Sorry for not updating earlier, and sorry for spelling and /or grammar mistakes!
I wake up to sunlight. Luckily, The forest is covering most of it. I climb down the tree, careful not to slip, and start thinking. I wonder if my mother was like me, if she was evil. I don't know what to expect from me anymore. Would my mother be happy I am a dark person, or will she tell me to become more forgiving, not kill every person on site? Suddenly, I feel a bouced off my sturdy back. But it doesn't hurt me, it only makes me laugh. It didn't give me even a paper cut. But it did remind me of my pure evil. No matter what Clarie does, that is, if she even comes for me, won't matter.
I am pure evil, nothing can change me. I only know that my mother's name is Claire, there is such a thing as a Glass House, and that's it. No memory whatsoever. In a way, I like it that way. I have no fear, just be who I want to be- I want to be evil. I am down the tree now, and I decide to drop the disguise. I look deadly in the soft grey moonlight, and I once again extend my fangs to full length. I look at my reflection in a pool of water, and notice my hair is long. I pick up a sharp stone and cut it. My brown hair falls just below my shoulders.
I don't want to admit it, but I'm scared. Are vamps supposed to be fearless, or scared? Are they vicious, like me, or are they calm, and peaceful? I need something to control my craving of blood, no, someone. I need somebody, anybody. I don't know anything. I am helpless. Why am I this way? Why am I so cruel?
Because I just am. I'm born that way. The answer hits me square in the face. It's just bad luck. It is. I've always had bad luck, I was born with it. Now that I think about it, I remember an evil face peering down me right after I was born, then placing a hemlock flower next to my nose. I smelled fumes, poisonous fumes, but I breathed it in without a regret. I didn't even cry. Right after that, I remember Claire running to me, saving me from the woman, the evil one. But it was too late, I had already breathed in the fumes. Claire had believed I was dead, but I was in a trace. She had placed me into a basket and placed it in the water.
Oh. My. Lord.
That was my story. That was my history, my past. Now it all makes sense. I was born to die, believed to die, why don't I?
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