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Untitled by Frances Coady

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The girl stood there as she did every night. Lost in her thoughts, lost in her own safe little world. It was nice there she thought, it was lovely and dull and numbing. She stared into the night and then down at the tiny cars whizzing around below also absorbed in their own little worlds totally oblivious to anything else, to the dangers that the darkness brought with it.

The girl at the window was well aware of these dangers for she was one of them herself. Only in this had she felt that she truly belonged. Maybe that was what scared her so. It didn’t matter now of course any sense of belonging she had once felt was long gone; not a vivid enough memory to be reclaimed. More like a pleasant dream from a long forgotten past. Or maybe not so forgotten.

It wasn’t supposed to have happened like that. Everybody knows that the good guys always win. The bad guys are always defeated, their dastardly plot foiled, mankind saved, etc, etc. The problem begins when the line between the good and the bad becomes hazy and smudged, as it tends to be sometimes. As it did that night. The night she forgot about family, about faith, about blood. The night the girl made a mistake that she had been paying for, ever since. That was the night she lost everything.

Sometimes who the good guys are depends on where you stand. The girl, who really had just been a girl, had stood in the wrong place.

Only the almost unbearable ache in the pit of her stomach that identified it self as unfulfilled hunger was enough to pull her from her reverie. The girl, she wasn’t really a girl anymore - only in face and body - a look into her eyes would betray her as much older than at first she appeared, moved from her chosen spot. She left her apartment, only pausing to grab her old denim jacket and switch off the lights, and made her way out into the night. It was funny she mused that despite all that had changed so many things had stayed the same.

It was a cold night but she didn’t feel it. Merely acknowledging an old friend. A constant, as it were, in an ever-changing world. It was like the comforting presence of a decidedly frosty security blanket.

The girl continued to walk away from the well-lit areas inhabited by civilised folk towards the suburbs. Places where the odd drug pusher would neither be missed nor mourned. It was better this way thought the girl as she slipped into bait mode. Come on; she was doing humanity a favour.

"What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" The voice sliced through her thoughts like a razor. She’d actually been in lots of places like this and she was probably better suited to them than he was.

"Can you help me? I was supposed to meet my boyfriend at Pizza Hut only I got lost and I don’t know where I am and I’m going to be late and David’s be so mad." Each statement was punctuated with a small sniffle as if she were on the verge of tears. This performance had been tried and tested – perfected over many years of use. She didn’t know why she brought him up though. She always avoided references to them. Maybe that last sniffle hadn’t been quite so fake after all.

"Sure thing kitten, come with me. It’s just this way." Kitten? The man proceeded to lead her yet further away from her supposed goal.

She always gave them the chance to help. If they did fair enough, if they didn’t…

She stopped.

"Something the matter?" Inquired her companion.

"Yunno what? I don’t even like pizza." Her eyes glowed red as she sank her fangs in to her victim’s neck.

As the girl left she didn’t see the shadow slip away too absorbed in her own feeling of completeness. Only now in the minutes after feeding could she truly forget. The girl returned to what could laughingly be referred to as a home shortly before daybreak. After ensuring that thick drapes covered all of the windows she collapsed on to the bed to relive yet again the destruction of all she held dear, the destruction of the pack.
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