All I remembered was screaming. Searing pain, a fire building through my body, my heart burning. Wishing I could rip the skin away from my bones and then snap the bones off one by one. And no one came to help me. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I felt as if I rode the line between life and death, but never really found either.

And after what felt like a lifetime, I slowly came out of my torture and into a hazy consciousness. I tried to move my fingers, which worked a little. After some more time, I was regaining control of my limbs. Finally, without warning, the torture subsided as it worked its way to my heart with one gigantic final burst of pain.

I opened my eyes and surveyed my surroundings. I was in some sort of wooded area unfamiliar to me. I was lying next to a tent in the dark.

My mind could hardly comprehend what my eyes were seeing. It was like my whole life I had been watching things through a fogged mirror. And now I was actually living. Everything was in detailed color. I looked at the tent next to me. I should see if anyone is inside...

And in a single moment, I was already inside the tent before I could finish my thought. My body moved like lightning. I glanced around me. Sitting there, reading a book in the dark was George.

I instantaneously hissed at him, my lips pulling back from my teeth. What? Why was I acting like some kind of animal?

George looked up at me, and rolled his eyes. "So... you made it then?" he put a bookmark in the small bound book and set it down on the ground beside him. "Exit the tent. We need to talk."

Before I could argue, my body had flown out of the tent and into the clearing where the tent stood. George came out of the tent slowly. He brushed some dirt off his clothes and crossed his arms, looking at me.

"You look good." he said quietly, his eyes glancing up and down my body.

I looked down at what I was wearing. I had on a long, white nightgown. The bodice was tight enough that I could see my figure - and boy how I had changed. What little fat I had was gone. I was lean, almost muscular. My breasts were a little larger, fuller at least. Even as I looked at my hands I could see my fingers were slightly longer, kind of like claws or talons, but far more feminine.

I looked back up at George, unable to speak out loud. He nodded slowly to himself. "Yes, you will do."

"I... what?" I finally forced myself to speak. I was shocked at what came out. Even my voice was soft and melodic, more beautiful than it was before.

He sighed. "I'm not going to be gentle about this. Elizabeth, you are a vampire now."

My emotions flew all over. I wanted to scream, to cry... but nothing came out. I just stood there in shock as I tried to understand what he was telling me.

"And as a vampire, you will consume human blood to survive. And as your creator, I have dominion over you. You will do whatever I say, when I say. Or you will endure a punishment that makes your transformation seem like a mid-afternoon stroll through the park."

I looked into his eyes, and I trembled. His face was not as gentle and handsome as I had seen as a human. I could see dark shadows under his bright crimson eyes. His lips were darker red than they should have been... was it from the blood? And his teeth... they were shinier and even more menacing... more like the fangs of a wolf than of a person. His face morphed into a scowl as he waited for me to respond.

"Understand?" he snarled.

I had no choice. I either had to obey him, or endure the torture I knew was waiting for me. I nodded submissively.

"Good. Now get back in the tent. I have something I want you to do. Now!" he snapped impatiently as I stood there.

All of these muscles, the pure life I felt running through me... and I didn't feel strong. I felt completely powerless to George. I did as he asked, hurrying into the tent.

I probably should have run. I should have screamed. I should have done something. Because what happened next was far worse than any physical pain I could have ever imagined.

I won't go into vivid detail as to what happened. The thought is too painful to recall. The scars scattered along my chest, shoulders and thighs tell a story I don't like to think of. A story of sexual torture and fear. A story where the main character's death would have been a welcome and happy ending.

In this horrific story of my second life, there was only one thing in the world that made me even close to happy. And that was blood. The hunt, the consumption, the kill. The torment I felt as I took someone's life was bearable, but that was because the taste of their veins was pure bliss. But after every kill, I would return to my guilt and hopelessness. Why is it fair that I survive, as this monster, if innocent people must die for it?

This story continued for a year. And every day and every night, as my torture and captivity progressed, I started to think of Jasper more and more. How I envied his death; how his death at the hands of another human was truly a blessing. He never had to know about the dark, twisted world that existed alongside his. He never had to know the feeling of killing for survival, not war. He never had to see the monster that his beloved had become.

When the Civil War finally ended, something inside me changed. I began to wonder about Jasper's body. Had he been taken prisoner of war? Had someone found his injured body and carried him to safety? Or had he truly died, buried in a grave somewhere else?

Now that the war had ended, prisoners would be let go. Maybe if he were alive, he would go back to my town to find me?

I wanted out of this life. I wanted to go and see my beloved one last time. I needed to know if he was still alive, or at least, have some sort of closure if he was truly gone.

One night, after George had left to hunt, I made a break for it. I ran west, toward Texas. I was scared that George would come after me, but I was more scared that Jasper would return and I would not be there to see him.

After a couple days, I was still alone. George wasn't looking for me, or at least, hadn't caught me. I stole a new gown off one of my victims along the way, since mine was dirty from living in the wild for a year. I bathed quickly in a creek so my skin and hair looked clean. I was looking a little more like myself, like the me who had held onto Jasper as he had said his goodbyes.

