Dear Diary,
Days dragged on, and Jannice's body lay, still, motionless upon the dirt floor. I had not mustered up the strength to move her frail body. I killed this woman. The thought wouldn't leave my mind. It taunted me, bringing me ever closer to the edge of insanity. If it were not for James, I believe I would have tumbled off that cliff decades ago.
Through his strange behavior, sudden departures from the little shack of a home, and hurried words which flew together into one great slur, I could tell the "war" was drawing closer. Perhaps closer than ever imagined. He couldn't stay still. We would sit in the rickety, wooden, stick-chairs but he would fidget. He would shuffle his rear, as if not able to get comfortable.
"What's the matter?" I asked continually. And time after time he would reply, "Nothing, nothing at all. Don't worry yourself." I would rise from my seat and gently, majestically glide over to him, compassionately wrapping my arms around his shoulders. I would shower his forehead with loving kisses. I would repeat loving words, such as, I love you and I am here for you. They never worked, but it made me feel better.
All this brings me to this day, this long-awaited day. The day he told me what I am to actually do. He explained to me the plan, which was worked out centuries before me. I was to sleep for one whole week, without waking at all. (This would enhance my powers, as well as beauty.) Then, I would travel into the city of Los Angeles, to search for the vampire hunters. My beauty, and newfound powers would cloud their judgment of my vampirism, trick them into thinking I was mortal. I would befriend them, and become one of them. I would train with them, learn their ways. Then and only then would I be able to destroy them from their source. I would only then save the entire race.
I am now writing in the dark, with only my night vision to aid me. I am in my sarcophagus, to stay for a week. Slowly, carefully I will tell you the events that led up to this situation. For they are quite complicated, full of good-byes and tears, of screams and echoes in the dark.
James' face was distant, as if he was staring at a distracting light in the distance. It seemed as minutes passed, he could see the light travel towards him and his eyes widened. He never did look me in the face in those long moments and I returned to my old ways of begging for attention. "James," I said, my voice shaking with uncontrollable fear. "I cannot do this." The invisible light diminished, and he looked at me. No, not at me, more just in my direction. He did not stare into my eyes, blazing into my soul, but merely looked at my face, with no emotion whatsoever. "Julie, do not doubt what you can and cannot do." Silence.
In the background I heard a clock strike its two o'clock bell. I was still demanding attention from James, my eyes peering into his blank face. Then, to my surprise I saw a lone, sparkling tear travel down his face, glistening in the darkness. "It is time. Come." He stood, still no emotion in his body. I followed, obeying every one of his commands. He shuffled his feet along, and once more I saw his weakness. Stress, love, fear. He traveled into the bedroom. The red curtains draped the walls, covering the golden wallpaper beneath it. He stopped at the mahogany sarcophagus, and began tracing his finger upon the ridged edge.
With a sudden, unexpected force he threw off the lid. He looked at his feet as he silently gestured for me to get in. I obeyed once more and lifted myself into the coffin. I felt the soft feeling of the red velvet upon my smooth skin and tiny bumps spread across my body. I stared into James' eyes again, hoping he would do the same, but he quickly looked away. He lowered his torso to the end table next to the coffin and brushed his hands upon the hammer and nails that lay upon the table. "I love you." He whispered, yet another tear falling from his eyes. "Never forget that." I nodded, silent with fear. A lump had blocked all words, all noises. He gestured with his downward facing head for me to lay back. I did so, not looking at him, but straight ahead, as if moving would send me tumbling through space.
My last vision, my last image was his face. His tear filled eyes, those green eyes glazed with salty tears. His lips were forming the words, "I love you". I was smiling, perhaps in fear, but mostly because of those words. Was it impossible for me not to smile when such words were spoken to me? The banging of those nails, I will never forget. The bloody banging, I can still hear it. It is torturing me, that blasted banging that trapped me in this place. I am trapped in death, the box of death. Luckily, before I was told to enter this coffin, I grabbed you, my beloved diary.
That is all I have for now. Perhaps at a later time, I will write. But now, I will attempt to sleep, if my dreams allow it. If the pounding of those nails does not come back, if it does not wish to torture me any longer. For now, diary, good night.