"Blake has probably told you about how she was raised into a wealthy family, right? Yes. This is true. She told you about the murder, didn't she? That is also true. But this is the real story about her."

"Blake was indeed born and raised into a wealthy family. And sometimes, the wealth was abused by the use of alcohol. The whole Thuuman clan was addicted to the taste of alcohol. They needed it to keep their lives in order. But this only made the family three times dysfunctional than they were already. This was something young Blakely could not avoid, even if she had the power to. Blake was, by far, the only Thuuman to never have taken a drink of any type of booze. It was, to the family, a 'rite of passage' to have their first drink at a young age. And Blake refused. She had the gut feeling to not drink the cursed liquid.

Of course, this made her family irritated. Many times, they would force whiskey down her throat and she would scream in complete terror. She would spit it out; sometimes, it would not work. They would beat the poor child until she bled. Even do things to her she would not want to talk about.

There was even one instance where she had to serve drinks for a dinner party. The poor girl was rarely given food; that's why she is so skinny to this day. Anyway, one of her aunts had gotten up and dragged Blake to a room. There, some things had gone terribly wrong. The woman, too drunk to know what she was even doing, took Blake and did things in a sexual matter. This was the same for the men. It all left Blake completely hopeless and in fear for her life. She wanted to escape her reality and be free from all the corruption her family was placed in.

And so, in a result of her insanity, Blake found.. a 'special' friend. A friend that had only lived in her mind. The creature was named Lamia. Lamia was a kind boy just a few years older than her, maybe in his early teens. He was the one who showed her a better side of her life. He was... her only friend. The two would be together, even in the school house. He would be there for her and never leave her side.

The family, however, noticed that Blake was acting strange with her friend. They had realized that she was becoming... well, not herself anymore. Lamia was dragging her into their own little world. A world where she did not have to face the darkness of her reality. Even through their drunken state, they knew she was becoming insane.

Then, one night, Lamia told her about a certain feast... A feast where they were able to drink the blood of humans..."

"A vampire..." Butch muttered. The man nodded and continued...

"But this was not a sort of lifestyle Blake would have wanted. Lamia insisted that she take this path and be out of her hell of a prison. This was the point where Blake would not have trusted what Lamia would say. He was not surprised, but was disappointed.

Lamia had figured that, in her young age, she will lose her sanity completely, and be changed for good. He was right.

One night, Blake's uncle smashed a whiskey bottle across her face. But there was something inside of her that had snapped. Completely. Blake had lost her senses. She attacked her uncle with a large piece of the broken glass and stabbed him multiple times. He survived, but he needed to have the wounds stitched up.

When Blake had finished attacking him, she felt... a power. She felt a burst of strength inside of her. She wanted more of this. She wanted blood.

These actions went on for many months. Blake would curse them, make them bleed, break a bone or three, even humiliate them. This time, her clan could not do anything to keep her rage contained. They would threaten to send her to an institution in New York or Philadelphia, but she would retaliate and release her wrath upon them.

Blake's last action on them to their fate. As soon as the whole house was fast asleep, Lamia woke her and told her to end them. End them all. She was hesitant at first, but Lamia showed her the way to a knife found in the kitchen. When she held that knife in her small hands, she knew what to do.

Her first victims were her own flesh and blood parents. She had brutally stabbed them while they were asleep; their throats slit open. The blood was out. Lamia told her to drink it. She did. Her thirst for blood had grown quickly. She went to the other rooms and repeated the process. Even had the heart of a cousin's cut out; she ate that.

Blake, following whatever Lamia wanted her to do, burned the house down to rid of any evidence of her massacre. The light of the fire had woken many of the folks of her town as they had tried to put the fire out, not being very successful. The militia wanted to know who had started the fire, but Blake had already run away before they could question her.

After this incident, Blake has turned from the innocent beaten child she was to a cold hearted murderer she is to this day..."

...

...

...

All Butch could even do was sit there, and take all of this in.

Blake. Only a child. Had her heart turned dark in that short amount of time. This was just too unreal...

"Surprised?" the man asked. "Jus'... tryin' ta take in all that you jes' said..." Butch muttered, looking back at Blake's table.

"I... I jus'... Can't even imagine how she had to endure all o' that..." The man nodded and took another swig of whiskey. Butch just stared at his untouched whiskey. "But. There was one little thing she missed." Butch turned his attention back to the man. What now?

"There was one person who saw what had happened. He escaped before he could've been killed or burned alive." Butch gave the man a confused look. 'Now what's he sayin'?' he thought.

"Nobody really knows what came of him. Some say he went off to New York. Some say he owns a plantation. No one knows." 'Why the hell would I care 'bout that, ya crazy lil' shit?!' Butch said mentally.

"Well I best be get going!" the man announced, taking the paper. But Butch placed his hand on the paper before he could take it. The grey cladded man stared at him in amazement. "Hold on a minute," Butch said, "that don' make any sense. How the hell do you even know 'bout all them? Even more 'bout Blake?"

The man grinned and let Butch have the paper. He sat back down and said briefly. "Blake had a caring uncle named Joe. He treated her very kindly and not like how the clan did. He was the only one who didn't drink heavily. Blake trusted him so much, she had told him about her little world and friend. He even noted her development from sane to insane. Even, like I said, escaped her wrath."

Butch didn't know what he was talking about. "Where ya goin' wit' all this?" he asked.

The man grinned again, got up, and was right next to Butch's ear when he whispered, "My name is Jose 'Joe' Montezuma. I am Blake's sole surviving victim. Her uncle by marriage."