But one of my problems was that I still looked too perfect. It helped that I was pretty to begin with so people might not notice too much. But it was the eyes I was worried about the most. My eyes were not crimson before. And it was not a normal color for a person's eyes. Not to mention what happened to me during the day- in the sunlight, my pale skin radiated like I was sprinkled with diamond dust. There was too much that could go wrong... And what was I to say to anyone if they approached me?

What would I do to them?

I cringed at the thought of killing someone I knew. I didn't want to hurt people anymore. I especially didn't want to kill someone I cared about.

So I decided to keep my distance. I would hide as well as I could, and watch from afar. If Jasper came back, I would try to talk to him... if I could bear it. I snuck toward town. It looked just like it had a year ago. So little had changed.

I quickly surveyed the area and climbed up the back of the saloon and into the attic. It was always full of storage boxes. The only person I needed to worry about finding me was the saloon owner, Mr. Burns. If I could avoid him and watch from the window, everything would be okay. I had filled myself with blood just before arriving, so my thirst wasn't a problem at the moment... thankfully. But who knew when it would return with all of these living people strolling along.

My chest panged with longing as I saw everyone walking around. It was about eleven in the morning, which meant that everyone was in full swing, running errands, doing business, enjoying the summer sunshine. There was Charlie, walking along with his wife. And there was Joe, waving to someone as they left his shop. Who was that he was waving to?

And then my heart, if it were beating, would have stopped. Walking slowly, carrying a bag of goods was my sister. Annabelle, my beloved sister. I missed her so much... in that moment I wished I was able to cry.

She looked so sad. She looked like she had lost so much. Well... she had. She'd lost me. I began to wonder what had happened after I'd been attacked. What did they say? That I'd run away, or that I had been murdered?

I watched her walk away until I couldn't see her anymore. I sat down on the floor quietly, lost in my thoughts.

Why had I come? It didn't matter if everyone in the entire world that I cared about was still here, still alive. I couldn't live amongst them, like everything was the same. I was a monster. I killed people to survive. I couldn't live a regular life, with normal things.

Monster. Monster. Monster. That was all I could think of as I watched the people below. Suddenly, I could hear the sound I dreaded most. Thud thud thud... the sound of their veins pumping began to echo in my ears and in my head. Drink the blood... drain them dry, my mind screamed.

I covered my ears, trying to drown out the sound of their hearts beating. No! I shouted in my head, you can't! You shouldn't! Go, get out of here!

Squeak, squeak, squeak... Someone was coming up the stairs to the attic.

I jumped up, battling the urge to run. I could kill whoever it was, get my fill, and run. I could do it so easily... No! Something inside me didn't want to do this... I didn't want to kill people. I didn't want to be a murderer... a monster...

Suddenly, I could see the head of none other than Joe Pratt walking up the stairs. He looked down the staircase and shouted, "Where is that box at?"

Mr. Burns shouted back up at him, "Near the window, I think. It should say 'Fabric' on it."

I panicked, slinking back against the wall, into the shadows. As Joe walked closer, his heartbeat was louder and louder in my mind.

No, not Joe! You can't hurt him...

I squeezed my eyes tight and tried to hold my useless breath. If I didn't inhale out of habit, maybe I wouldn't smell his blood...

Joe rifled through a box near where I had been standing. He pulled out a small piece of crinoline and tucked it under his arm. As he went to close the box, he nicked his finger on the edge of the lid. A very tiny amount of blood rose to the surface of his skin.

The smell hit me like a brick wall. No... no... no... no...

My body tensed, and I felt as if I might explode. I was fighting with every inch of my being not to move, not to hurt him... My body screamed to lunge forward and my mind screamed NO! It was like hanging off the edge of a cliff with weights on your feet...

Joe lifted the finger to his mouth and sucked the blood away.

And my body reacted in anger and temptation. I fell forward onto my hands and knees, making a loud crash. Joe's eyes snapped right to where I was. He couldn't see exactly who was there since I was in the dark, but he knew he wasn't alone.

"Who's there?" he said, a little worry lacing his voice.

I breathed through my clenched teeth, still fighting not to move. If he came closer, I might lose this battle...

"Who are you? What are you doing up here?" he repeated, about to take a step closer to me.

I spoke quickly. "No. Don't move."

His eyes grew wide with fear. "Who are you? You aren't supposed to be up here. I'm going to call the sheriff!"

"No!" I pleaded, trying to stand. "I'm... going. Just stay where you are."

The sound of my voice must have triggered a memory in Joe's mind. His face paled a little as he searched frantically with his eyes to get a better view of me in the dark corner.

"Elizabeth? Is that... you?" Of course Joe would recognize me. This man whom I had talked to for hours... he would know my voice, even as lilting and gentle as it sounded.

"Not... anymore." I whispered, gathering my courage. I ran and flew out the other window I had climbed through, still open. As soon as I landed on my feet, I took off as fast as I could, away from the smell of Joe's blood and even farther from my memories.