Chosen

Chapter 21- That Sounds Tragically Emo But It's Serious

"I never knew a bun can be this pretty before." I mutter, touching the perfectly sculpted ball of hair on my head. After ten minutes of almost having my head ripped off my neck, Jenn has finally finished. I swear, I thought she was playing tug-a-war instead of decorating my scalp.

She smirks in triumph. I play with the strands of hair surrounding the front of my face that lay there messily. It's the only part that resembles me. The bun lacks flaws, which doesn't sound like me at all. I have plenty: ones I've created, ones that I have no chance of fixing. Is it wrong to find beauty in that?

The purpose of wearing a bun is to show people the mark. After I finish the truckload of paperwork involving the vampire queen, I'll be asking around to see if anyone knows about this 'chosen' business. In my 600 years of life, I have never heard of anyone being chosen for anything that sounds important. The most I've heard of is being chosen for the queen, since one king didn't find a mate. That was 1000 years ago though, I doubt that has anything to do with me.

"Thanks dear witch friend of mine." I attempt to grin at her while disguising my emotions.

Jenn scoots closer to me, facing her ear towards my direction.

"Speak again." She demands  suspiciously. I blurt out something along the lines of syrup, unicorns, and blood.

Suddenly, she squeals and jumps up and down. I watch as she moves like a drunk hippie all around the room for an unknown reason.

Her face morphs into anger as she points an accusing finger at me.

"How dare you? You never told me you were British! I heard the accent!" That's odd, not even vampires can hear it. I suppose one has never searched for one before though.

I am not ready to explain my whole life story to her yet.

I raise my hand and look at my imaginary watch. "Oh, it seems that I have an appointment with the load of documents on my desk, got to go bye!" I rush out.

I guess I'll be having a date with my office.

-

I throw my hands up in the air. Only one more paper to go and then I'm officially done. I'd finally be able to find out what this wretched mark on the back of my neck means.

I'm just glad I'm allowed to work now. Hanging out with Jenn and Trissa was fun, don't get me wrong, but when they're gone I'm alone with my thoughts. That sounds tragically emo but it's serious. I find myself crying a lot more than I'm supposed to, when a few months ago I didn't even know the act still existed.

The News channel on the recently installed tv comes on. I resist the urge to groan, the news is so boring. I begin to look for the remote, but it seemed to disappear in the few minutes I've been without it. If I have to move, it's not worth it. You know what they say, if you can't reach it, you don't need it.

"Robbery in the World Bank ended miraculously. Eleven men dressed in all black were found tied to a stop sign unconscious with all bags of money surrounding them. Police reported that they have not found or seen the one who stopped them. But whoever it is, thank you, the money that was stolen was suppose to be going to Haiti according the president, and now it can." The newsman says. Someone who prevented a mass robbery doesn't want to be known? Odd, they could've inherited a large amount of praise and money for that.

I ignore the thoughts in my head about that and continue to read this blasted document. All I'm understanding is blah blah blah stole, blah blah blah warlocks, blah blah blah sue. The three words told me exactly what happened, so I put my signature on it and place it on top of the finished stack.