Hey everyone! I've decided to add new chapters to Rescue Me, Sister as I missed writing for this particular story and think it will flow better if keep on writing this story instead of making a new one. Anyway, I hope you enjoy. This was the first chapter of 'Live To Tell' but I have made some changes.

All my love you awesome people ~ vogueinnocencebeauty.

Two Months Later... November 1987.

Being deceased is an odd notion, the fact someone can be living, healthy and youthful one moment, deteriorating with age until their time is up, just like the sun in a million years time. It is something that doesn't cross my mind because I don't like the thought of it. I had my chance to be immortal, and I wisely turned it down. I don't want that life, and I'm glad I didn't consent David to defeat me as I wouldn't have my future today. Emotionally, the event has in some ways blemished me as a person, but I don't regret going through the ordeal for one moment as it created a stronger person in me and granted me to meet other people who would change my life.

I attempt to draw out positives from the experience and it works to improve the negatives that transpired from it. I met Michael, a man who truly altered my life and educated me what the sensation of feeling loved is like. He presented me with the gift of not having to rely on my instincts and gave me freedom from my independent nature. One memory that won't ever desert me is the night Michael and I met at my family's comic store in June.

As I perform the picturesque event in my head, I permit the two corners of my rosy lips to elevate themselves simultaneously with the motion of hoisting my body up gracefully in an intricate manner so I am elegantly twirling on the tip of my big toe, the formalized movement conveying poetic expression. The mellifluous gesture is chanting with clarity, the emotions strident. My mind wanders to Dwayne, the man I have distinguished in the dark many times, but have only incarcerated his fixated stare. We haven't talked for two months. He diminishes as the light of the future fortifies, and it's there in the darkness, we all shine. We, as in those who battled the vampire's malevolent schemes effectively.

I was not ready for the storm...

It was ferocious in the story, a victorious song where the power cascaded out of the soulful voice like acid, which in favour, reflects onto the three dancers in the room. Our personal body heat radiates, a sheen of sweat concealing our faces. The intensity of the dance pillages me of oxygen, deserting me to ensure I am breathless. That's precisely what I desire – to have my breath stolen away from me. Ragged, disorganized breaths liberate from our mouths with each step created with exactitude. It suited my mood, evocative of the past that has affected me. The final choreographed move, it must be utter perfection. It strikes! It was immaculate, and will abandon an audience with a commendable caress they will recall for the rest of their lives. From the minute all the music ceases to exist, a miniscule second of silence is engrossed with the wheezing squeals from two good friends. Live to Tell fades out, but the lyrics haunt me. No one, but those who lived through it, will know what we endured those three months.

"Shit, that was..." Lana pants, musing over her word choice "the shit!" Ginger and I immediately burst out laughing, primarily at her favourite word. "What's wrong with the word shit? It's a great word!"

Lana stands there, hands on her slender hips toned from just over a decade of dancing, with a tall stance towering over both Ginger and I, those glossy black tresses cascading down to the bottom of her back, an absolute beauty queen. Though I am 5'6, Lana stands at an invincible 5'9. All of our lives, we have strived to reach this destination of studying the art, dancing until we are nothing but sweat and blood, and to attain the recognition we deserve to be given in order to reach the peak of our aspirations – dance college. Mainly, my heart wishes to travel transversely around the world, but there is always the dominating sickness felt when musing over my departure from the state I've been calling home since the day I was born.

I glance at the clock suspending from an elderly grocery store opposite the dance studio, reading the time as about eight thirty at night. We have been dancing for around five hours non-stop to various songs, practicing until precision was accomplished. Within just under an hour with each song communicated through cassette, we reached the salvation of knowing we created something with a grand value of importance to us. Dance has always been my retreat to a fantasy world where everything is blithe and boundaries crafted by those superior to us can be fractured.

After we had cleansed the evaporating sweat from our faces and had modified our outfits of damp baggy jumpers draping off of our shoulders and stirrup pants to something more suited for public, we made our way out of the studio and part ways, me walking just a few blocks away to wear I live with Michael. I am wearing my chemically bleached denim jacket that swamps on me alongside a black and white polka dot jumpsuit brimming with white lace and overlapping necklaces, mainly dramatically enlarged crosses suspending from the silver chains. To complete this appearance, I painted my face with cosmetics suited for my sun-kissed skin, as well as some 50's inspired cat-eye eyeliner that caused my ocean blue eyes to be prominent and ruby lipstick which had the purpose of governing the night ahead.

