She Scarey

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It was a cold, dark and gloomy night in the heart of London, England. The clock tower chimed - 12am. Whilst everyone else were asleep in their homes, She Scarey was out searching the streets like a starving vulture to catch her prey.

Scarey's throat remained dry. No blood to drink for two weeks. The constant thirst drove Scarey insane; it made her livid to the core.

Scarey leant against the wall in her short, figure-hugging black dress, leather jacket and black strappy heels, in an effort to please. She had her long, mousy hair styled and curled to perfection, and her makeup worked just right to send off an alluring aura.

Scarey was a little bit older than her human peers, but she never let her age stop her from trying to lure the guys they were going for. She chuckled as she watched a girl get rejected by a guy down the street, before she broke down in tears.

Goodness, get a grip, girl!

Scarey sensed someone staring at her. She stared at the guy back, but all he did was drop his jaw and run for his life.

Scarey sighed. She felt so out of place. Since childhood, her parents and grandparents kept her guarded from the other children. Still, she liked to stay inside, unless she had to feed. Her daily routine was straight-forward:, wake up, go to work, go home, go hunting, sleep. Scarey's life was strictly run by this routine, and that was how she liked it.

The only people to ever know she was a vampire were those who died from blood loss or ran away as far from her as possible. As well as her only friend, John Williams...

Also known as his code name, Red Youth, amongst his and Scarey's kind. The real name of She Scarey was Beatrice Carey. The wordplay with her last name was how she was recognised by other vampires. To everyone else, she was just Beatrice.

Beatrice took a break from blood hunting. She stopped in front of a pub, and decided to call up John for advice. Born in 1593, John was only a little bit younger than her, Beatrice being born in 1590, and they had been best friends since they were kids. When it came to their needs, he was there to help her, and so was she.

Beatrice unlocked her phone and looked though her contact list, until she found John's number. Once she found it, she pressed 'call' and waited for him to answer.

Soon, the dial tone stopped, and John's voice was heard.

"She Scarey?" He asked, checking that it was Beatrice.

"Yes, Red Youth." Beatrice confirmed.

"Oh, Bea, I haven't seen you in ages!" John exclaimed.

"I know!" Beatrice agreed. She cleared her throat, signalling seriousness, "John, I need help with finding more blood I've been starving for nearly two weeks, and no men want me."

Beatrice heard her friend hum in deep thought. John replied.

"Damn, girl, that is tough; you know, you're really limiting yourself by only hunting for guys, though."

Beatrice got confused.

What does he mean 'limiting' myself by 'only hunting for guys'? I mean, it's not like I'm gonna hunt other women, I don't want anyone to think I'm a homosexual. Plus, there's far less homosexual women than straight or bisexual men from London's population - how am I supposed to find a homosexual woman that doesn't act masculine?

"I know what you're trying to do, but it's not working." Beatrice retorted, with a sigh, "I'm not a...lesbian."

"Who says you have to love a girl to get her blood?" John reminded her.

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