The reason I was suspended for 2 weeks my junior year of high school

While looking through some old 3.5 inch floppy disks, I found some of my old high school English papers. Well this is the story that got my ass suspended from school for 2 weeks when I was seventeen. I was also required to see a psychologist. My English teacher advised my parents that I was 'an emotionally disturbed young lady'. LOL If she only knew...


My throat feels constricted, I know this feeling well. After almost four thousand years I should be used to the demands of living as a vampire, I need to feed. I am silent as I lean over the edge of the two storied building that houses Joe's Bar. Tonight's meal, Francis, is sweet talking some blonde girl into going home with him. I already know she has every intention of taking him up on the offer. I have already dipped into their thoughts. If she had any idea of what he was planning to do to her, she would be running the opposite way as fast as she could. Squirt has mommy issues. His mother used to lock him in the closet while she turned tricks in their one room efficency apartment. At the age of ten she started pimping him out too. He killed her when he fifteen after she trie to throw him out because he wasn't the innocent looking boy who brought in all the customers anymore. years

I leave the edge of the roof and walk towards the side overlooking alley. I change my appearance to that of his ultimate fantasy girl, a younger copy of now dead mother. I brush my now blonde hair from my eyes and step off the edge and silently land on my feet in the ally. The drop doesn't faze me. Twenty years ago, in an attempt to end my exsistance, I jumped out of a plane at an altitude of 3,000 feet. It didn't work, just stung like hell. I entertained myself for weeks watching search parties scouring the area for my remains. Now my ghost is believed to haunt the mountain side. Once a year, on the anniversary of my jump, people gather together to search the mountain side in hopes of locating my bones and setting my spirit free. They all know what I look like because of a picture that is etched on my memorial stone at the bottom of the mountain. I get a kick out of going up there every year to scare the shit out of people while I pretend to haunt my mountain.

When I get to the front of the bar I slip into Blondie's mind. Within seconds she was at the side of the building evacuating the contents of her stomach. Squirt takes one look at the ground in front of her and turns around to head back into the bar to restart his search for tonights lucky lady.

"Hey," I call over to Squirt, "I was watching you in there and was a little disappointmented when I saw you leave with someone. Looks like my luck has changing." I approach him with a fake smile on my face.

He grins like a kid on Christmas morning. Well, maybe not a kid, more like a horny teenager seeing a pair of tits for the first time. His instant erection tents the denim of his jeans.

"You got somewhere you can take me, baby?" I knew he did, his type of perversion needs privacy. So did mine, he wasn't the only one with a sick needs. I know I will feel no guilt when I end his existence, he is like fire, destroying everything it touches and scarring anything that manages to escape.

"I do. What's your name?" Squirt through his reply.

I will lie to him for now, "Maggie Ann. How about you?"

"Jack." His name isn't Jack, it's Florence. "Let's get out of here. Do you have a car?"

"No. I had a friend drop me tonight." Of course I am lying to him. Myis parked in the parking lot beside the bar but I won't drive it to his house. Someone might see the car and be able to tie me to the crime I am about to commit.

"My truck is parked across the street." In his head, Squirt, is doing his version of a happy dance.

He grabs my hand to lead me across the street, it takes everything I have to jerk it back away from him. I don't like the feeling I get when he touches me. His thoughts amplify in my mind, it makes my skin crawl. Every kill he has made is replaying in super speed in my head. He has killed more than I initially thought. At least twenty women have had there lives cut short by him. Every victim tortured worse than the last. There screams play through my mind, I am getting a headache. It angers me that he has gotten away with his acts for so long. My imagination runs wild with the things I will do to him.

After fifteen minutes of being closed up in Squirt's car breathing the offensive smells coming from the many fast food bags that litter the floor board, I am glad when he finally pulls off the road and pulls on to a dusty dirt driveway. The driveway is about six hundred yards long and ends in front of an old farmhouse in dire need of repairs. They property in hidden from prying eyes by a large tree line. When he brings the truck to a stop I open the door and take deep breath expecting fresh air. Instead my overly sensitive vampire nose detects the scent of decaying flesh. I know where he has been getting rid of the bodies of his victims. The smell is coming from an large barn to the left of the truck. The spirits surrounding the area are angry and vengeful. I send a silent message to them promising them that he will suffer greatly before I am finished with him.

