Hey everyone! I told you I was working on chapter two and here it is! I do hope you enjoy, and I'm sorry if it moves a little slow, it will - hopefully - speed up in either the next chapter or the forth one.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Little Vampire or any of the characters in it, I only own Rebekah Nyx Nightingale (yes she has a name now)
Chapter 2: I'm Too Young to be an Adult
The plane ride across the Atlantic was fourteen hours of nothingness. I didn't move except to go to the restroom or when I did it subconsciously in my sleep. It was boring and I could have done without it. Everything was a blur and all the events meshed together. In my sixteen years – well almost sixteen years – of life, it was only a speck, the size of the tip of a sharpened pencil. The only thing I truly remember is how anxious I was about a letter my mom had written to me years ago and had secured away in a safety deposit box. The child service woman had given it to me right before I boarded the plane, and I placed it into my carry on.
When the plane had landed and the stewardess announced we were in Glasgow, and how we should enjoy our time, I almost laughed. How in the world was I supposed to enjoy my time here? Yes, I've always wanted to travel, and I have heard how beautiful Scotland is, but I never wanted to see it due to my current situation. With awkward movements, I managed to get out of my seat – trying not to get in anyone else's way as everyone stood up at once – and get to the overhead compartment above me. I pulled out my bag, a tie-dyed shoulder bag. All my suitcases had been tie-dyed for the very reason of traveling. It made my things so much easier to find if they were so unique.
With my bag slung over my body, I pushed and shoved, and was pushed and shoved back, towards the exit. A stewardess meets me at the door and smiles such a fake smile I had to give her a small one in return. A sad one. One that showed just how much I felt sorry for someone having a job where they have to smile no matter what. I continued on pass her and out of the plane.
I went pass everyone meeting with loved ones and family. I knew my Uncle wasn't going to be waiting in the terminal, he had told me this when we were last in contact. He would be outside. He said it was hard to miss him. That thought alone unnerved me. What did he look like? Actually, I don't want to think about that. I pushed all of those thoughts to the back of my mind as I went to claim my bags. Like I had stated previously, my luggage was the easiest to find, even my black tenor saxophone case. My luggage for its unique color and my saxophone for being that looked like a case.
Gathering up my things, I replaced my shoulder bag with my case and let it swing by my hip. The carry on bag was placed on top of one of the suitcases in a way so it wouldn't fall – hopefully. I started to wheel my things to the exit. Which, by the way, took quite a decent amount to find. I always got lost in big places. Airports were always bad. I thought Lambert back in St. Louis was bad. But, once I had found the exit, I walked outside and I realized what he meant. He was hard to miss. He stood outside of his truck – which itself got a lot of attention, a dull, rusty red, with VampKill on the side, and thousands of lights and other things – propped up against the passenger door. He was a scruffy man who easily looked forty or so. He had black hair that looked like it hadn't seen a comb in some number of years. It seemed as though he used to be pale at one point in time, but due to sun exposure, he had developed a tan. It wasn't like mine though. Thankfully. He obviously didn't care much about hygiene. He wore black pants, some black shirt, a leather jacket, and black boots. He had a small hoop earring in his left ear and a cigar between his lips. Great, I'm living with an avid smoker.
Grudgingly, I made my over to him, with my head held high. Though I didn't like this at all, I walked with dignity. It was something my mom taught me. I remember her words so clearly, 'Even if you are walking through manure, keep your chin up, everyone will see a queen.' I stood before him as he let out a puff of smoke, which ended up hitting me in the face. I swatted away as much of it as I could and glared up at the man.
"Ah, so you must be Christiana's daughter, eh?" he asked in his thick Scottish accent – I realized that I'm going to have a hard time understanding anyone in this country, I barely understood people in my own country.
My eyes narrowed somewhat, "The name's Rebekah. You must be Rookery," I stated, so he could know, right then and there, how much I hated him.
He didn't seem to have a problem with me hating him all he did was smirk, "Yeah. Put your stuff in the trunk lassie."
My left eye began to twitch slightly at that term – lassie. I feel like a dog now. I 'hmpfed' and rolled my things to the back. I lifted up my first suitcase with some difficulty, but I managed to get it into the trunk, Along with the second one and my carry on. I took my saxophone and placed it in the back of his truck, which looked like he slept on every night. That begged the question, where the hell am I sleeping? I decided not to ask. I didn't really want to know.
Opening up the passenger side door, I raised an eyebrow at the dashboard of his truck. What in the world? Again, I wasn't going to ask, but I knew it had something to do with the VampKill sign on the side of the door. Vampire? Killing Vampires? This guy is worse than teenage girls in America reading Twilight and gushing over the vampires. I have read it, and hated it. Vampires', for one, are not supposed to sparkle in the sunlight. Those are fairies my friend. Vampires can't stand the sunlight. But, getting back to the topic at hand, this was a grown man who believed in vampires. Apparently, whole heartedly. My opinion on him now is that he's in insane, sick in the head, and needs help.
