I went home. I couldn't let myself cry in front of people, I mean, who in the world cries blood? Apart from me? No one, that's who. I sighed and slammed my bedroom door. Hope was out, where I had no idea. I was glad that she wasn't there, but at the same time, I didn't want to be alone. I have no idea how long I lay on my bed for, alone, but I heard Hope come home. I heard her tell me she'd leave my dinner in the microwave, I heard her go to bed early as she was tired.

Then I picked up a shard of the broken mirror and flinched at my reflection. My face pale, blood stained by my own tears, my lips a reddish brown colour and my eyes black, fuelled in their colour by the intensity of my emotions.

I remembered a time when I liked my reflection, the only other time I could remember looking at it. It was mum's opening night for the refurbished pie shop. We had to dress nicely, all of us. I looked in the mirror then. I liked what I saw. I actually liked how I looked. I wasn't as pretty, my skin wasn't as pale, my hair not as shining and my curves not as defined, but I liked what I saw. I was looking in the mirror in our living room type effort. Mum had been watching me, I smoothed the corset of my dress, and turned to ask her what I was meant to be doing that evening, but she was already watching me, she had tears in her eyes.

'What's wrong, mum?'

'You're beautiful, love, that's all.' She wiped her eyes, 'don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise and don't you ever change!'

Now I remembered that and it was my turn to cry. Again. I hated it. I looked at myself and I HAVE changed. I look ghostly, dead. And I was alone. I was hungry. I could smell Hope's blood from the other room so I went out. I put the white dress on again, I didn't dare look in the mirror again, I knew it would only accentuate my pale skin and contrasting dark hair.

I was lost in my own world as I walked down the street; I was heading back for the homeless peoples' hang out this evening. There had been no mention of a dead homeless man being found in the news, so I took it that, if he HAD been found, they'd put it down to suicide, as I'd hoped.

I didn't get as far as the homeless peoples' place of choice however. An intoxicated man staggered towards me halfway down Fleet Street.

'You alright, darlin'?' He slurred, 'you offering, a nice girl like you.'

I stopped to face him.

'Woohoo! You danger! Come here then darlin', let's have a bit!'

I let him walk closer, thinking he was going to get some. I blocked the rest of the world out, and that was probably why, when I sprung at him, I didn't hear the sound of anyone coming up behind me. Only when they were so close I could smell their familiar smell and hear their sharp intake of breath did I stop and turn. The drunken man twitched and blood gushed from my puncture marks. I faced my stalker. And froze.

'Pearl' I couldn't help it. 'What. The. Shit.'

'I followed you.' That was quite unnecessary. I'd already worked that out.

'Why?'

'I wanted to know what you were doing…' Her eyes flickered to the man on the ground, her face went white.

'Why?' I repeated it.

'I've had…suspicions since I first saw you. You seem so much older, an adult trapped in a child's body and…' She paused and I saw a laugh flicker across her face '…you're really pale. And when you ate the toffee, and with Brook and your hair with the blood and-'

'Now you see why we can't be friends?'

'No. Why can't we?'

'Pearl.' I looked around; I was still gobsmacked that she didn't get it. 'This is a secret you were never meant to find out. You CAN'T know it…' Horrible realization hit me as I trailed off at the end.

'I do.' She said it bravely. Pearl, always brave.

'It's too dangerous, Pearl. I could hurt you.'

'But you won't.'

'How do you work that one out, love? Look at what I just did!' I sighed. 'No one can know.' I waited for her to understand my implications, and I got ready to attack.

'You could have hurt me earlier at the park; you could have already hurt me now: but you haven't.'

'No. It's not been easy,' My guard dropped, I laughed a little. Not a nice laugh, or even a genuine one, but an ironic sound full of hundreds of years of bitterness.

'I trust you.' She came closer, to stand in front of me, by the body which was still leaking and twitching, I hadn't drank my fill.

'Pearl, you are taking a big risk here!'

'You're not supposed to know this, Pearl; it's a secret and a bloody dangerous one at that!'

'I can keep a secret.' She withdrew something shining silver from her pocket. 'Give me your hand. The one you cut earlier.'

'No. Why?'

'I'll go first, then.' She drew the object across her hand, from the blood that seeped from the gash it made, I worked out it was a blade. I could smell it. Strong, young, clean.

'Are you stupid.' It wasn't a question. She was pushing it.

'Maybe. Give me your hand.' When I didn't move, 'come on Anna, gimme it!'

I stretched my arm out towards her, struggling with all my power not to reach out and grab her wrist, drink her life.

She ran the blade across the line of the cut. It didn't hurt me. My own blood formed small droplets, slowly. Pearl took my bloody hand in hers and we shook.

'What…' I started.

'It's a promise.' Said Pearl, 'I promise to keep your secret.'

I blinked back tears as I made my own promise.

'I promise to keep you safe.'