"People are strange when you're a stranger, faces look ugly when you're alone." -The Doors

People Are Strange

There was blood. There was a tall jeweled bottle. And there were four men hanging around inside of a cave, whooping and hollering as if they'd never whoop and holler again. But as they whooped and hollered, a young girl was standing outside the cave, alone, looking around at all she saw.

She wore two little pigtails full of delicate brown locks of hair, and had big blue eyes that showed emotions with ease. Her lips were pouted as she was sprayed with ocean water in the middle of the night, and her arms were wrapped tightly around her midsection. She didn't know how she'd gotten here, in front of a cave, where the whoops and hollers came from.

Then . . . she stepped inside.

Now, Rosalie was confused as she laid her eyes upon what she'd seen. She saw the little girl and recognized her from pictures - pictures of her. She was terribly confused as to what was going to happen, and why she was going to enter the cave.

Her little steps were quiet as she followed the noises, her eyebrows furrowing as she did so. The steps were steep and made of dirt, which was confusing to her because she was used to wooden stairs. Not dirt.

But then the little girl made one mistake: she mistook a step and went tumbling down with a screech. Immediately all other noises ceased and were replaced by hisses of a primal being, and all four of the men that had been lingering in the cave looked at the little girl who fell onto flat ground.

Her face contorted with pain and tears fell from her eyes as she began sobbing, and all four men closed in on her. But then one noticed her age.

"Three," he said, holding one of the others back from attacking her. "She's only three. Marko, get me a first aid kit."

"David, we don't have one down here. Why would we need one?"

"Well we need one now." He flashed his fangs as a warning. "Get one for me, now!"

Marko nodded, used to David's bossiness, and left the cave in search for a first aid kit. The other two men backed off, but their eyes never left the bloody knees of the little girl.

David picked her up, fighting back the urge to drink her blood.

"What is your name." The girl sniffled.

"B-Bella . . ." She clung to his jacket and he looked down at her little hands. Then . . . a thought hit him.

"You look more like a Rose to me," he said, looking over her face. "That was the name of one of my sister's. Why don't I call you . . . Rosalie."

"O-Okay," the little girl responded with a sniffle and a nod. "Who are you?"

"My name's David, and that's Paul, and that's Dwayne." Dwayne's eyes had left the scraped knees, but when he met Rosalie's eyes something changed. He felt . . . something. It was love for the girl, as if he wanted to keep her safe from all the harm the world might give her. He wanted to make sure she would be treated special, and even from a brief glance her knew that this little girl meant something to him.

And that's when Rosalie woke up, in a sweat, from Laddie jumping on her, saying breakfast was ready and he wanted to go back to the comic book store on the boardwalk.

"If I get more comics, I'll be busier longer, and you won't have to worry about me!" Laddie said, jumping up and down on top of Rosalie as she pulled the blanket over her head. "And that one guy can have more time to talk to you!"

"Laddie, it's too early for this," Rosalie responded.

"But it's already nine! It's time for the day to start!"

"I'll be down in a little bit. Just . . . go on down."

"But-"

"Please?" Laddie gave a little groan, but stopped jumping and left the room. Rosalie sat up, thinking about the dream of the previous night.

Was that real? she thought, pulling back the blankets. Did everything in the dream really happen at one time? Was what happened last night real and not a dream? What if this is all . . . fake?

But even Rosalie knew it wasn't fake. She knew that as soon as she saw the jacket from last night thrown over a chair. Rosalie stood and walked over to the jacket carefully, as if waiting for something to jump out. But nothing did.

And then she lifted up the jacket, holding it in one of her arms as she felt the leather with her fingers.

It was a pretty normal jacket - black, with soft, worn leather and metal buttons up the openings. The collar was folded in triangles, along with the zippers on the sides. The only thing that set this leather jacket apart from others was the right sleeve, which was printed with a tiger clawing the right breast bone on the side. Rosalie hadn't noticed that.

She kept her eyes trailed on it, focusing on the claws of the tiger as she thought.

I know this jacket, I know this jacket, I know this jacket . . . Where do I know this jacket?

"Bella, breakfast in ready!" Mrs. Caligor called up the stairs. Rosalie didn't respond, forgetting her name was actually Bella, and remained in the same spot. Until she heard the footsteps on the stairs, and she rushed around her room to hide the jacket. It ended up in one of her boxes in the closet and right as the door opened, Rosalie was walking towards the door.

