Betsy sighed and put down her diary, trying to think of another synonym for Adonis. Statuesque? No, she'd used that far too many times today. She sighed again, feeling butterflies dance in her stomach as she thought of Edwin. Oh, Edwin. For a brief moment she wondered if the lightheaded feeling and the butterflies could be the fact that she hadn't eaten for the past few days rather than just the giddiness of pure love, but dismissed that thought as absurd. She was almost a hundred pounds, surely she could survive without eating for a while - and soon, so soon, she would never have to eat again because Edwin would sink his long powerful vampire fangs into her and make her one with him and it would be so romantic. It would be perfect, and wonderful, and that glorious moment when he began to slurp out her blood would feel even better than sex, she was sure. Well, reasonably sure. She couldn't be absolutely positive since she had, up to this point, not tried either activity.
As Betsy opened her diary again (sighing in romantic angst for the twelfth time in five minutes) and began to write about how terribly unfair it was to be only seventeen - or sixteen and three months, which was practically the same thing - and not able to go and live her life which would be full of adventure and romance somewhere where people appreciated her free spirit and willingness to not be like all the other kids, Edwin suddenly appeared in front of her in that silent and sexy vampire way he had and completely disrupted her thriving run-on sentence.
"Oh, Edwin!" she cried, bosoms heaving. That was the intent, at least; she hadn't managed to develop what one would call bosoms, exactly, and so they were more like shoulder pads from her mother's old jackets stuffed into her bra. In addition to that, the deep breathing required to make them heave combined with standing suddenly (and possibly - just possibly - the three-day hunger strike) caused her to pass out so that she more precisely said "Oh, Edwhuh..." before crashing to the ground and stabbing her ear with a pinecone.
For a moment, Betsy wondered why Edwin hadn't caught her with his incredible vampire speed, but then he crouched down beside her and lifted her up in his perfect arms like pale marble. Some tiny part of her brain, deep down inside, wished yet again that he were warm and soft - but the rest of her reminded that part that cold and hard and scary was more romantic. So much more. She looked up into his perfect red eyes, and coyly tilted her head to expose more neck before remembering that that was the side with the zit - why must acne interfere with her true love? Were the fates against her?
"Oh, Edwin, I love you so much. I want you. Need you. Please, bite me. Bite me now."
He was almost drooling, but in a totally romantic way. Slowly, he leaned forwards and she felt the points of his teeth press against her neck.
"Oh, yes Edwin!" she cried, and then the pressure increased and OH DEAR GOD! The pain was intense, all consuming. The pressure just kept coming, and she could feel her flesh tear as warm blood flowed down and soaked her shirt.
She struggled, but she might as well have been wrestling with solid iron. She screamed for a moment but then somehow couldn't get her breath - the pain was just too powerful. Something else tore, something inside her neck. This wasn't right, wasn't how the stories went at all. That same tiny part of her brain as before reminded her that this was, in fact, a lot like the stories about vampires - just not the newer stories she was a fan of. Betsy could feel her heart beating, each beat weaker than the one before. She was getting cold, getting numb. Was that the change starting? Was she turning into a vampire? Edwin dropped her roughly to the ground, and as he wiped the dark blood from his face she saw that he looked different now. It was like some sort of spell had broken, and she could see his actual face.
It wasn't pale, it was pasty - almost grey. The skin sagged in places, and dark veins were visible on his cheeks. His mouth - that perfect mouth that she had pressed against hers so many times - was ugly and distorted by the hideous fangs. For some reason it was getting hard to see, but she could just make out Tony, another vampire, walking up behind him.
"Ah... broke another toy, Edwin?" Toy! Tony would be regretting that comment in a moment when Edwin defended her honor.
"Yeah, looks like. I always do that. Wasn't even very filling, to be honest."
"So are you going to turn her?" Of course he was, Betsy thought. Of course.
"Are you joking? Man, you know I like them to be seventeen at the oldest - what would I do with her in a year?"
"How do you even get kids to go out with you, you pervert? I wouldn't think it would be so easy to get them to date a pedophile." The world seemed to be falling away from her, the voices sounding distant and strange.
"Ah, that's easy. Just tell them you're like two hundred years old."
"But you're forty!"
"Sure, but if you let them know that they can grasp the math better and they won't go for it."
"Ah. So... what now?"
Now... now he saves me, Betsy thought. This is just a trick, right?
"Well, her little sister is looking pretty tasty for a fourteen year-old. I could say Betty here got attacked by werewolves, act all sad... I'll have her in a week."
"You're a sick son of a bitch, you know that?"
And then she couldn't hear anything anymore.