

I fought against myself for years, trying to kill myself, end what I had become. But to no avail.

Working at the asylum made it easy for me to feed. No-body would miss the maniacs and eccentrics that lived here. Many of them tried to kill themselves anyway.

But she, Mary, was different. Her blood appealed to me, of course it did, but she was alone in the world. Her family shunned her and all but ignored her, aside from the rare occasion when they called to check up on her.

I felt a paternal pull toward her, I felt the desire to protect her, to look after her, until she was 'well' enough to go home.

I was filing papers, killing time before taking the patients their lunch when the phone rang shrilly.

"Hello. This is Mrs Mary Brandon. I am the mother of Mary Brandon."

"Hello Mrs Brandon."

This startled me a bit, had Mary predicted this? Or was it just a lucky guess.

"I am ringing to inform you that shortly, our family will be moving to Washington. We need to know if Mary wishes to move with us."

"You'll take her with you?"

"Yes, there is an excellent facility in the outskirts of the town that would look after her."

I sighed quietly, her parents didn't plan on freeing her from this then.

"I'll have to ask her."

As I marched down the corridor to Mary's cell our earlier conversation echoed in my ears, "Frederick…when my mother rings this afternoon, tell her I say no." I could hear her pacing behind the door as I opened it. She looked up at me as I opened the door.

"I told you to tell her no."