Pallido

Eleven

Staring at my house, I never realized how much I missed my old life. When things were normal and vampires didn't rule the world. I missed my friends, my family, my dog. I missed so much. And if humans were ever able to be in charge again, I knew I wouldn't get those things back. I never could.

I walked up the sidewalk to the porch and ran my palm over the railing. The black paint was chipping off from years of use and weather. The concrete steps were also cracking.

I found the key under the welcome mat and unlocked the screen door then the second door. My eyes widened at what I saw inside.

Nothing had changed. Nothing at all. Everything still looked the same as when I'd left it. Or, when I was forced to leave.

The kitchen was still small and homey. The red rug on the floor was askew as it always was. The dishes were in the rack, waiting to be put away. The pictures I had drawn for so many years still hung on the fridge.

I opened one of the cabinets and looked in at the contents. Everything was expired and some of the cans looked like they were about to burst. I shut the door and sighed. I was starving but there was nothing to eat at the house.

There was nothing I could eat at the house.

I left the kitchen and walked through the tiny dinning room. It wasn't fancy enough to have guests over but it was nice enough for my family and I. Or it had been. I ran my hand over the blue tablecloth before I left the room. The stairs creaked under my feet. When I was younger, I hated them. It gave me away whenever I was sneaking in past curfew. Though my parents always knew when I was late, stairs or no stairs. Now, it made me miss them even more than I usually did.

The top of the steps led to a small hallway that was really just a landing. To my left was the bathroom, straight my parents' room, and the right my room. I went to the right and pushed my door open.

My bed wasn't made, there were dozens of lipstick stains on the mirror behind my dresser, and I had ten half-drunk bottles of water on my nightstand. It was a typical bedroom for a teenage girl.

That wasn't me anymore.

I sat down on my bed and pulled the picture off my nightstand. It was of me and my two closest friends, Amy and Tara. Amy had long blonde hair and green eyes. She was tall and thin and model material. Tara had a dark bob, her eyes matching it. She wore skirts every chance she could, showing off her toned legs from all the track meets so attended. I was the ugly one of the three of us but it never bothered me. They never made me feel like I was.

I closed my eyes then opened them. My friends were dead. My family was dead. Everyone from my old life was gone. And if not, their life had gone to hell and then some.

I put the picture under my bed and laid down on my side. My throat was sore and my stomach felt empty, like I'd taken everything from it and scraped it out. I needed blood but I had no idea where to get any.

Maybe I was going to die for real.

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"Sydney."

I opened my eyes at the sound of his voice. I didn't expect him to find me. I didn't really even expect him to come after me at all. Not after what I'd said to him.

"Can we talk?"

"No." I said, sounding more angry than I really was.

"Please, Sydney. I hate that you're mad at me."

"It wouldn't be the first time."

Peter sighed and walked over to the bed. He sat down on the edge though he didn't try to touch me. "I want to fix things between us."