0k, so I know you're probably getting bored with the whole "Fern's traumatic history" thing, but I promise that there's only going to be one more chapter of it. I just really feel like it's important to know the facts of why Fern is such a bitter, messed up little freak.

But I still love her!

Also, please let me know if you thing I should change the rating to "M" there's some pretty suggestive stuff in here.

Chapter 8: Vivien

'"Pay no attention, chéri. It will be only a fortnight before you fail to remember them both."

The man who had just slain my Mother and my little sister reached out a cold, pale hand to me…his top hat fell to the blood-stained cobblestone street as he bowed forward. He had a mess of shaggy blond hair on his head with ridiculous side burns, and his eyes…his eyes could pierce through you like the sharpened edge of a spear. Now, being only 8 years old and thoroughly overcome with shock, I could do nothing but let him take my own tiny hand and whisk me into his arms. I fell in and out of consciousness that night. I would open my eyes and be met with the sight of his thin body working over me, then a dingy sort of dungeon room, and again to the sight of several decomposed carcasses of what I now realize were other children he had stolen, chained to a wall.

His name was Vivien. He did not tell me until the 3rd day of my stay in his home, or rather, his dungeon- and he told me while he was feeding from an upper portion of my thigh. Chéri, I would so love if you could call me by name. 'Vivien'. Go on now, try saying it 'Vivien', 'Vivien'. But I did not open my mouth. Nor did I cry, nor did I sleep, nor did I feel anything much else than repressed despair and hatred for this terrible man who caused me great pain from the time I had arrived at the horrifying place. He often curled a disgusting pale finger around my red curls as he fed from me, and many times he kissed me on my chapped lips, letting the blood in his mouth flow into mine. Vivien was in love with me. He told me so almost a decade after I had been turned. He was a first class pedophile; the disgusting kind of predator that could get away with stealing beggar children from their dirty shacks in London and keep them chained to a wall in his dungeon for as long as he could drink from them. Being a pedophile worked in Vivien's favor because the blood of a child is sweeter than any other human's blood, and many of them were too weak to put up fights when he tortured them.

But I was different. Vivien thirsted for my blood more so than any other child before me, but he also didn't want to see me die. He wanted me so bad that he stopped drinking from me when I began to show signs of starvation and dehydration. In a sudden impulse, he decided that turning me into a vampire was the only way he could keep me forever. So Vivien drained me, let me feed from him, and slept with me in a hole in his dungeon for two days. On the second night, I rose as vampire. I was confused and hungry-so hungry I felt as if I would die all over again.

"You are no longer a human child, my darling. You are a beast that feeds off the life force of others. We must never see the light of day, nor touch the slightest silver, nor reveal ourselves to human kind. And never, ever shall you disobey me, for I am your master", he told me gingerly.

And so it was that I was made vampire, but I did not grasp the concept that I was no longer human. I acted no differently that I had as a normal child…accept of course, that I was quieter and more bloodthirsty. My first meal consisted of an old beggar woman out on the street; Vivien taught me how to silence my victim by breaking their neck and then sucking them dry. It was best, as he put it, for me to kill in my first years of being vampire because it would be hard for me to learn how to glamour humans.

The years of my eternal childhood went on; I began to develop the personality of a young girl. When I turned 17, Vivien destroyed my purity. It hurt every time, but something was different about his familiar advances- I was intelligent and strong enough to get him off me and hurl insults at him. I hated Vivien with more passion than I had ever felt before. I often threw tantrums and threatened to burn myself in the sun at his expense. But he continued to love me and treat me like his child…a child that he lusted for more than the blood of any human. By the time I was 30 I was still unable to glamour and found myself unnecessarily tied to him. I was not careful enough with my victims to risk escape. Besides, he was better at coaxing humans into his trap with his 28 year-old dashing looks. I was also completely aware of the fact that I was not maturing the way most women did. I remained stagnant in my 8-year old body, a flat chest, the same childish red curls flowing down my back, the same child-like demeanor. The only thing worse than being a vampire is being a vampire in a child's body. When I had been in London for half of a decade, the blocked-out memories of Vivien brutalizing my Mother and sister slowly started to return to me. It fueled my hatred; fueled it until I could only release my anger on the humans I fed from. I was still under the impenetrable spell of my maker.

Vivien soon grew tired of London. He had lived there for two centuries and he was worried that my messy killing habits (I often snuck off by myself and devoured men who I imagined to resemble Vivien in fits of my repressed rage) might soon put us on "wanted" notices. He was inexplicably skilled at glamouring humans, he could glamour an entire ballroom of people to the near point of insanity, but he could not stalk and glamour each and every person that witnessed my slaughters. After all, it was the 1800's and railway systems had made it easier for vampires to travel great distances without having to reveal themselves to the sun. We made our way to his home town, the root of his disgusting existence- Paris, France. Paris was, of course, a shock to my system when I first arrived. People spoke in a strange tongue and the city was so much more beautiful than the dank streets of London. As we settled and found a quaint flat in the center of town with an accessible cellar, Vivien taught me to speak French- as well as how to expand my English vocabulary and speak, as he called it like a "Dame de la haute société" ( a high society lady). Perhaps he was trying to win my affection after realizing I hated him, but Vivien catered to my every wish. He stole for me the latest fashions, had them tailored to fit my childish body, and even let me have a pet dog…which sadly, only lasted for a few weeks because I forgot to feed it.

By the late 1870's I was nearing 128 years old. Time no longer seemed tangible, and hopes of escaping seemed like nothing more than a pipe dream. That was, of course, until one night when I had ventured off to a nearby park and caught wind of a conversation between two rich gentlemen who spoke of a place called "The United States". Their tones while speaking seemed to be very displeased with the culture and government in the United States (for reasons I did not understand at that time, Vivien didn't bother teaching me world history) but I couldn't help but picture the diverse lands and the promise of a new life. I had begun a new obsession: getting to the United States and starting a completely new life. A life full of promises…a life sans Vivien. I pictured myself suddenly growing older without him by my side, the terrible curse of being vampire lifted- and human sensations that I could no longer recall flowing back into my frail body. I was convinced that Vivien was the curse. And there had to be a way to get away from him.