Anger, pain and confusion.


How dare he? Who the hell does he think he even is? Telling me what to do. I think to myself as I pace the room, head down in thought.

I loose control and force my fist into the side of one of the walls, next to the hidden door. The door looks like a part of the wall. I rub my fist with the other hand, cursing at the pain.

This room I'm in, is mine. It's not my bedroom, it's another. One where no one else can enter. Only me. Two alcoves full of books, most leather backed, others cardboard and paperbacks. A roaring fire sits in the middle an ivory mantel piece stands around it - sure ivory's now illegal to get, but it wasn't one hundred and fifty years ago.

A red velvet double seat sits opposite the fireplace, a green velvet armchair with curvy legs and smooth feet squats next to it in a ninety degree angle. A dark coffee table is placed inbtween the gap of the chairs, an empty bottle of beer looking sorry for itself stands sheepishly at the corner of the table. The walls are deep red on top, and have dark wooden pannels below them.

I sigh, falling into the armchair, which is now nicely alcoved with my shape in it. This room hasn't always been mine, there's no way on this planet that I would have collected enough books, it use to belong to the recently deseased leader, Edward, of this 'pack' if you will. He died, whispering the location of this place in my ear before he died.

Bloody night hunters.

The night hunters, yeah, I know, our names aren't the most imagnitive, but hey! what are y' gunna do? The night hunters are our opposites, they hunt us. The baddies. They hunt and kill us, like we do to them. Sometimes they want to 'talk' to us, to create a pact or something. It never works out though. Either we kill them before they can think twice. Or they kill us, like they did to Edward.

I pick the strands of the armchair. My thoughts turning back to Maloria. Wh- There's something about her, something different. She's not the same as when we were kids, that's for sure. It's like... Like she's matured... Her hair is thicker and shinnier, her eyes almost... Brighter, bluer. They show so much, but so little. One thing for sure, I know how much she thinks she likes me, and how she's hiding something. Something big.

Her smile lights up in my mind, making me smile. I frown shaking it out of my head, but it comes back stronger.

Athanasios' head flys into my mind, combating Maloria's smile. 'If you had a brain, you'd treat Maloria with respect, you scum bag. If you ever make her cry... I mean, ever, you will suffer. Now pay attention to her, she will needed for our on coming fights.' He had said to me.

His words didn't sink in, all that came over was anger. Hatred. Annoyance. Then, I thought about Maloria. What does Athanasios want? Does he really love her? What about me? What do I want?

When she looked at me, I felt things which I hadn't in such a long time.

I force myself up again, pacing around yet again. I sigh, walking to a stero on a dark sideboard. I press play, classical music floats around the room. I flop onto the double chair and sleep.

The End

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