The thirst was unbearable. As soon as I opened my eyes and had his scent in my nose, I couldn't stop myself. I killed my father almost immediately. Afterwards, I felt shame, but I also felt a frenzy, a feeding frenzy, which overpowered my shame. I must of killed four humans that day as the vampire stranger, Aalexander, made no effort to restrain me.

One Year After Being Bitten

San Francisco was crowded. Humans' scents filled my nose constantly. Everytime I saw my father's face on my victims-my food- I felt ashamed all over again, but the fresh blood resisted the shame and released the thirst burning inside me. Turns out that while San Francisco was huge and crowded, it was far too small for a vampire with a haunting past to live in without running into a few ghosts.

I fled San Francisco and the ever-present vampire Aalexander for the place that all people run back to when trouble arises, home.

I snuck on a boat to my homeland Ireland from the San Fransisco Port. The boat ride was probably beautiful, but I didn't notice the views with my new super-vision because of antipation towards seeing my human family back home.

Home was where hills of green seemed to continue forever, where the sky was clean and clear, where rain fell by the bucket leaving a rainbow. When the boat finally docked in Ireland, I leapt from my hiding spot on the water-treader and sprinted vampire-style towards my house.

My home atop a hill of clovers with vine-covered walls and a warm,toasty fire. Not that I'd be going near any fire. Walking up the hill, the scents of colorful wildflowers relaxed my mind as I prepared myself to go inside and see my family. It had been almost a year after being bitten so I had more control over myself. I told myself that I could see my mother and sweet sister without killing them. I told myself that so much that I started to believe it as the truth.

The last time I had seen my mother and Lissa, I was leaving with Father for San Francisco to get rich and send them over. Right before I left, Lissa had given me a crown of wildflowers to put in my vibrant red locks. The flowers died soon after arriving in San Francisco, but I would never die. Father and I left in 1845, so Lissa would be 14 by now. My Lissa, my sweet, baby sister who was everything to me. I valued her life more than her blood, even as a newborn. Just imagining her grinning, freckled face made me pick up my human-speed to a more appropriate vampire-walk.

Before I could walk inside my house- still the same small, crumbling house- a small, gray slab of stone stopped me. It appeared to be some sort of marking. Even with my vampire-vision, I bent down to read the engraving in the rock. The roughly-carved letters read: Lissa McHenry, Died 1850.

I felt myself stiffen as my world crumbled.