The dark figure looked at her and laughed. Melissa simply sunk down, collapsing on the floor as the werewolf tugged at her leg. She sighed, closing her eyes she tried her best to 'play dead.' Not exactly hard when you are dead. But the werewolf seemed to know her better than that. She kicked at the wolf with her spare leg. The wolf whined as she caught it's nose. She managed to get away slightly, running to the kitchen she searched through all the drawers. She rolled her eyes as she could find no sharp knives, the only thing that was sharp was a pair of rusted scissors. This apartment was useless for werewolf attacks.
She threw them eagerly as the wolf howled. But to no avail, they simply bounced off his muscular structure. She half knew they would. A blur, she ran full pelt past the wolf, hoping she was too fast for him.
"Lazarus! Stop this." She cried, running into the bedroom she closed the door, like it would stop him, then ran to open the window. Like everything it jammed. She pleaded with the window, as if it would open. Then. Smash. Shards of wood splintered across the room, she ducked as one of them nearly pierced her chest. "Lazarus!" She held out her hands in protest as the wolf prowled towards her, snarling. It leaned back on its haunches. Then pounced.
It pinned her to the ground, it's pale blue eyes staring into her own. She whimpered, but stared into them. Unblinking. "I give up." She sighed, as the werewolf hunched over her. It leaned forward. Its muzzle next to her neck. Something, somewhere making its movements softer. It snarled, opening its wide jaws. She placed a hand on one of its giant shoulders and smiled, closing her eyes.
For a moment her heart jumped. She waited to embrace her final death, but instead the snarls died down. The fur beneath her fingers turned to skin, the breathing became less animalistic. Yet still she dared not open her eyes. A tear rolled down her cheek, uncertain of what was happening and outside the laughter of her Sire died.
She opened her eyes slowly to see Lazarus' naked form over her, his mouth next to her neck, just as the wolf had been. She looked down, then quickly back up again. Closing her eyes. She was embarrassed by the sight now over her, but she still let out a long-drawn sigh. She would live, for now.
Her mind flicked back to a few hours before. The words she had spoken, all because of him. Her Sire. Everytime she saw him, or heard of him she instantly saw her mother being torn apart. The horrific scene juxtaposed with the sound of 'twinkle, twinkle little star.' She could not live with it any longer, Lazarus dreamt he was falling. She dreamt of that. The gory destruction of her life.