When Sarah entered her room that night, she expected to do nothing more than bask in self pity, isolating herself for the rest of the day.

At least what was left of it, what with the sky turning a darkish purple shade in a sort of mockery or a sunset. Sadly, it was the closest WhiteChapel ever really got to beautiful sunsets- with the dreary weather and gray skies occupying the town for the majority of its days.

Her parents were never home by this time, usually being at work, and even then they usually spent the majority of their time out of the house when they were off.

This being said, what Sarah was not expecting was to come home to a small envelope on her bed, with a red rose delicately placed beside it.

It couldn't be Valentine's day, for it was only the end of summer- school started up in a matter of days. And Sarah was a taurus, her birthday falling in the middle of May, but it was the end of August and they were in Virgo season.

None of her friends would have done this, it wasn't suitable for any of their characters to pull this type of stunt. Especially without reason. Besides, none of them even knew…

So…who had?

Dropping her things on the chair by her vanity, she walks towards her bed to inspect it.

It wasn't signed, but it was sealed with a ruby red wax seal. A simple yet telling touch that only served to confuse her more.

Carefully opening it, she sees a letter written in a beautifully skilled cursive, in black ink.

My dearest Sarah,

You might try your hardest to distance yourself from who you are, but as long as we both live, I'll be here to remind you that you are so much more. You can be mad, you can sulk for the next few centuries or so, but eventually I know you'll see reason. I can wait. We have all of the time in the world.

Happy birthday, my fair fledgling. To a full year of you becoming one of us, and to hundreds more to come.

Love , Your dear Maker

-Jesse Black

And so her plans of sulking for the rest of the night were over. Instead, she would stress. Stress and obsess over the letter, the fact that he was in her room. Her bed. That he had the audacity to leave her a red rose, although she'd told him white was her favorite. Surely, it was symbolic. His sick way of really driving the point home that she would now be forever tainted. No more the pure girl she once was.

She needed to shower. Holding the letter made her feel dirty. Reading the words that reminded her that this very day a year ago, she'd let him access the slope between her head and chest. Her neck on full display, although the intentions were far from the idea that she was going to be bitten and turned into an undead creature of the night.

The Sarah then would have laughed if she could see her now. It was just like Dusk, right? Just a fun little fantasy with no stakes, no pain, no one getting hurt.

But she supposed she wasn't that same girl anymore. In his own way, Jesse was right.

She wasn't the same and she never would be, and it wasn't just her supernatural status that was to blame.

She would never be that same naive girl again. Not if she could help it.

Having half a mind to burn the letter with the rose accompanying it, she takes them both in her hand to go downstairs- before flinching when she felt a sharp prick on her finger.

Looking, she sees the dark ruby color pooling on her pointer finger, dripping down as the wound closed (thanks to vampire healing).

It slid down from its place on her skin, falling in droplets down onto the white paper. And it was either by some stroke of cruel fate, or dramatic irony, that a heart formed from the very life force rushing through her veins, tainting her very being.

God she hated him for it. She hated him for making her second guess herself, making her think he knew her better than she did. But there he was, in her head again. Ruling her mind just as he did when they were together, and doing it now even when they weren't.

As much as she hated herself for it, she could not burn it, or even throw it away. Tucking it away in an old box full of old gifts and knick knacks he'd given her, she sighs as a tear rolls down her face.

She should have known. No one knew about August 24th but her and her maker, and its moments like this that she starts thinking that maybe he does know her better.

Because while this date meant nothing to the old Sarah, it meant everything to her now.

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