Chosen

Chapter 1- Taken

A/N: Prince Daniel Cage at the top/side + triggering (suicide mention) start but it ends soon c:

"Are you okay?" I ask softly. She looks up at me, bags under her grass green eyes. For such a young girl, she looks like she's seen the worst of the world. Her entire face is sunken; I could feel the hopelessness rolling off of her in waves.

"I'm in a mental hospital for trying to kill myself but failing, how do you think I am?" She says harshly. I flinch, trying to give her the impression that I'm a vulnerable, innocent teenager. She sees this and sighs, shrugging her shoulders downwards.

"I- I'm sorry. It's just, I never wanted to be alive. And I am, unfortunately. I was suppose to die, not look like a crazy person!" She whispers roughly. I nod, pretending to understand.

"How about I help you out?" My fangs throb for a taste of her blood, aching to sink into her neck.

She looks at me, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. The small sparkle of youth a girl her age should have returns, making a temporary appearance. For a second, I almost regret being a bloodthirsty wrench.

"And why would you do that?" Because I'm really hungry.

"Because I understand. People say life will get better, but they lie. They only say that to make you feel better, but I know that it's not the truth. So, do you accept my help?" Without hesitation, she answers with a yes. Poor girl. She's alive, but not living. She's so desperate to die, she allows a random stranger to supposedly help her. The only good thing that comes out of this is that I'm full.

I grab the knife hidden in my boot and throw it at the security camera, hitting it square in the middle. Her eyes widen in fear but she stays calm. Damn, she really wants to die.

"You ready?" I ask, speaking with a gentle voice. Every time I'm about to take someone's life, particularly those with suicidal thoughts, I secretly hope that they'll change their minds. That in the split second I'm draining them, they'll realize that life is worth living for. But they never do. And by now, I'm immune to it.

She gives me a thumbs up, not knowing what I'm about to do next. I almost feel sorry for her, but I know she wants this, and so do I.

Doesn't mean you should do it.

I clasp my hand over her mouth forcefully, and whisper in her ear, "Goodbye."

My fangs elongate as I sink them into her neck, drinking every ounce of her blood. Her muffled screams die out, and she falls limp in my arms. The red substance drips down my throat, landing on my blouse. A groan escapes my lips. Great, now I have to throw it away.

These people need to step up their game; I've killed so many of their patients I've lost count.

"I'll be leaving now, thank you." I walk out the building, sliding off the spelled cloak I had on. It gives me the appearance of a different person every time I wore it, so no one can identify the true culprit. It made me absolutely giddy to get away with every crime I've created.

I use my vampire speed to get back home, making the trip only 3 minutes.

My little condo comes into view, and a smirk plants itself on my face. I've 'inherited' this shelter from one of my victims. A decent farewell gift to me, I must say.

I take out my keys and unlock the iron door, laced with Peristeria Elata powder. Heaven is filled with those flowers, an angel once said. That makes it dangerous for vampires, if they're in contact with too much of it. It's only on the outside though, and I would never try to touch the door. My plans are still in tact, so being alive is necessary.