A nineteen year old girl moves out of the her small town to the city where she discovers a whole new world hiding beneath. A world of vampires, shapeshifters and other supernatural creatures.
I sighed and looked up from the useless diary my uncle had given me. Everybody was always giving me new ones, but I could never keep it for more then a few days, my life was just too boring. It seemed to me that it, my life that is, was on repeat. Everyday was the same. Sighing again, I stared out the window at the rain that had started to fall. I watched a droplet run down the glass. For once, the weather seemed to be reflecting the way I felt. I wanted out of this miserable existence of a life I led here.
For me, a typical day consisted of get up, have breakfast, get dressed, yawn, sit brain-dead on the couch for ten minutes, get up off the couch, brush hair and teeth, wander aimlessly around the house for half an hour. By this stage it is usually around noon so I would have lunch. I would then put on my shoes and go visit friends and/or relatives and go to the shops. About 4:00pm I would return home, remove my shoes and watch TV. Well, you get the picture. My. Life. Is. Boring. I wanted change. But if I knew then how much more interesting my life was going to get, I would have kept one of those stupid diaries. Believe me. I drifted into the memory. It was so clear that it felt like the present.
“Victoria!” My mother called from down the hall. She never used my nickname,Vicky or Vics. No, with her, she always had to use the name she gave me. I didn’t even like it that much. But then again, who likes their name? Not many that I knew of, but there would be a few.
“Coming!” I shouted, wondering what she wanted me for now. I laid down my pen and stood up. The pen rolled, falling off the table. I didn’t bother picking it up. I would get it later. I walked down the narrow and carpeted hallway into the kitchen. Immediately a smell crept up into my nose. I sniffed at the scent, trying to place it. Muffins. Mum was making muffins. “Victoria, do you think you can watch these for me while I do something?” “Sure mum.” My thoughts drifted from the delicious smelling muffins as my mother walked out of the room. I wanted a place of my own. Possibly in the city where I an make a start for myself. Staying in our small little community would be useless. I couldn’t get a job here. At the moment I was nineteen years old, out of work and living with and relying on my parents. It was making my life miserable.
A sharp ringing brought me back to my senses. I grabbed an oven mitt and opened the door that was between me and that glorious smell. The muffins looked perfect. Golden in colour, not burnt or under cooked in the slightest. And soft. They looked so soft, oh so soft. There was nothing worse then dry and crumbly muffins. Actually, there probably was, not that I could think of any at the time. Putting the muffins on top of the oven, I turned. ‘Right,’ I decided to myself ‘I am telling mum and dad that I am shifting out.’ I marched firmly forward towards the door, heading for the lounge room. I called for a family meeting.
My parents were seated. I was standing in front of them. I knew what I wanted to say, but yet, I didn’t. I wanted to say that I was moving out of the house, getting a place for myself in the city. But I didn’t knowhow to tell them. I didn’t want them to take it the wrong way.
“Mum,” I said finally, glancing at her “Dad.” My eyes flickered across to him. “I-I’m moving out.”
“‘Bout time.” Said dad, earning an arm-slap from mum.
“I’m moving to the city.” I told them. I wished they would say something. Surely it would be better then this ugly silence I was enduring now. “I’ll stay in contact!”
“Why?” Asked my mum.
“Well…” I faltered, “I need work. I can’t get that here. There are plenty of jobs in the city.”
“You can’t go!” My mum looked at me pleadingly.
“I have to.” I said sadly, without looking at her. I couldn’t afford to change my mind. Not now. Looking at her hurt expression would just make me fall victim. But I couldn’t help it. My eyes were moving of their own will, jerking upwards to meet my mother’s sad puppy dog eyes.
“Please don’t!” She said. I was choking on tears. Why was deciding to move out so painful? I ran from the room, wishing that my parents supported my decision more. Tears streamed down my face, an unstoppable flow of salty water.
I ran into my room, slamming the door behind me. I grabbed an empty box from underneath my small, single bad and started cramming and shoving my belongings in it. I had to go. I had to. I filled up the box and ran out of the room, towards the storeroom to get another one. I crashed into my father.
“Sorry.” I grunted and started walking again. I stopped as something suddenly grabbed my arm I jerked around.
“I know your mum doesn’t want you to go, but if that’s what you want, I say go for it.” He said, pulling me into a tight hug. I just stood there surprised. He held me in his arms not letting go. Then his arms went limp. He started slipping to the floor but I caught him.
Suddenly I noticed the small puddle of red forming at his feet. My hands. They were so wet. I grasped him, trying to stop the flow of blood. Trying to stop his life from slipping through my fingers. I didn’t know what happened. I sat there on the floor, my dad cradled in my arms. I tried to remain calm, but I couldn’t. How could this have happened? So quick, so sudden. The tears were sliding down my face. Slowly at first, while I was still trying to stop them. But as soon as the first one leaked out, the rest came in a flood. I was helpless, sitting in a small pool of my fathers blood while he lay, so close to death. As the tears started to recede, I truly noticed what happened for the first time. I lifted my hands, they were stained red. I screamed. It was a scream of shock, of horror and of helplessness. The scream mingled with sobs and tears.