s**t. s**t. s**t.
I'm still running.
Hurry up.
I have to hurry.
I can't lose them.
I get hit in the ribs and fall with a muffled scream.
I quickly stand up and hear the eerie crack of my bones snapping back into place.
There's no way I will show them they have the upper hand on me.
I raise my head and show my fangs to my attackers.
My eyes are entirely black, proof of my vampire DNA, proof that I intend to take their lives if they continue to come after me.
That's the problem, and they know it.
I have only two weaknesses. The first, for centuries now, is that I no longer take life.
I abhor murder and the unnecessary shedding of blood. I am a diplomat, and I am against the use of violence when it can be avoided.
One of my race approaches from behind and pulls my hair. "She's no
