Once Bitten *On Hiatus*

𝕾𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖞 𝕱𝖔𝖚𝖗

• 𝓜𝓪𝓮 •

The room was ready within a couple hours, and there was a cute little bookcase next to the covered window filled with books. On top were three notepads and an unopened box of pens. It was more personalized than my old room had been.

And it was right next to Kite's room.

There were two doors to my left, and one to my right. I assumed one was a bathroom and one was a closet, but I wasn't sure what the other could be.

I shut the door behind me and looked around, taking in the quiet I hadn't heard in what felt like months. Somehow I had talked Kite into only allowing me to have a key, and I was wholly and completely alone.

I walked over to the bookcase and looked through the books, laughing at the fact that about ninety five percent of them were erotic fiction. The other five percent looked like cutesy romantic comedies.

The notepads on the top were new. Empty. And I debated on whether or not to write down my plans. To get them out of my head and onto paper. But I didn't. I learned from my mistake last time.

The four of them knew what I was planning regarding Zero. They didn't, however, know Titus was also a part of my end game. Of course, they could probably deduce it well enough if they paid attention. I just worried Kite would stop me, seeing as Titus was his father and all.

Who would step up to power once Titus was gone? Doyle? No one would want that, but if what I've been told was to be believed, Doyle was likely the second strongest vampire in South District and would take that position before Titus's body was dragged out of the room and burned.

But if I could kill Titus without getting myself killed in the process, then Doyle could be killed too.

I was getting ahead of myself. I hadn't forgotten about Titus's promise regarding Zero. How I needed to train because he expected our next meeting to be entertaining. I wondered if he was training Zero. Readying him for me as Titus wanted me ready for him.

I believe my strength came from my survival instincts. That, added to my rage, only fueled the powers that were supposed to be dormant for new vampires. But if that were the case, what was I supposed to do when I got rid of the things causing me that rage? Fueling that survival instinct?

I walked over to the bed and ran my fingers over the pale blue comforter, tilting my head.

I didn't believe I'd ever be rid of my anger. I'd held onto it for so long, even before the vampires.

I sighed, then sat down on the bed that I'd never sleep in. But I guess that was one good thing about being a vampire - I didn't experience nightmares because I didn't sleep. It didn't stop the memories during the day though, and sometimes my daydreams were worse than my nightmares ever could be.

The fact that I could remember every single detail of my life had concerned me for years. I brought it up to my parents at one point, telling them that I could remember days from when I was two and three years old with so much clarity that I felt like I was reliving it. When I told them, I was eight. They said that I was special. That I should create amazing memories to relive over and over again.

Amazing memories. Funny.

I did have some amazing memories. But nine times out of ten, my mind focused more on the bad and nightmarish, rather than the good. If I knew how to stop them, I would. But a lot of the times that I tried to relive a good moment, it somehow morphed to the bad.

Call it a character flaw, I guess.

I fell back onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling, scanning the rough surface. It was so vivid. Everything was so surreal. Things I thought were dull were enhanced with my vampiric vision, and nothing was really dull at all. Colors were more vibrant. I was so much more sensitive to the feel of things. Even the comforter beneath my back brushed against my skin in a way I never felt before.