Chapter 3: Youth And Whisky

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Andy's POV:

I let out a long sigh staring up at the white ceiling of my apartment. It was one of those days where I hated being immortal, sometimes it's a curse living forever, being in the same skin and never getting old. I wished that I could have settled down with a nice guy, got married, had kids, and grew old with him. As much as I want that now it's not possible when every person is fearful of me. Out of all the years of living, I met one nice guy who I dated. We loved each other, but as soon as I told him I was a member of the non-living he gathered a mob to kill me. That was the first day I had actually cried, alone in my room, letting out long pain filled agonizing sobs, my heart shattering to pieces. That day has scared me into not turning my humanity back on, it felt like steak to the heart.

A glass of whisky was in my right hand, a burning cigarette in my left. My feet dangled off the side of the building, slight breeze flowing through my tangled hair. The smell of blood traveled through the air, the sent to strong to be just a bleeding cut. I pushed myself into a standing position, finishing up the whisky and stepping out my cigarette. Jumping building from building, I followed the sent to a dark pathway.

A long growl broke the silence as I perched my body on the edge of the building, staying down so I wasn't seen. The smell of wet dog was prominent in the air as a dark mass moved slightly. It was standing over something, someone who was bleeding out. It was horrific, a man, or what was left of the man, laid mangled on the street. Blood seeped out of every wound, his head detached from his body. I let out an inaudible gasp, stumbling backwards on the roof. I would have fell if a pair of strong muscular arms hadn't catch my body. I pulled away in shock, facing a man with silky long brown hair going just past his shoulders. His chocolate brown eyes glistened in the moonlight, tattoos trailing up both of his arms. This man was handsome and I found myself practically drooling over his features.

"You ok man?" He asked, snapping me out of my hypnotic thoughts.

"Yeah...yeah I'm fine. You gave me a great fright."

"A great fright?" He asked raising an eyebrow at my statement. "What are you from the nineteenth century?" He was laughing at me, was it something I said? Fuck, I forgot theses new street languages that I need to grow accustom to. I can do this.

"Did I say that? I mean you scared the shit out of me. I thought I heard something so I came up here to check it out." I looked over my shoulder, seeing the scene vanished, the dismembered man gone without a trace.

"Sorry dude didn't mean to, but hey it's better then cracking your head open on the concrete." His voice was just so amazing, it flowed like liquid butter.

"That's true...so what are you doing up here, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I work in the bar down below." He said pulling out a bottle of vodka and sitting on the edge of the building, like I had done before. "Care to join in?"

"Not at all." I sat next to him staring down at the street below. "Your not scared that in one wrong move you could fall to your death?"

"Not really, I just live my life in the fast lane. I jump around from place to place trying new things, meeting new people. Somehow I found myself in Los Angeles one night, applied for a job, and now hear I am drinking with a total stranger who looked like he just saw a ghost." After he took a swig from the bottle he handed it to me looking in my blue eyes. "What about you? Aren't you scared?"

"Sometimes I scare myself." I said truthfully taking a gulp of the burning liquid.

"How so?"

"I wake up feeling so numb to everything, all I want to do is end this curse I've acquire. No one will ever love a monster like me, I just want to be at peace."

"Dude that was deep, but I feel you man. I'm 23 years old and I've found no one who likes me in anyway. Welcome to the singles club." He laughed taking another swig.

"How are you so at one with life? Your so what do they call it chill?"

"Why do you sound like your from the olden days man?"

"Sorry force of habit." I sighed out, laying my back on the sharp jagge rocks staring up the the sky.

"It's cool, I shouldn't have made fun of you. Before my foster dad went crazy, he used to talk like that all the time. Then when he actually went crazy, let's not even talk about the things he did." He sighed out running his fingers through his hair. My gaze locked on his neck, the sent of his blood overwhelming me. It was uncontrollable, something about him made me go into this frenzy. I held my breath, trying not to take in any sent of his blood.

"I never got you name."

"Oh yeah I'm Ashley Purdy, what about you?"

"Andy Biersack, it's nice to meet you Ashley Purdy."

"Andy Biersack." He repeated. "I remember hearing that name when I visited New Orleans." He said looking at me with more of a gazing look.

"What did you hear?" I asked quietly looking away from his eyes.

"He was a murderer, killed hundreds of people on the streets...he looked exactly like you."

"He was probably my uncle or something." I said standing up and moving away from him. "My family said I looked like him a lot."

He nodded his head and stood up opening his mouth about to say something, when four people bursted through the door calling his name. Ashley looked back at them, giving one glance back at me before heading back towards the door. He mutter a soft goodbye before disappearing behind the door. I took a sharp breath after a while, being hit in the face with the smell of wet dog. I was just in the presence of wolfs, how had I not know?

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