Eighteen troubled teenagers wake up one morning to an even more troubling discovery. They are all vampires...
Given the chance to correct their Scrooge like behaviors, they must accept the guidance of a keeper. Assigned to each of the eighteen, Dek...
Letting the sun kiss my face, I stand there waiting for a much needed breeze to caress my skin.
"Odin, you no longer overheat. So there is absolutely no need for a break."
Quinn's words ring though the air, scaring away any chance of a breeze. It's as if he found a way to talk at me, instead of talking to me.
Fine, he can be that way. After his failed attempt at forgiveness in the pet store, he has no right to rush the process.
Spacing out, my eye focus on a point just past Quinn's head of colored hair.
Memorizing the soot streaked wall with my eyes open, I close them willing the image to stay unchanged.
Lost to my own thoughts, it all comes bubbling to the surface.
Remembering, I've always had trouble remembering. Trouble with wanting to remember.
Part of moving on is re-evaluating the past. Yet, I can't even bring myself to want to remember. To try to remember.
To remeber the way my heart used to beat unevenly as I stared at this forsaken wall, waiting to deal.
To remember the first time I saw a movie that featured a character playing the role of the an all knowing businessman.
To remember the face that greeted me just days before my work would tear her appart.
To remember the initial looks of disapproval and dissatisfaction.
To remember the other dealers, abiding my no rules but their own, not even the predestined ones.
To remember why and how it all came about.
To remember how to say no. Knowing how I suppressed giving in for so long. So then what made me give in.
Remember Odin, remember...
I remember...
For him, for his approval. Yearning for those hands to unwrap themselves from his glass long enough to clap me on the shoulder.
Looking back it wasn't about what I had to gain, but what I already had that truly mattered.
I had everything, yet I chose to push it away, like a child refusing a vegetable.
She used to drill the words into my head for hours at a time. Waiting for me to come home to see the final verdict of the spelling test. Making celebratory ice cream sundays for every "B" I had earned.
My mother was my biggest cheerleader, until she wasn't. All that's left was my father a slave to his drinks and a prisoner to his chair.
Blaming him won't get me my life back, because if it did I'd have it back by now.
This is something I have to do.
Something that I have to want to do.
Other wise I can never do it.
Opening my eyes, I take it all in, but differently this time. Without the doubt and resentment towards the past.
Now, with a new found drive to remeber the past, I pray for the strength for a better tomorrow.
Whoa, since when did I start sounding like a life coach?
The sound of snapping fills my ears before my eyes focus. In front of me stands a very antsy Quinn.
Why is he trying to get my attention?
My reactions must be delayed. For a second I swear I feel the earth shudder as the distress call rings out.
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