The Story of the Vampire, L (Completed | Featured )

"L." Book Preview [Laurent POV Book]

[Book is currently at 10 parts, with much more to come. Throughout SoVL, there is a book Dasius is trying to get from Mini, containing Laurent's correspondence and personal writing. This is that book. Appearances by every character in SoVL, and more. Considering L's personality, a sexier, more emotional but also more analytical approach. One does not need to have finished SoVL to read "L." No prior knowledge is required.]

https://www.wattpad.com/story/88112366-l

ch 1.6

In my blood, I feel the stiffness of lead, and sometimes I fall leaden, unable to move. I know that I am clean, and that there is no taint in me of metals, but there are still times when I wake up and cannot move, like that night, when those people came.

I sit here writing, and Nicky is in my washroom, and he has decided to be nice to me today, and how I so want that, that I am willing to forget his abuse for a minute, and smile at him. And he is just like a child, though he hates to hear it most of the time, in that when anyone smiles at him he smiles too. I do it, as he comes into the room, and he smiles back at me.

He opens the window and leans out, and he says, "The street is very far below."

"You won't die. You will break your body, and no one will be able to help you."

"So I will be like a monster, with all my broken angles."

"Yes, perhaps forever. You may like it awhile, but when you no longer like it, you'll wonder why you ever jumped out the window, and now must be a monster forever."

He seems to think about it a moment, and then he says, "I'll wash my hair," shutting the window again, and latching it.

"You'll smell nice," I tell him, a silly thing to say. A slightly hysterical thing.

"And we will go to a theater show?" he asks. "You have to say yes, please."

I'll take him if he insists because of what I have lately been thinking about, and for no other reason.

I will not take him because I am afraid of him. Not because I am afraid of what he might do to me. He will do it anyway. Or he will change his mind about doing it, and never do it again. But it will be up to him, and not because of anything I have done.

I am old enough to know that what I do matters very little. I have been old enough to know that since I was living, and up to my neck in trouble with all the devils in the world.

Nicky says, from my washroom, "Take a nap." So I go to lie down, and when I close my eyes, for a moment the darkness makes me afraid. When I open them, I cannot hear anything, and I feel scared, so I begin to cry.

He comes to find me, and he coos and coos at me, "Don't swallow your tears. Don't swallow them. You'll get a clot. You'll choke." He says, laughing, nervous, "Now stop it. Stop it. You're so silly. You stop doing it. Stop crying." He is nervous because he knows that he has been the cause of my crying for some days, and that it is silly for him to try comforting me now. He does not dare to touch me without say so.

I wish that he would.

***

Nicky looks so mild, when he wants to look mild. He has large, wet eyes, brown with a black line circling his irises. This black line is the key to his beauty, because it makes his features look so fine. He possesses skin so delicate and pale as to look powdered. Sometimes when I have kissed him upon the nose, I wipe my lips of this invisible powder, forgetting his charms. Expressive lips, enough hair not to ever need a wig, with loose, brown curls that spring back when pulled. He is nothing like a doll, giving as he does every impression of the future of his features. He would have been a fine young man, with those eyes that give so the candid idea of his looking and looking and looking. He would have been slight of figure all of his years. The sort of young man whose throat I would rather cut than see his beauty ruined.