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“Annabelle?” His voice snapped me out of my memory. I opened my eyes and looked up at him. “Um. This is gonna hurt. A lot. Just, uh. You know. Warning you. And uh, think of something happier, okay? Something before that happened alright? Like, when Jenny was born, or something.” I smiled a little. I wasn’t exactly sure why. I guess I found it a little funny that a vampire was warning me that he was about to hurt me. I sighed.

“Okay,” I said as I closed my eyes once again. I concentrated hard on my little sister’s birth. I was so happy. Why couldn’t I be happier all the time?

I felt him moving closer to me. His breath was warm against my neck. I closed my eyes tighter and tried to remember every single detail. It wasn’t really working. Okay Annabelle. What time was it? I couldn’t remember. All I knew at that moment in time was that I felt the tips of his fangs just barely touching my neck. I had to think of something happier. What was happier than that, though? I racked my brain.

I remembered in the nick of time. The day when I first met him. I was four years old. It was probably a couple of years before Jenny was born. I was running down the street trying to escape the war that had just went on in my house. I couldn’t stand to see my father beating Mom like that. It was almost worse than being beaten, myself.

I ran as fast as I could. My feet falling in rhythm. One after the other, after the other, after the other. All the way to the end of Rookcork Ave. He was standing under the lamppost with his arms folded across his chest. He was staring at me as I ran. I didn’t notice. I was too busy concentrating on getting as far away as possible.

“Hey!” he shouted out. “Where’re you goin’?” I stopped running and looked at him funny. He just kept staring. I picked up my foot to start running again.

“Wait!” he exclaimed. “Come here. What’s wrong? Yer all beated up!” I put my foot back down and headed in the other direction; towards him.

“Yeah? So? So what if I’m beated up?” I asked. I knew the answer to that. But I was not the nicest four-year-old. He looked at me with those sad green eyes and replied, “Well, it’s bad to be beated up. Who did it? I’ll kill ‘em. Nobody should be makin’ you all beated up.” I took a step forwards.

“My daddy. He did it. But you can’t tell nobody! You can’t. ‘Cause Daddy would get real mad. And it would just happen some more. You can’t tell.” He looked at me with such pity in his eyes, I almost burst out crying. And saying that I was four at the time, I’m surprised I didn’t.
“I won’t tell nobody. I promise. So, what’s yer name?” he said putting his hand on my shoulder. “I’m Annabelle. And you are?” He smiled. “I like that name. Annabelle. It’s pretty.” I smiled too, for the first time in ages. “Well, Annabelle, my name is Jake.”

And suddenly I felt the venom rushing through my veins. I didn’t feel him do it, I just felt the after affect. It felt like I was dying. I felt my whole body go stiff. I clung onto the windowsill for dear life.



“Jake!” I cried out. I don’t remember doing it. But he said I did, so I believed him. He held me close as my body wrestled with the demon that he had injected in me. Apparently, I had been shaking violently, but that was another thing I’d have to take his word for. He stroked my hair.

“I like that name. Annabelle. It’s pretty.” He laughed. “Well, Annabelle, everything is going to be okay. After this is over, you and I will live for ages and ages to come. Won’t that be nice, Annabelle? We’ll live forever! Just like in those books I gave you. The ones with the vampires and stuff?” He laughed again. I willed him to keep talking with all the strength that I had left. I needed to hear his voice.

“Nobody should be makin’ you all beated up,” he said in voice almost identical to his four-year-old self. “Not even me, Annabelle. This is terrible what I’m doing to you. But you’ll live through it. I lived through it. And once it’s done, you can take a nice long nap. It’s going to so nice. You can get through this, okay? You can get through anything. You’re my warrior. You can do this.”

I don’t know how long that lasted. It was terrible. All I knew was that he started the process with the moon still high in the sky and now, with a last shudder, the sun was lighting the heavens above. I curled up into a ball with my head on his shoulder. The sun hurt. The sun was not supposed to hurt.

He looked down at me and smiled. “See? We got through that part. Now, time for the nap I promised you. You can have my bed. I’ll sleep under my parent’s bed. They’re away for two weeks, as I think I’ve mentioned before. No, don’t worry. None of the guys are here. Here. Let me help you,” he said holding out his hand. I took it, not failing to notice the black nail polish that had taken house there.

He helped me into the bed and underneath the sheets. He helped me position myself so that my face was facing as far away from the window as possible. One I was settled, he walked over and shut the window mumbling something about unnecessary sunlight. He then closed the curtain around it and put and extra sheet in front of it to keep out all of the sun. Then, he walked over to my bed and knelt to the ground. He swept my hair aside and kissed my cheek. “Goodnight, Annabelle,” he whispered. And with that, I fell asleep.