However, only one man has control of the right to endearingly possess everything I am – Michael. Subsequent to the battle, I was bestowed the money my maternal grandparents left behind for me. For the first time in my life, I declared myself an affluent being. Through this financial gain, Michael and I bought a house on the outskirts of Santa Carla where each night we drift into a terrorizing slumber to the peaceful waves crashing gently together, its song lulling us into a momentary haven. Whilst the deal abided by no physical contact from both Dwayne and David, David deciphered this as mental contact being permitted. For the first night, I authentically missed them both. The amount of how much I missed him was shown draping over drenched mascara concealed eyelashes and incessantly discharging down my cheeks. This only lasted for the night, and after that, I questioned whether I was crying from the relief of being unchained from their sin, or whether it was because I pined for those days where everything was alright. It's taking me a while to let those memories burn, but after thinking of how traumatic the experience was, I don't think they'll ever abandon me.

One dream they gifted me broke my heart for mere seconds after I awakened. Three vampires were acquainted with their fate that night in the pretend world of nightmares: Delilah, who fell prey to her demise when she metamorphosed into a vampire during her three year period of being an abducted woman. Secondly was Dwayne, the man whose cocoa eyes slipped shut for the ultimate time when I killed him, gouging his soundless heart encompassed with love for me, with the lethal weapon famous for slaughtering all vampires. Finally, was David – the man I to this very second hold the greatest amount of detestation for. I have been free of his poisonous inflictions for two months now. The conclusion of my hatred is pending. The worst dream was four days after Leonardo's death...

"I'm still here, Sierra. I'm not finished with you yet" his smoky voice growled. I covered my ears, the pressure of my hands pressing onto them was so strong, and it felt as if a boulder was crushing them with all of its powerful might.

I just wanted his horrendous voice to die, to be submitted to a replicating death that was far from kind. I wanted him to suffer the excruciation he subjected upon me. Every night it was an apocalypse in my mind, his voice commanded it. My tears pleaded him to cease his hisses, my heart desired to yield to his requests, but my soul was resolute to overpower him.

As I wept, my fears were unleashed into the wild, exposed for him to see. He would cackle menacingly at this, like it presented him with great satisfaction. I thought these tormenting voices had expired along with the dream. I was the fool who believed it would do just that.

I hadn't slept for three nights and three days, the night petrified me because I foresaw the yelling and the barking from the night before, and acknowledged he was going to strike again the next night.

I clamoured to my feet, daring myself to bare my ears to his jeering whispers. I was frightened. My hands were quaking and I feared that if I even glanced into the mirror, his reflection of platinum blonde hair and a cruel sneer would be there staring at me.

"Sierra?" Michael grumbled, I could hear him climb sluggishly out of my bed, the mattress creaking with the rusted springs. "Sierra, baby, are you awake?" This wasn't the primary time Michael had forced himself out of a peaceful slumber because I had been awoken by taunts. It had been a regular occurrence for weeks.

It was unattainable for him to hurt me. He couldn't harm me. He was deceiving me.

"Look at me – now"

My head snagged to the mirror I was afraid of, my nightmare facing me with his golden eyes boring into my frail being. In the dead of the night, where the lights had decayed, he seized my sanity.

The world that had granted me so much contentment and fright, commenced in spiralling whilst he cackled forebodingly. Footsteps increased, the sound drowning in my ears. I had trapped myself in here, confining myself with him – the monster I once thought was my friend. The door handle rattled, and again, and again, and again like a furious rattlesnake.

"Sierra? Baby, are you feeling okay?" His voice would be the last thing I heard until I woke up the following day.

"Michael" I whispered his name, a placid caress, a hopeful prayer that would make everything vanish. Darkness congested my sight, my mind and my body. It enclosed in on me, ready to attack.

My body plummeted to the barren floor, my head making painful with it. The rattling of the doorknob heightened, panic being heard. The banging, the kicking at the pine frame faded out until I reached a state of happiness. I was unshackled from him – David.

Certain things still haunt us from our time as a half-vampire. The sun is no longer a summer delight, showers are off limits as our skin numbly senses what would have once blistered us and we no longer elicit the full enchantment from our favourite meals. It doesn't taste bland, but the food we once relished had withered slightly. I shake my head, the most tragic of the effect striking to kill, and soon it is removed, only by the benevolent presence of my fiancée, standing in front of me with a broad grin on his plump, silken lips.

