I can't really hate mornings, because I technically don't sleep. Even if I wanted to lay down, there's not much to do so on. This dark cave of an apartment no longer has the original furniture in it. Why have a kitchenette when I don't eat mortal food? Well, I did keep a beautiful love seat, and how else will I get my thigh high boots on?
To the naked eye, my place would be a freezing pit of inky darkness. But to me, it's comforting. It's the only place I can be calm and completely myself. As I searched through my mountainous closet for a suitable outfit, I caught a glimpse of light out of the corner of my eye.
Hissing, my hand flew lightening fast to my face, exposed to a single beam of morning sunlight. I jumped backwards, out of the line of exposure. I could have sworn I covered this place up tight! Snatching a nearby sun hat, smashing it down on my head, I headed to the source of light.
As I reached the self-rigged window, my sharp eyes caught a rip in the blackout. Tipping the hat downward and searching with razor-sharp focus I found what I was looking for. A human fingerprint. The memories from last night flew through my head, and I briefly considered Quitt. No, it must be that sleaze from the bar.
Well, looks like I found my first meal of the day. Now, I only had to fix that pesky window and wait out the sun.
(That night) Primped and looking flawless, I twisted the door handle a little to sharply on the way out. That resulted with it harmlessly falling in my hand. Now a twisted lump of metal,I tossed it into the side bushes. My frequent presence inside should drive most mortals away, anyways.
Strutting down the sidewalks of the city, I followed the scent of my peeping tom. Sniffing the cool air deeply, I headed farther and farther away from my apartment. As I roamed the bad side of town, I noticed more and more glances. Mostly the grubby men, but also some snide looks from the women.
Once or twice, when a wandering hand snaked around my bare thigh, I hissed and the perpetrator moved away quickly. The uncomfortable burning in my throat only got worse as each person passed closer and closer. But I knew their blood would taste horrid, and non-satiable. So, I kept sniffing the air, when I smelt it.
I was in front of a run down bar, and the stalkers scent let around back. It seems that I caught him during a smoke break, as I silently but casually walked up behind him. Several scenarios ran through my head. And I chose one I thought would be particularly interesting.
I mean, my mom is long gone. It's not like she's here to tell me "Don't play with your food, sweetie." Not as if she would speak to me any longer, let alone call me sweetie again. I'm no longer her darling little girl. I'm a cold blooded predator.
No pressure, no diamonds. -AnimeVampire05