1 My very short life

Well we have all had that one time when suddenly, out of nowhere, comes a terrible pain in your back. Haven't we? Oh you haven't? My mistake. I just assumed that people would know how it feels to be stabbed in the back. If you don't, count yourself lucky. You have led a very sheltered life. Unfortunately I don't have that privilege. You want to know why? I am the child of two creatures who should stay far, far away from each other. My father is a vampire and my mother is a werewolf. I know your thinking, "OMG she's so lucky. She gets both of those super powerful creatures blood in her." Well let me tell you, it is not that great when you can't be accepted into a pack because of your vampire genes, and you can't get accepted into a clan because of the whole wolf issue(BTW you don't howl at the moon every time it's full. That stuff is way overrated).

But anyway, on my twenty first birthday guess what happened? Well I thought that I had finally found acceptance somewhere. I thought that I had found my mate. Hah. I was so naive then. His name was Peter James Qinn. He was so sweet at first. I was alone at the pub drinking my sorrows away. Last time in any life that you'll hear of me doing that.

He came up to me and said hi. He was the first person to do that in I don't know how long. I was aware that I was beautiful. Everyone told me so when I was young and I of course believed them. Who wouldn't want to believe that. I thought that Peter had seen how I had gently but firmly let all the hopeful suitors down. I thought that the reason he decided to come over to me in the first place was because of my beautiful ebony curls and that he might end up professing his love for me at first sight. Well he did. In the cheesiest of ways I might add. It was cute though and that was what won me over. I thought that he might actually be sincere.

We spent most of the night talking, and because I was so completely hammered, I let him take me back to his hotel room. When we got there, his friends were there.

Danger. My mind told me.

Why didn't I listen to it? If I had, maybe I could have turned in time to avoid being given the drink laced with holy water and powdered silver. That's right. Those bastards decided to give me a drink that one sip of could leave me dead. But I drank it, for some reason feeling so thirsty that I would have drank anything given to me. He must have spiked my drink earlier with something. Or was even the bartender in on this little charade? I wonder now.

As soon as I took a sip, my body went limp. Pete just laughed as he watched me fall to the ground. He called his buddies and they all converged on me. Too late I realised what was happening. I couldn't respond to anything but they ravaged me and defiled me anyway. They had made sure to put the doses of deadly substances in the drink high enough that I would not be able to scream for help, but low enough that I could feel everything and I would not die immediately. Instead they decided to give me a slow and painful death. At the end of the torture, I finally passed on, embracing the welcome release of the darkness.

I was weightless, drifting through the air. And finally I heard a voice. Two voices actually. Two that I recognised though it had been nineteen years since I last heard them. My mother and father.