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Thicker than Blood

AU. Best friends are forever, but when Elizabeth's best friend disappears, the entire world will never be the same, and forever takes on a whole new meaning. Bella Swan
born in 1881
Died 1899
body never recovered How will the story change??

This was the Challenge by lions_lambs

4. Lost Control

Rating 5/5   Word Count 868   Review this Chapter

Laurent that was what he said his name was. Laurent. I found him where I had left him in the woods; he was waiting as he said he would. He had explained to me before why it had happened. The circumstances leading up to the moment where my heart stopped beating, and I no longer felt a need to draw breath past my parted lips. He had simply been walking down the street, hidden from curious eyes by being in plain sight. However the sun had come out from behind its cloud coverage around sun set. He had been forced inside a house, my home in order to hide. I had beseeched him to explain about the sun.

“Does it truly burn the flesh from bones on vampires?”

He merely chuckled at my ignorance. “You shall learn that all in good time, my dear.”

Laurent had offered me his company, as tutor and, as he put it, friend. Though something in the way his eyes would glance at me, I felt that the friendship he was looking for was not something I was willing to give. I left his company, understanding what it meant to be undead, and barely knowing what immortal really meant. I had no grasp of what an eternity was, or what forever would mean. I was barely 18 and now I had an impossible length of future ahead of me.

The thirst was horrific; I began to wonder if this is what a starving man felt as he begged for a mere morsel as those around him on the street eat without a second thought. The way his stomach must clench in on itself from emptiness and the scents of so many vendors hocking their wares close by, so that their fevered scents may tease him.

I often let my scenes control me, not realizing what was true except that the deranging elixir of blood was flowing down my throat, the fluid filling the hollow walls of my veins. I sputtered and coughed against the pounding drink but part of me, the savage wild part of me, gulped hungrily drowning in the crimson liquor. Sense would evade me until the last succulent drop had been licked from my lips, sedating the beast if for but a moment.

I glanced down at the now pale remains of my prey. I stumbled back as long trusses of blonde bronze hair become apparent upon the head of the victim. I pray to god it wasn’t Elizabeth I had so thoughtlessly killed. I slowly turned the body over. The sweet young face of a young girl, barely a decade in age stared back at me with lifeless eyes. I was repulsed with myself, but I told myself, one must eat to live. To live, the word stained my thoughts, mocking me, the one who is anything but alive.

The year was 1901. The century had come and gone. I had accepted what I was. I was something most people feared, I wasn’t human, I wasn’t alive, I wasn’t dead, I was the living dead, a vampire, a myth, a legend, and a killer, a thief, a liar.

I killed to feed, but that wasn’t what made me a murderer, it was the enjoyment that came as I felt their blood pour down my throat, as I heard their beating heart slow until it beat no more. I stole only from those I feasted upon; the dead had no need for belongings, or rather the buried dead. Clothes without the brown tell-tale stains of blood were necessary for blending in to society, or rather good society. I began to truly feel like the temptresses of night who so often graced the dark inscriptions of some tale, a demon of the night whose unearthly beauty makes it only that much simpler to steal the souls and blood of those they cast their will upon.

I had seen neither hide nor hair of any one I had known in the last two years. Though that didn’t mean I had left my life behind completely. I knew everything I need to about those I loved, I spied, and read the papers, keeping track of them in my own way. My dear father had retired from the police force and Widow Hansen was now living with him, caring for him in a way I had never been able to do in life. I only hoped that she had some how kept him from staying in that dark den endless nights, staring out into the world for his lost family to come home.

Elizabeth had left, and as I predicted it had been on the arm of Mr. Edward Mason as his wedded wife. Poor Elizabeth, she had still been in mourning and refused to have a big wedding, the kind she always described to me from her fantasies. I was somewhere in the mid East, but I was heading slowly in the direction of the north. I had to find Chicago, and be there for Elizabeth, my dearest friend, for I had heard some very stimulating news, she was expecting a child.