The ride to his house – I'm going to hope it's one – was short and quiet. I spent my time staring out the window at the beauty of Scotland, but not really seeing it. It's hard to explain. I saw it, yes, I'm not blind, but I didn't feel anything for it. I didn't feel like it was anything. Again, it's hard to explain.
When Rookery stopped the truck, I hopped out quickly and gathered my stuff as fast as I could. As I pulled my second suitcase out of the trunk, I looked around. We were somewhere in the woods, but I could still see lights from the town, so I assumed we were only on the edge of these woods. The house in front of me – and yes it was a house – looked very old and worn down. Ivy crawled up the sides of the house and bushes covered the land in front of the first floor windows. Weeds were everywhere. Without a word to Rookery, I wheeled my things towards the front door. I turned the door knob, resulting in a creak to come forth, I pushed open the door. Another creak was heard, a long and drawn out one. The sun light from behind me flooded the house and a frown instantly found its rightful spot on my face.
The inside was just as bad as the outside, if not worse. Everything was covered in dust, and as I rubbed my index finger along a table to my left, I realized it was a very think layer of dust. It's probably been collecting for years. The floors, all wooden, were warped in some places, which would prove hazardous to anyone walking around barefoot. Paint was peeling from the walls; the colors might have once looked lovely. I imagined that there would probably be insects and spiders around as well. Fuuuuun. I just love spiders. Note my sarcasm.
"This be me mum and da's home way back when," I could tell it was way back when moron, "Now, Rebekah, I won't be here. That alright with you lassie?" he asked me as he put his dirt covered hand on my shoulder.
I shied out from under his touch, dipping my shoulder and stepping to the left slightly, seeing as how he was one my right, "I'll be just fine."
With that I heard something metallic being placed on the table next to me and then he was gone. A slam of the old wooden door told me that much. Now, you may be thinking, a whole house to myself? Awesome! But it's really not. I need someone to talk to, someone to be with, but not him. He doesn't seem to have a sensitive bone in his body. Looking as to what was the metallic thing he placed on the table; I turned my head and saw a key. Great, now I can lock up. Sighing, I started dragging my things upstairs, looking for a halfway decent room. I opened door after door, until I reached the last door.
"Please let it be nice," I whispered to whatever God was up there, hoping he wasn't going to mock me by making it worse than the others.
Opening it, I was met with a welcomed surprise. Though the room was covered in dust like the rest of the house, everything else seems to have been left untouched, by both Mother Nature and man, since its prime. The room was painted a nice, rich, brown color. Curtains hung over the two windows on the far side of a room and they were a soft, sky blue with small, erratically placed, strips of brown. The same sky blue was on a rug at the foot of what appeared to be a twin sized bed. The bed sheets and comforter were adorned in the same colors. I thought about it for awhile. This had to be my mom's old room. It just seemed to fit her. Knowing I was going to be staying in my mom's old room somehow made me feel like I was connected to her. There was a set of drawers that reached my waist with a mirror to my right, and another dresser about a foot or so shorter than me to my left. A desk was pushed off into the right corner, along the wall with the door. The bed itself was placed in between the two windows on the far wall.
I placed my stuff down on the rug and closed the door. I walked over to the bed and pulled back the comforter and examined the sheets. They didn't seem to be ridden with bugs, but I wasn't going to take any chances. I was going to have to wash them. I thought about that small little chore. Thinking back to everything, all the dirt and grime, around the house, I was going to have to clean the whole thing. But who knows how long that could take.
"Eh, I'll just clean my room, kitchen, bathrooms, and living room, wherever that is," I decided, though it still seemed like the whole house once I finished listing.
I thought it would be better that I got started on that. Stripping the bed, I took the sheets and made my way back down the stairs to try and find a washer. After a bit of wandering, I found one. And it was about twenty years old. Mumbling a small pray about not having the washer break down on me, I tossed in the sheets and realized something. There was no Tide or Bleach, or anything. If Rookery hasn't lived here in years, then there was no food. No toiletries. No anything.
I groaned as I turned my back to the washer. One hand gripped to the side of the ancient appliance, as my other pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration. I was going to have to go out and buy everything. I had the money – for the time being – to buy everything I need, because my mom left me everything she had and more, but I didn't want to spend it all in the first week.
Then it hit me. Even if I were to go out and buy groceries, toiletries, and what not, I had no way of getting it home. I had no car. Again I groaned and clamped my eyes shut. I guess this is what an adult feels like when they are thrust into the world of getting everything they need with no help.
"Mom, I need help," I whispered as I let a stray tear find its way down my cheek and to my chin.
Well there it is everyone. Hope you enjoyed. I know it was short, well its longer than my first chapter, but anyway. Please, like always, REVIEW! I hope to hear from you. I'll be starting my third chapter shortly, but it more than likely won't be until the forth chapter - or the end of the third if you're lucky - that any mention of the characters of the movie are there.
Special Thanks for reviewing go to:
Vic90 - I totally know what you mean. I was hoping that I would stray away from that path, take the road less traveled, XD Thanks for reviewing, and I hope you enjoy the second chapter.