The Innocent Life of Valerie Vale

Dirty Little Thing

Dirty Little Thing

Valerie Vale was her name. The taste of blood was still in her mouth and while at first it had disgusted her, now she relished the flavour. She licked her lips and then her teeth. They were sharp. She dropped the stake and looked down at her hands. They were dirty. She wiped them against her dress. It was filthy and she loved it.

Valerie felt strong. She remembered she was cold before but not now. Her dress was short, her skin bare to the elements of the night. She took off her heels and felt the rough texture of the forest floor on the soles of her feet. She cast them aside. She felt as though she was one with nature. For the first time, she felt like she belonged.

Valerie raised her hand to her neck, looking for the puncture holes left by her attacker, by her saviour. There were none. Her skin had already healed itself and it was in that moment Valerie realised she would have to get used to her new existence. That morning she woke up as an ordinary girl. Now she was an extraordinary woman, a vampire whose body would remain untouched by the slow infection of age.

Leaving behind that most special place, the place of her rebirth, Valerie wandered back through the forest alone. She felt relaxed, carefree and curious. All of her senses were heightened. She could smell the moss on the trees, see the light of distant stars and hear insects crawling through the fallen autumn leaves below.

Now she could see further ahead than ever before and in the distance she could hear the soft sound of cars driving through the centre of town. It was a gentle sound of civilisation, of a people who could no longer understand her, not even pretend to try like they once had. Whatever she was now, was different, alien to them and to their sleepy existence.

Her pace quickened as her patience dissolved into a thing of memory. She felt hungry, she lacked human blood and she knew she would need to feed. It was pure instinct. What poor soul would sacrifice their life for hers? What innocent would be undone before her? She cared not.

It was late. It had now been over an hour since Valerie first left the bar with her kind prince. The streets were quiet but not empty and as she prowled along she did so confidently, fearlessly granting eye contact to those who would gaze upon her. Her dress was still dirty, her skin too. She looked and smelled of blood. She was a dirty little thing.

She passed a young man. He was attracted to her in spite of the rough quality of how she looked but he was intimidated. He said nothing. Next a woman, about the age of her mother who looked at her with an expression of shock and death. She was almost afraid to speak but she was a sympathetic sort and couldn’t help herself.

‘Are you ok,’ she asked with concern, ‘have you been in an accident?’ Valerie ignored her. She could have slit her throat with her fingernail but she chose not to. She had decided her first would be strong, formidable and heroic. Like her mother, this woman was none of that.

A police officer from across the street had noticed Valerie. He crossed the road and approached her with care. He was tall, with broad shoulders and short blond hair beneath his hat. Valerie smiled menacingly. He was handsome, he would do.

‘Ma'am, do you need assistance,’ he asked, ‘have you been attacked?’ Valerie didn’t reply, she seized him by his throat and forced him against the window of the liquor shop to her left. The glass cracked slightly as he struggled against her but she was too strong. She paused, looking into his eyes, searching for the same fear her lost hero had searched for in her own. She found it.

The police officer reached for his gun. He drew it on her and pulled the trigger but she was too quick, deflecting the bullet to the ground as the sound of the gunshot thundered through the street. There were screams and cries for help but Valerie knew she had plenty of time to savour the moment.

As she continued to hold him in place against the glass, she tightened her grip around his wrist. First she drew blood as he moaned loudly in pain. Then she snapped his wrist. The gun fell to the ground, as useless as he was impotent.

Now she was done playing. She ripped through his clothes, pulling his shirt apart and exposing his chest. She focused on his heart, she could hear it beating intensely. She could almost taste it. She pressed her face against his skin, rubbing her cheek and her lips across it gently. She kissed him and then in the quietist, sweetest voice imaginable, she thanked him for his sacrifice.

Her fangs pierced his flesh just below his heart and there came a rush of crimson blood. There was more than she had expected. She drank from him as it dripped down her neck, across his chest and soaked into his clothes. He screamed out in pain and anxiety but as his blood pressure began to weaken he grew quiet.

Valerie stepped back as his body collapsed to the ground in a heap. He wasn’t quite dead yet but she decided to let him bleed out. She realised it was a bit of a waste, that perhaps the neck would be the way to go from then on, but she was satisfied with her first foray. She had devoured him and relished in it, like a greedy child with a chocolate bar of rich taste and decadent flavour. She licked her lips and continued along her way, content at least for now.

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