Sierra PoV

My eyes flutter open, the first view I discern is a congestion of traffic on both sides of highway. The rowdy noise didn't wake me up, but a sudden sense of panic did. After a few seconds of being completely absorbed by a dreadful consciousness, I still can't be aware of my location or how we are motioning forwards at a sluggish pace.

"Living in America! Eye to eye, nation to nation! Woo!" I can hear someone very adjacent to me practically screaming out, the soulful voice of James Brown singing with them in the background. "Move, dude! I've got too many vampires to kill and not enough time on my hands!" I hear a hoarse voice bellow to my right, the wind trapping most of what exited his mouth. It's then, I realise a boy with honey blonde hair is sitting on my lap – driving.

"Get off" I mutter in a drowsy voice, my voice barely audible as my glands feel sore. The leather jacket belonging to Michael, in which Sam loaned me to shield me from the sun, is soon layered with a blanket provided to me also by Sam as before we abandoned the ranch house segregated from the vast majority of Santa Carla's population, I continued to feel freezing, like my body's temperature was playing games in the Californian heat.

As I drape it around me, my slender fingers tremble, the nonstandard arctic iciness covering me. Not even the lime green thick wool blanket can insulate me. After my verbal command to Edgar, I decide to retreat as I can't be bothered with protesting any longer. I leave him on my lap, allowing him to drive without another word mentioned.

"Sierra, I'm going to get you a cup of tea or warm milk when we get home, and I'm going to call your dad" Sam notifies me, giving me a clement smile. Though I wish to help them do whatever they are scheming, somehow, I can't find it inside of me to even debate his choice over what I will be doing. I don't like it in the slightest, but I don't have enough energy to disagree. God, this is so not me. What's happening to my persistence?

-

Beside me on the decorated rug is a bright yellow bucket as the vampire in me was determined earlier not to consent any food humans consume, and so, forced it back up again. Sam made an effort to provide me with warm low fat milk three times, each time the contents, or lack of it, shooting up and out of me. Since we got back, I had slept only a few hours, awakening due to the rapid climate alterations, starting with the sudden winter before progressing onto a blistering summer, until the cycle became frequent. I want blood, I know I have to drink it before I end up killing myself or causing severe damage. I can't believe I'm actually yearning to do it – to make that first kill. Currently, I am snuggled on the sofa with about five woollen blankets enveloped around me. I'm beginning to get a little warmer, which is a good indication I'm getting better. I tasted blood about thirty minutes prior to now – the animal blood that Sam gave me this morning – but, like the warm milk, the vampire clawing my insides rejected it, and so released it in a hasty motion, all over the kitchen sink. One thing I didn't allow the boys was to clean it up. It was mortifying to say the least, but I can't help it. Whilst I slept, the boys managed to set up traps, lethal to a vampire, around the house. Garlic water, water guns filled to the brim with holy water, you name it, they included it in the death trap.

Soon, I am to be moved to the basement where I can sleep for the rest of the night as Sam couldn't contact my father and I couldn't remember the phone number or address. I don't want to fight Max off, I haven't got the strength for it. Suddenly, David and the others burst in, accepting the reluctant invite from Sam. David says something sarcastic towards me, to which I just ignore and slip my eyes to a close. Before I can travel into a blissful dream, I hear a click of the fingers, and open my eyes again to see Edgar and Alan shaking their heads at me in condemnation, like I'm forbidden from sleeping. Simply, I roll over with a rush of vertigo sprinting through my mind, away from them and towards the sofa cushions.

"Wake up, Half-Vampiro! You can sleep downstairs!" Edgar snaps, earning a weakened middle finger belonging to me, emerging from above the many blankets before flopping down again. I would shout at them, but my vocal chords would most likely be destroyed in the attempt as all anyone can hear of my voice is a muffled croak. "No sleeping!"

"Piss off" I uncomplicatedly growl, not happy with someone interfering with my sleeping desire. There are heavy footsteps coming down the stairs, my scarcely opened eyes noting the dark curls from above the circular sofa cushions. I was going to say hello, but then, I decide against it as I swallow, razor blades slashing at my throat with an invisible trace of the damage.

Am I really considering relinquishing to this monster? I can't live like this, would it be healthier for me to just accept it and go? Even the most stubborn of people have their limits, and not being able to be independent, others doting on me, is something I despise, and is a hard limit for me. Will I be a vampire tonight or a human? Right now, I know which one I'd rather be. I get up, rebutting the help from Edgar and Alan, overhearing Sam give Michael a list of what is ailing me: Tonsillitis, a screwed up temperature and throwing up every time I try to consume something other than human blood. Suddenly, I am stopped with someone grabbing my hand. I turn. It's Edgar. What does he want?

"Sierra, I've got something I want to say to you" I raise my eyebrow, confused at this. I peer down at his hand holding mine. Oh God, this is so wrong.

"If you get down on one knee, I'm going to be incredibly disturbed" I mutter, continuously glancing down at his hand. He's the twin of my brother. I am so hoping this isn't classed under incest.

"I'm not into marriage or dating you, although you are the hottest vamp I've seen" My jaw drops. Oh my God. No way. This is not good at all.

"Do you realise how wrong this is?" I exclaim. Can I just go to sleep and never wake up, like, now? "Dude, this is so not right"

"You're the hottest girl I've seen! Even my dad agrees!" That whole sentence just made everything worse. I think I might just have to throw up. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

"I'm going to puke now" I casually indicate Edgar of my unease, gesturing to the bathroom. "Do you mind letting go of my hand or would you prefer me puking all over it?"

"Yeah, I suppose I should. I wasn't making a move or anything" My inner self huffs an elongated sigh of relief. Thank God for that. Edgar releases my hand and I can see he is holding a stake in his hand.

"Plus, I know a certain guy who would kill you for making advances towards his luuurrrve interest!" Alan cackles, collapsing onto the sofa in laughter as Edgar suddenly becomes alert.

"Oh yeah, who? I'll rip their heads off, I'll scrap 'em, I'll punch their lights –" Edgar barks, throwing his fists up in a karate style. I wish he'd shut up. I turn around to go into the basement with the blanket slung over my shoulder.

"Right behind you" I hear Alan comment behind breathless laughs.

"Right!" Edgar yells as I go down the stairs. "Get ready for an ass whooping of a lifeti-" he pauses for a long time, and after that long time, I hear him titter nervously. "That was very awkward timing. I just think she's hot, nothing more!"

I roll my eyes, entering the dim lit room inundated with antique items, including the uncanny taxidermy. Soon, I find an old sofa and walk over it. When I reach it, I slump down on it with an exhausted groan, grasping three things within my bag: The Great Gatsby book, The Beatles cassette and my Walkman where the earphones are already plugged in. I'm so tired and whilst I want company, by the end of tonight, I may not have the company I want.