Sorry this one's been ages (over a month) in coming but I've got a friend
going through a rough patch (Harris knows what I'm on about) plus exams and
damn, why am I being so daft. It's here now, thanks for your patience and
thanks especially to DoriansBabe (stupid name anyway) and Elf of Avalon
(lifesaver and always has something nice to say.) Here goes nothing,
~*Skaye
Jan 24th
Dear Diary, work was dreadful, nobody noticed I was gone yesterday apparently. I sometimes wonder just why I do this job. Apart from Chemistry is my passion and I need the money. It looks like I just answered my own question, oh how Dorian would laugh at me. I keep thinking of him and not with my customary rage. I think of him with affection verging on love. No! That is too far, I barely know him, a few days ago I hated him and now... Everything is different. I spilled a beaker of ammonium sulphate on my hands in my fury. Perfect. Just perfect. What have I become? I am not myself. I have been plucked from my life, whirled around and set back on my feet and now my life seems new to me. Does he feel the same way? Part of me still says 'Who the devil cares?' but that part is becoming increasingly more ignored. I nearly lost my cool at a young intern who joked that maybe my absence previously was due to a new lover I wanted to get more "acquainted" with. I turned to him with an icy glare and I swear my eyes flashed red. He didn't see, thankfully, he was looking at his feet. It is a great gift, being able to outstare almost anybody and I was good at it even before I was a vampyre. I was already feeling uneasy enough about Dorian without brainless interns making things more complicated. When I got home, there was a card on my doorstep. I knew the handwriting and could tell who it was from. Not to my liking. It read:
Dear Mina, it appears I have won our little game, I got you. But a game was all it is. You were fun, I was foolish. I am leaving for Paris and you are going to get on with your life. Goodbye, Dorian
I threw the card to the floor in rage feeling my eyes redden and not caring. I flung off my coat and hat and leapt out into the night. I flew in a blur of bats (a new experience) to his house to find it empty. I screamed at the dark window and vented my fury attacking and killing the first three people I found. One was a governess who asked me if I was alright, the second was a delivery boy on his way home from work and the third was a drunk man staggering along the street who gaped stupidly at me before giving a half scream as my fangs tore into his throat. I scraped back in through my window, moonlight on my back, blood on my lips. I hate him. Dorian will bleed, Dorian will die. I swear the next throat I tear out will be his.
Jan 24th
Dear Diary, work was dreadful, nobody noticed I was gone yesterday apparently. I sometimes wonder just why I do this job. Apart from Chemistry is my passion and I need the money. It looks like I just answered my own question, oh how Dorian would laugh at me. I keep thinking of him and not with my customary rage. I think of him with affection verging on love. No! That is too far, I barely know him, a few days ago I hated him and now... Everything is different. I spilled a beaker of ammonium sulphate on my hands in my fury. Perfect. Just perfect. What have I become? I am not myself. I have been plucked from my life, whirled around and set back on my feet and now my life seems new to me. Does he feel the same way? Part of me still says 'Who the devil cares?' but that part is becoming increasingly more ignored. I nearly lost my cool at a young intern who joked that maybe my absence previously was due to a new lover I wanted to get more "acquainted" with. I turned to him with an icy glare and I swear my eyes flashed red. He didn't see, thankfully, he was looking at his feet. It is a great gift, being able to outstare almost anybody and I was good at it even before I was a vampyre. I was already feeling uneasy enough about Dorian without brainless interns making things more complicated. When I got home, there was a card on my doorstep. I knew the handwriting and could tell who it was from. Not to my liking. It read:
Dear Mina, it appears I have won our little game, I got you. But a game was all it is. You were fun, I was foolish. I am leaving for Paris and you are going to get on with your life. Goodbye, Dorian
I threw the card to the floor in rage feeling my eyes redden and not caring. I flung off my coat and hat and leapt out into the night. I flew in a blur of bats (a new experience) to his house to find it empty. I screamed at the dark window and vented my fury attacking and killing the first three people I found. One was a governess who asked me if I was alright, the second was a delivery boy on his way home from work and the third was a drunk man staggering along the street who gaped stupidly at me before giving a half scream as my fangs tore into his throat. I scraped back in through my window, moonlight on my back, blood on my lips. I hate him. Dorian will bleed, Dorian will die. I swear the next throat I tear out will be his.
