Confessions

Prologue

I turned toward Trey looking puzzled into his eyes.  "Oh, my God," I gasped.  "Did you see that?"

"Yeah," Trey gasped.  He was panting just as hard as I was, if not harder.  "What was it?"  I couldn't believe either of us still ad the ability to whisper through our profuse panting.  Though something seemed off about the way Trey's panting sounded.  It seemed like maybe he was faking it.  Maybe he was just doing it to make me feel better.  I was clumsy after all and he seemed to always feel bad for me.  At least that's how it seemed, anyway.

Something moved in the smelly, dank corridor's underground blackness.  It sounded like footsteps not to far away from where Trey and I were standing.  Actually, I was doubled over.  The sound of the footsteps ignited my flight reflex and I ran for it, terrified.  I ran for at least five minutes in complete blackness.  The air down here was like a black sheet that reeked of ashes and blood.  It was awful.  I ran faster just to try and escape it.  No dice.  I ran into something roch hard and fell down onto my butt.  I regained my footing slowly and let my eyes adjust to the darkness.

I turned my back to the object that had blocked my path and called out to Trey as loud as my aching lungs could tollerate.  My voice came out in a hoarse whisper that didn't even echo off the walls down here.  I gave myself a minute to mutter to myself but my voice wasn't getting any better.  "It'll be okay.  He's okay," I whispered to myself between gasped pants.  I bent down to grab my knees and steady myself.

"Maybe he . . .found . . .the way out . . .and . . .he's . . .going . . .for help."  I tried fervently to comfort myself but I wasn't calming down.  "Maybe  . . .the police . . .are -- Trey!"  I shouted a bit louder this time.  I waited to hear Trey's voice call out to me but there was no reply.  "Trey," I cried out with a moan of pain as my voice ripped itself up the inside of my esophagus.  My ribs ached and I had to hold my sides in pain.  I couldn't get a good breath.  "Where are you, Trey?"  Tears began to flow silently down my cheeks from exertion.

Silence was the only thing that filled the cave save for my quiet panting.  I began to lose hope, little by little.  My mouth, aching and dry, slowly began to turn down at the corners.  "Trey . . . ," I sobbed aloud for what felt like it might be the last time.  I was growing faint.  The blackness felt like a cradle that rocked me back and forth on my feet.  My shins were wet and warm and stung from the dirt that was caked on the bloody scrapes.  I knew I was going to pass out.  Maybe even bleed to death on the floor.  My innocence, no matter how pure I was, couldn't help me this time.

I put my hands over my eyes, drying the tears that would do me no good, while my mind drew pictures of my family -- my mother, father, and older brother -- and friends gathered around a Christmas dinner.  The sound of laughter filled my head.  Voices from my early childhood, which only seemed vague yesterday, were now a live booming concert inside my head.  My entire life was flashing before my eyes . . .

I turned to face the immobile, hard object that had made me fall onto the ground beneath my feet.  The black mass, blacker than the blanket of dark, blinding air, stood approximately one and a half feet taller than myself.  The middle of the object was wider than my chest and it had out caps that came down by the sides.  My eyes followed the shape up to the top and stopped short a few inches away.  Eyes.  I froze.

My body trembled as the glowing crimson eyes of the vampire bore into my soul with such an intensity that I dropped to my knees.  Large, freezing hands reached for my throat.  They wrapped around my neck and squeezed it tightly.  My body was lifted from the rocky surface that had been under my knees and I grew closer to the eyes.  My legs flailed wildly in thin air.  I struggled to get free of the hands but their iron grip was unfailing.  Freezing breath, colder than the hands at my throat, blew into my face.  The air from it was saturated with the smell of fresh blood.  The smell was fresher than the smell that lingered in the blackness of the underground tunnels that we were in.  The eyes tilted then closed and I suddenly felt fangs pierce the skin of my throat . . .