Two
1240 Words
Journal Francesca DragonSpire
Dear Diary,
Alert the media! I am still alive. The parentals are liars! What a revelation! Poppa has a human friend. I didn’t see that coming. She’s so lovely; I like her. I will write later.
Ps. remind me to talk with my mother. Use a cricket bat for emphasis. Frankie DS
Being a pre-transient vampire was not all it cracked up to be. For starters, Grandma said the transition hurts. I had been afraid of that. I read enough Christine Feehan books to have my transition freak- out meter reaching a solid nine-point three. Getting my fangs also equals major hormone overload for a whole year after my transition, this was sadly lacking from my education as well, Casper already knew this her mother explained it. Grandma wasn’t happy with my parents for my lack of preparation.
After the transition, I am to continue to go to school, even with the super hormones. Which I might add, I was to start tomorrow. School. Not the hormones. Like it or not! The family were right! Grandma is EVIL!
After dinner, Casper showed me to my new room, which was across the hall from hers. I was in heaven. My bed was about the same size as my room back at the parentals. It had four thick black carved posts on the corners holding up a canopy of black and red lace and satin, attached to the wall up near the thirteen-foot ceiling. The windows were stone casement; the glass was a beautiful Smokey leadlight. There were about twenty of them lining two walls of my room. Grandma had given me a corner room.
“Look at all those windows. I am going to fry!” I cried franticly. Eyes wide I turned to Casper.
“Don’t worry about the sun, the shutters come down in about five minutes, they are on an automatic timer,” Casper called from the doorway. Thank the Gods for modern technology.
“My shutters, this is so cool. At the parentals, I had to sleep under the bed; apparently, they could not afford to put shutters on my windows.” I called weakly after my near-death experience. I did not see the expression of horror on my cousin’s face. I spun around in a slow circle, stopping when I spotted a doorway half across the room. Filled with anticipation and unbridled glee, I walked into my very own bathroom. Engraved on almost every surface were little pictures. I was too excited to figure out what they were before I ran back to the door. Casper was waiting. I beamed. Casper started laughing as I came into view, though her eyes, haunted. I did not bother to ask why; I figured she was still thinking about her dream.
“I know, I know, I did the same when I first saw my room. It’s so; cool, right” Casper indicated all the furnishings with a wave of her hand. I heard a whisper-soft rattling followed by a dull thunk. I turned to see the big steel shutters closing over my windows. Pity, I would have loved to see the coming dawn. No, I do not have a death wish. I loved the colours reflecting on the clouds. It was beautiful. Giving myself a mental shake, I looked back at my cousin, frowning.
“Why does Selene tell horrible stories about people? We’re her family; does she hate us that much?” I asked quietly, hoping my voice would not carry, and Grandma would not hear.
“I don’t know much. I heard Aunt Selene, and Grandma fought once when they were visiting. Selene yelled at Grandma, saying Giovanni’s death was all Grandmas’ fault”. My cousin whispered half under her breath.
“Who’s Giovanni?” Casper shrugged, making a face. She opened her door.
“No, idea. I asked Dad, but he shut me down quick and told me it was none of my business and not to ask again. He forbade me to ask grandma anything.” She replied, sighing deeply.
“Oh well, night Cass I am glad you’re here,” I said.
“Me too, night Frankie,” she replied we were both smiling as we closed our doors.
Someone had unpacked my things and put them away in draws. I also noted there were several strange-looking school uniforms in black and red hanging from hangers in the wardrobe. New black leather school shoes sat in the racks with my super uncool dirty white sneakers and a pair of Winnie the Pooh thongs. I pulled my flying skull pyjamas out of my draw before heading to the bathroom. The removal of my mask was a well-honed habit. I eyed the finished product in the mirror. My eyes were too big for my face, and I wanted my lips thinner, but alas, no luck there. I pulled the thick black studded collar from my neck revealing an ugly thick, pink puckered scar ringing my throat. I turned quickly away from the sight; pulling off the rest of my clothes. I stepped into the shower.
I was hoping sleep would come quickly tonight and I would not have my usual nightmare about the kids at my old school. I’d snuck out one night. I was invited to a party by a group of kids in my class. When I arrived, they tied me to a slab in the back yard. I kicked and yelled out for help. The music was so loud no one could hear anything. The kids each took a turn carving their initials into the soft skin of my stomach. They covered me in vinegar, which made it impossible for the marks to disappear even after the transition. Afterwards, they carried me out the back and tossed my unconscious body over the fence and into the drain dipping down behind the house. They dumped me like garbage. However, their crowning glory was slitting my throat, with a glass vinegar bottle, on the rising precisely a year later. It was after school; I was taking the bus home. They jumped me from behind. The parentals were furious, all the blood ruined my school uniform, and they would have to spend money on a new one. Aunt Selene was visiting us at that stage. She convinced my parents, I deserved it, or the kids would never have touched me. She told my mother to make me wear my ruined uniform to school as a mark of my shame. Dad flipped; he wanted to send me to a private school. Again, Selene intervened and said the public system would provide better discipline to a delinquent such as me. I ran light fingers over the puckered pink scars on my stomach and throat before running them lightly over the scar on my side. My mother, the woman who birthed me, branded me with the white-hot ornamental DragonSpire coat of arms. I leaned against the tiled wall in the shower, the hot water beating a stucco rhythm on my head. Feeling tears well up, I cursed.
“Get a hold of yourself, Frankie!” I snarled quietly. I turned off the taps; dried off, and got dressed. I was once more pushing the horrific memories to the back of my mind, shutting them firmly behind a thick wall. I took one more look at my bedroom as I climbed up onto the large four-poster. The bed was soft; it welcomed me like open arms. I lay my towel wrapped head on the mountain of pillows, the moment my head touched the silky material I was out like a light.
- Writer