"Oh, you're awake," Mrs. Caligor said with a slight raised eyebrow. "I thought you were still in bed."

"I just got up," Rosalie responded.

"As I can see. Breakfast is ready downstairs."

"Alright." There was no mention of last night's events, much to Rosalie's relief. She followed Mrs. Caligor down the stairs of the house and into the dining room, where her father and little brother sat. Kevin wasn't even in the room, but at this point, Rosalie wasn't surprised. In fact, she was sure he was either passed out in his car or over at Kyle's house. Maybe John's, even.

Rosalie took a spot beside Laddie, who gave her a grin as she sat.

"Can we please go?" he whispered as she sat, Mrs. Caligor taking a spot across from her. "Please?"

"What're you talking about, Laddie?" Mr. Caligor asked, earning the attention of his wife.

"He wants me to go with him on the boardwalk," Rosalie explained, seeing no point in lying.

"Well . . . I don't see a problem with that," Mr. Caligor replied. "It could save us some money, so we don't have to take him to that daycare today. What do you think, honey?"

"It is girl's night at Lucky's Bar . . . Do you think you could watch him for tonight, too?" Mrs. Caligor asked. "I don't want to make you do anything, though, and I'll make sure you have money."

Enough shoving money down my throat, Rosalie thought with an internal groan.

"That'll work," Rosalie said as Laddie clapped his hands.

I just hope those one guys will be on the boardwalk.

Rosalie walked up to her room as soon as she finished eating breakfast, Laddie right on her heels and talking her ear off.

"Are we going to the comic book store?" he asked, watching as she fished into her closet for the leather jacket. "What's that? I like the tiger!"

"It's one of my . . . friends's . . . jacket."

"But why do you have it?" Laddie asked. Rosalie picked out an outfit and walked into the bathroom, leaving the door cracked.

"They let me borrow it."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

"Laddie." She finished changing and ruffled her hair before walking out. She hesitated, looking at the jacket, before putting it over her arm to carry.

"Are you taking that with you?" Laddie asked. Rosalie gave a slight nod as she put her bag over her shoulder. She took Laddie's hand in hers and led him from the house before their parents could give them any money to spend.

The whole time they walked to the boardwalk, Laddie asked all about the jacket and the person who owned it. Rosalie didn't know much about the owner himself, and only that he was silent and dark.

As soon as they reached the boardwalk, though, her thoughts went to making sure Laddie was in her vision. He was already running to the comic book store, ready to find a new comic. When it finally came into view, Rosalie relaxed and let him find his comics.

"You're back," Edgar said from the store counter, watching as she walked over.

"Laddie was practically begging to come back," Rosalie responded, looking over at Alan. His eyes reminded her of Dwayne's - dark and never leaving her.

"Did you read the comic?" Edgar asked.

"I haven't had the time," Rosalie responded. Then she paused, thinking. "But I saw them last night. The boys."

Edgar jumped down from the counter, standing in front of her.

"Tell me everything that happened."

". . . They'd followed me to the train tracks. They told me that they were keeping an eye on me and I think they knew me from somewhere."

"We've got to do something," Alan spoke up. "Before they kill . . ."

Rosalie went silent. Would they really kill me if they were keeping me protected from something?

". . . I don't think they're going to kill me. They wouldn't be keeping an eye on me unless-"

"-Unless they wanted to stalk you before eating you."

"Are you still stuck on this vampire thing?" Rosalie asked. In truth, she was concerned about that herself. "I don't think they're vampires."

"They are. I can sense it." Laddie came running up with a stack of comics, and Rosalie paid for them.

"Maybe you're wrong, though," Rosalie said, "Look . . . maybe I can figure out if they are."

"What are you proposing?"

"What I'm proposing is . . . maybe I can see it for myself and figure out if they are. If they aren't, then back off. If they are . . . well, I'm not sure."

"Are you telling us to wait?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying, because if you kill them and they aren't vampires, you'll be in a lot of trouble. So stay back, and let me handle it."

"That's not what we do, Rose," Alan butt in. "We don't let people keep us from our work."

"Well, Mr. Frog, I am." She looked him dead in the eye before Laddie took her hand, dragging her out of the store and away from the startled boys.