The inside of Squirt's home is covered in a layer of dust. The livingroom is very minimalistic except for one wall completely covered in framed photographs. It is shrine for his mother layed out in chrological order from birth to death. The very last frame, the largest by far, is of his mother in her casket. Behind some of the pictures I know I would find a polaroid of one of his many victims after he brutalized them. In his mind every picture needs to die.

As soon as he closes door he lunges for me.

"Oh my God!" I play my part to perfection. "Get off of me!"

"Hold still, bitch!"

He jabs me in the neck with a needle and injects some sort of tranqualizer into my system. It will have no effect on me. He lets go of me, the other women never made it more then 50 yards before the anesthetic kicked in and they hit the ground. He's never met anyone like me but I will play the part for now.

I run to the door and throw in open. I let myself make it almost to the driveway, I want to land in the grass and not the gravel when I stumble and fall. He followed me out the door and is standing over top of me as soon as I hit the ground.

"Wut ere ooh dooing ta me?" I am a good actress, years of lying has taught me how to play almost any part. I let my head thunk the ground as I pretend to pass out. He picks me up and carries me back inside and down the stairs to his dungeon of horrors. My mind is racing with possibilities. I am thirsty. My fangs keep trying to drop. It's not time yet. I want him to feel the terror he made all those women feel.

I feel the cool metal of the shackles he clamps around my ankles. It's been about seven minutes since he injected me. Squirt makes a lot of noise as he lays out his torture tools, the sound of them bouncing on the steel table is peircing to my sensitive ears. I pretend to regain consiousness.

"Where…am…I?" I hope he believes my attempt at sounding groggy. I glance around the room letting my eyes settle on the weapons he has laid out on the other side of the room. I grab the chain anchoring the shackles to the wall and pretend to pull with all my might.

With a knowing smile on his face. "You won't get away."

"What are you going to do to me?" I ask feigning terror. "Please don't hurt me." As incentiv e to make him hate me even more I add, "I have a son at home who needs me."

"You're just like her. I knew it the minute I saw you. All you woman are the same, dirty whores. Your son will be better off without you." He grabs a tool from the table and stalks towards me.

"Please don't do this. Just let me go. I won't tell anyone." I hate begging.

He keeps coming closer. When he is about five feet from me I grab hold of the chain using about as much effort as it would take a human to open a car door and rip the chain from the wall. I kicked my left leg making breaking the shackles attatched to my ankles.

Francis is quickly backing away from me putting as much distance as he can between us. I let myself trace to the spot behind him and whisper into his ear, "You can't run from me, Francis."

Francis trips over his own feet as he tries to make a break for the door. I trace to the area beside the stairs and slam my fist into the side of them busting his only unlocked escape route to pieces. The only other way out is through the cellar doors. Even if he managed to make it past me, which will never happen, the doors are locked shut with a padlock. He is stuck and he knows it. Humans have two natural responses to a harmful threat, fight or flee.


"What are you?"

I let a wicked sounding laugh escape. "Do you really want to know?"

He opens his mouth to speak but fear stops him from being able to answer.

I let my appearence take it's natural form, I want him to see the real me as I kill him. I know my eagerness to feed shows. My eyes glow red and my fangs descend, I am a predator. I keep my voice calm and devoid of emotion, "I am the daughter of Elizabeth Bathory, the Blood Countess. My name is Anna. I have walked this earth for thousands of years ridding it of monsters such as yourself. I also killed my mother, she was far worse a person than your mother was. You have destroyed too many innocent people. I am here to kill you, Francis." I am on him as soon as I see everything I told him has sunk in. I easily toss him across the room sending him crashing into the wall. I jump across the room and land on the table in front of him. He has picked up a hunting knife and swings it frantically in my direction, I don't bother to take it from him. It is near impossible that he will make contact with me. I reach into his mind and make him feel the pain of being stabbed without actually touching him. Actually stabbing him would waste part of my meal. I make him think the floor is on fire and watch as he dances around the room screaming. After twenty minutes of torturing him I break the mental link. I am tired of playing with my food.  "Francis, are you ready to end this?" I know he is. If I keep this up any longer his brain will likely be fried.

He takes a deep breath and tries to respond but the twenty minutes of screaming has damaged his vocal cords. He can't make a coherent sound.

This time when I grab him I pierce his juglar with my fangs. He struggles to break free of my grip, but I am to strong. I could easily make this painless for him but he doesn't deserve it. Instead I make every pull I take from his vein feel like hell. His vctims deserve the satisfaction of him suffering. He stills right before he dies. His blood is no longer useful to me and tastes dead. I drop his body and leave.