My upper set of teeth clamp down on my rouged bottom lip as they begin to form a teasing smile, skipping over to Michael who strides towards me, his intense light blue eyes deeply staring into mine as if he were scouring them for a long lost treasure, capturing my cheeks once he is in my comfort zone, lowering his head to my height so our lips make passionate contact for a lengthy and cherished second. He raises, a satisfied grin being his most striking feature, the palms of his lukewarm hands still cupping my blushing cheeks and his thumbs stroking the scarlet pigment leaking into my naturally bronzed skin.

"Have a good dance session, princess?" he asks, his tone just as seductive as his kiss.

A little stunned still from the lustful exchange of affection, I peer up at him and nod enthusiastically, then deciding to tantalize him by reaching up with the objective of kissing his lips once more, but only consent my bottom lip to touch his, retracting with a mischievous grin that mirrors his. Jokingly, Michael pouts and lowers his hands so they lightly hold my slim hips.

"Why tease me like this, Boo-Bear? It's breaking my heart" Michael weeps in jest, arching his back to continue his jocular sobs into my bared shoulder.

Instead, he extracts amusement from blowing raspberries on my neck, causing me to unearth the hidden giggles lurking within the depths of my stomach that now aches from the blissful laughter. Michael raises his head ever so slightly, rubbing his nose against mine, hastily yet softly kissing my lips.

"Going to kiss me now?" With a response of a cheerful 'no' suffocated by giggles, he repeats the quick and supple kiss. "Now?" Again, with the giggles amplified, I say no. "What about now?" Those giggles ascend dramatically in volume as he begins blowing raspberries on my neck again, until I finally relent, screaming the answer he wanted from me. "Good, I've missed you" he murmurs as we press our faces closely together, savouring the consoling warmth exuding from his sun-kissed skin, our lips entangling amorously and my scalp tingling as his fingers roam freely in my dark locks.

Then, there is the taste of blood in my mouth, forming all over my gums so I have no choice but to choke on it. I try to resist, try to block out the notion of killing someone. Ripping them apart. Taking an innocent persons life. Stop it, Sierra. Just stop!

It isn't Michael. No, it's my worst nightmare. The man behind all of my pain – David. That sweet, lustful sin with ice blue eyes.

"Surprise, surprise, Sierra. And you thought I wasn't a good kisser! Pucker up, princess" David chuckles, suffocating my screams as he kisses me deeply.

Abruptly, we are interrupted. Our heads snap up at the very sound. The dreadful, rumbling nightmare returns, materializing into a reality. Heart pounding, beads of sweat emerging, we watch the smirk crawling on his wintry lips that have been smeared with the blood of thousands prior to this night. He is everywhere. Within moments, the black motorbikes have passed. Though they have vanished into the treacherous shadows of the night, my pulse continues to throb frantically. Have I got a heart in this world of dreams?

Dreams... this isn't real. Is it?

"No, Sierra, but with time, I can make it real" he sniggers, blood stained around his mouth, the same blood that drips from my plump, bottom lip.

He is monstrous.

"You love it really" David chuckles, leaning in so I can feel his wintry breath expand over my lips. "Wakey, wakey, Sierra"

I wake up, still in the attire I was wearing when I left the dance studio. I went home straight away, I didn't stand outside and let David kiss me. It was a dream. Just a dream. Just something he uses to control me now.

David isn't Michael, Michael isn't David. They are so dissimilar. David equates to a monster. Michael, however, there is an absence of malice with him. Otherwise why else would I agree to marry him?

The door from the front room slams, and I immediately tense up. Footsteps heard from the other room coming into this one echo in my ears, until finally I can relax. It's just Michael. He comes over to me, his smile falling when he sees the state I'm in; panicked, sweat gleaming from my forehead. I look a mess, an absolute mess.

"Baby, what is it?" Michael asks, bundling me up into a pacifying embrace. I lean into his chest, hiding my head away from the memory of David. Whilst I want to tell him, ultimately I just shake my head. "Alright. Alright, sweetheart. I've brought some dinner home for us. Just McDonalds, nothing fancy"

I nod, not having stirred myself to the point where I can actually speak just yet. All I can do is focus on that dreadful voice in the back of my head. The same sentence repeating itself, over and over.

I told you before... you are human and free – for now.