...A fire- a fire within my heart. It burnt scornfully. I opened my mouth to scream. But the echoes that rebound in my head pained me- as if to scream was fire itself. I didn't want to hurt. But it hurt so much already, inside. It was like the fire had burnt out my heart, and consuming still my other resources I required in order for me to survive. I did not want to feel- let alone think like this; but it was difficult. The pain- no, the fire, was all that I was conscious of. I could see it- the orange tinted flames that slapped at me... and then I heard him... the angel...;

"Miss Brandon?" his perfect voice was music to my ears, "Miss Brandon, what's wrong? Wake up. Miss Bra- Mary... Alice?"

My eyes shot open. My vision was blurred, but I could make out a clouded shape in front of my face. I rubbed my eyes slightly, so I could see properly. I chagrined; it was not the Angel, who had favourably lured me from my slumber. Instead, a pale, chalky skinned man hovered anxiously above me, inches from my face. His expression twisted from fretful, to shock- and then to relief in a matter of seconds.

"Thank goodness, you are alright," he sighed, then crawled backwards, so that he was no longer hovering over me, "you looked as though you were having some kind of seizure!" he sighed again, and scratched his head meditatively.

I sat up and peered around. We were in some kind of room. It was quite dark, and the floor boards were damp and wooden. There were no windows that I could see, let alone a door. The only light was projected from a single candle, which hardly kept the shadows in the corners, as they danced in unison with the flames. We must be in some kind of cell, the voice in my head whispered, there seems to be no way of anyone, or anything getting out ... or in!

I shuddered- and not because of the cold.

I turned to the man, whom was now up on his feet and pacing around like some kind of cat... a cougar, perhaps. I studied him intensely: Apart from very opaque skin, he was quite tall and seemed to be in his late-twenties, perhaps thirties. He wore straight white-blonde hair that covered eyes slightly, a long leathered jacket, and frayed boots. His skin was very chalk-like, and looked as though it would crumble if it were to be touched. Yet, apart from that, he was very attractive. However, that was only half of why I was staring at his cloudy silhouette so intensely; I recognised him: he had been working at the asylum that I had been confined to. We had met before- in fact, I think we were friends... we are friends.

I think he had noticed that I had been gaping at him, for he paused and faced me- he seemed concerned.

"Miss Brandon-"he said quietly "I give you my apologies Miss, but I had no other options, it was the only way," what did he mean? No options...The only way...this is suspicious.

Suddenly, our eyes met. I gasped; his eyes were pools of shocking crimson. His eyes widened in surprise to my action. I realised I was probably being rude. There was probably nothing at all wrong with him. For all I knew he could be an albino- yes, he was- pale skin, pale hair, red eyes- yes, he was an albino, he must be. But, I had never met anybody like this before him.

"Oh, I'm sorry...ermm..." I began to apologise, but I soon realised I didn't know- couldn't Remember his name- that if he had one at all.

I looked down solemnly at my dress-skirt- which was now severely torn and ragged like a mop. How could I not remember his name, if he was my friend- and it was surely a big if- I was surely a dire one.

"My name is George Roger Davidson," he said, a smile forming at the left side of his lip curve into a half smile, "Miss Brandon I-"

"Please, call me Alice," I said glumly, and looked back down at my kilt. Alice is my middle, and foremost favourite name I own.

"Well then, Alice" he- George- continued, "I'm not surprised you forgot who I was, Miss Bra- Alice. We haven't known each other all that long, and, well, you have had an awful lot on your mind- with all those visions you have-"

THE VISIONS, WHAT DID HE KNOW ABOUT MY VISIONS, the voice in my head screamed feverishly- yet, I only managed to choke out the single word, "Visions?"

He seemed to understand, and laughed, "I just used to be like you, wake up from dreams so real that they seemed too true, but, you as an individual are stronger than I was, and I am proud that someone like you exists, and I know you'll be strong."

I cocked my head to one side; what he mean by 'I know your be strong'. I was confused enough as it was already, let alone this. Suddenly there was one question pulling at my tongue, and this time I would not resist.

"What's going on?" I demanded, "And I want straight answer, so get to the point!!"

My voice wasn't very loud- yet I'm sure it had been clear enough, for George let out a deep sigh and looked down at where I sat, avoiding eye contact; his smile was sad.

"Alice, I don't want to discuss this with you, yet- I don't think your ready-"

"Discuss What!?" I screeched as loud as my voice could cope. Suddenly, I found myself pushing my petite body off of the damp floor boards- only to stand level to his chest height. I glared into his eyes, so hard he was finding it difficult to shun them. "What do you mean? - I asked what was going on- of course I'm ready!" then, in a serene voice, I asked "please, tell me what is going on?"

He sighed for the final time, then- in a blur, he was stood- no, crouching, so that he was level with my ear. And, so quietly- barely that of a whisper, he asked the question- the question that would, somehow, change my life forever:

"Alice, do you believe in Vampires...?"

...Something told me then, that I would not live to remember this day.

Thankyou for reading. it might not be that good, but please don't copy it. And thanks to my friend, whom let me use his name- like Stephinie Meyer, whom wrote 'twilight'.