( REWRITING. BEWARE.)
It was eleven thrity-eight p.m.
On a secluded road in the outskirts of Virginia. In a 1982 Pontiac Trans Am, a young woman traveled toward the only town in a hundred miles. It was a good place to camp out and let things blow over, and that was exactly what this young lady was looking for. A place to hide...
My mind was sluggish and barely operable. My lips were cracked and my mouth was basically a desert it was so dry. I hadn't slept in over forty hours. In fact, the only thing keeping me awake was a disgusting redbull, coffee, and 5 hour energy concoction. My bloodshot eyes stung from my lack of sleep and overall physical condition. I looked, and felt, like a disheveled sack of rat guts. My clothing was like the face of a bloodhound, my hair appeared as if I'd picked a fight with a raccoon, and I smelt like I had been on the road for two days straight.
With nothing but two minute restroom breaks and a quick stop at a fast food place twenty-eight hours ago, I had plenty of reasons to be sour. I was exhausted, starving, and ready to kill anyone who crossed my path. I hadn't driven all the way across the flipping country just for bragging rights. If anything, I had set a new record for doing it in the shortest amount of time possible...
But fear is a powerful thing. It can make people do some pretty crazy crap. And in my case, it made me drive over twenty-five hundred miles to get away from a bunch of dogs...
Speaking of which, the bandage on my upper arm had almost completely soaked through with blood and infection.
To say that it hurt like a hellhound had personally taken a bite out of my arm would be a massive understatement. It was the one thing souring my mood. I could live on the road, I've done it multiple times before. I know what a headache is and the definition of dehydration very well. But this bite was not something that I would easily recover from, if I ever did.
......
😪
...............
A loud, blaring noise stopped me from dosing off completely. Wide awake now, I let out a shriek and jerk the wheel sideways. Narrowly avoiding slamming through the guardrail and plunging to my death. Since jerking the steering wheel sideways isn't the best idea, my car spins a complete one hundred eighty degrees before coming to a stop.
The adrenaline rush faded quick, and I was left sitting in the front seat struggling to get air into my frantically expanding lungs. The headache from before had turned into a massive migraine, and my heart was trying to break it's way out of my chest rather violently. It only lasted for a couple of minutes, this panic attack of sorts. In that time, I thought I had died. That I'd come all this way, running from an inevitable doom, to crash off the side of a bridge.
Flashing lights in my rearview mirror dragged me out of this deranged state of mind. I hadn't died, and even if I had I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be around to talk to the officer walking up to my window. The uniformed man shined a terribly bright flashlight into my window, "Ma'am? Are you alright? It looks like you fell asleep at the wheel and just about clobbered that rail over there." He made a gesture to the rear of the vehicle. Since I'd spun around in my crazed attempt to not die, I could only assume he was pointing at the wall I had almost demolished.
So he must have been the loud noise I'd heard, blowing his horn to wake me up. I opened my mouth to respond, but then I noticed something that snatched all the breath away from my lungs. Another figure was coming toward my car. A tall, dark figure that moved with the grace of a lion about to suffocate it's prey. My gut twisted itself into knots of displeasure, screaming at me to run away.
My focus solely on the creature ahead, I began to reach slowly over to the center console. Unwilling to take my eyes off the approaching figure, I slide my hand onto the familiar holster and unsnap the locks.
"Ma'am? I'm going to have to ask you to step out of the car for a moment please." The officer insisted, stepping closer to open the door. As soon as he made this gesture, the thing vanished. Just like that. Poof. Gone.
I slid my gun out of its holster so quick I hardly had time to blink. It was pointed at my window in the space of a millisecond, but even that wasn't fast enough to outrun the beast. The kind officer was gone. Taken so quick that he hadn't even had the time to scream. The man who had saved me from one of the most stupidest ways to die had disappeared just like that. And I would soon be following the poor guy if I didn't get my bahooty outta there quick.
So shifting the transmission into gear, I steered the car sideways in one of those classic rubber burning, back end swinging, race you till the edge of this cliff, turns'. I plowed down the bridge like a pack of wolves were nipping at my heels. I rolled up my window, shifted into fifth gear, and kept my hand on my gun the entire way to town.
The first thought that came through my head afterwards was of sleep. The wonderful kind you get when you're past the point of exhausted and don't even have the will to dream. The timeless dark session that leaves you refreshed and ready to face the next day. I envied this type of rest, mostly because I never get the chance to experience it.
But sleep was out of the question. Whatever had taken the police officer back there would soon be on my tail, if it wasn't already. I didn't exactly need anymore beasts chasing after me...
So, when I idled into the small town of Mystic Falls, Virginia it was three o'clock in the morning. The adrenaline I had received from earlier events had worn off about two hours ago. Leaving me even more tired, hungry, and pained than before.
After the long three days that it'd been awake, I finally decided that it would be best if I got some sleep. Now I don't know about you, but the backseat of a car is not the most comfortable thing to try and rest on. But when you haven't slept in exactly forty-nine hours, you begin to not give a Flipping Uni-Corn Krap about where you sleep.
But I also knew what was lurking around in the dark just waiting for me to let my guard down. It hadn't caught up with me just yet, else I'd be in a ditch on the side of the road, but I didn't want to risk anything either. So I sucked it up and drove the couple of extra miles to a hotel.
I purchased a room. Dragged myself to the door and even managed to lock it afterwards, but once I got to that bed I was out like a rock.
□Bad writing starts here■
Pulling into the semi-crowded parking lot, I take the closest space to the entrance and turn the ignition off. I step out of my car and lock the door. As I walk across the parking lot toward the bar, I rub my forehead with a sigh. The job before had drained me, and just about killed me. I'd come from Beacon Hills, California, to Mystic Falls, Virginia. All the way across the country. To escape what? Some wolves?
Gosh, I hated running. But to be fair, there're certain times when you have to, if you wanna continue breathing that is. I've been traveling for at least a week, probably longer. To be honest, I have no idea how I made it this far. The past few days have been nothing but a blur of traffic and never-ending road. Somehow I managed to get all the way across the country with nothing but pure fear pushing me on. Seeing as I only stopped for the necessities, I'm surprised that I didn't crash at the first hotel I saw. Instead, I find myself at the Mystic Falls Bar and Grill. Seemingly the only bar in this little town. I needed to figure out what I was going to do. I couldn't run forever, and I had no doubt that they were already hot on my trail. I hadn't exactly left things all tied up in a nice and pretty bow. Now, I'm sure they were tied up, but it was with a bigger mess that even I couldn't handle...
Once I reach the entrance, I push open the door and I'm greeted by the sound of laughing, talking, and pool sticks clacking. This was not helping my headache, but I guess that's what I get for coming to the only bar in town. I walk over to the counterstrip and grab a stool. Crossing my arms on the cool surface of the bar, I wait patiently for the bartender to come around.
"What can I get for ya?" A tall, blonde haired, male asks. Jolted out of my thoughts, I look at his nametag, "Well Mat, I'd like a couple shots of the strongest stuff you got." I say, giving him a quick smile. He looks a bit shocked when I say his name, but then quickly realizes that he's wearing his tag. He chuckles, embarrassed. "Comin' right up Miss." He replies, trying to sound casual.
It had been a long day of driving, the past five being the same. I might just stay in town for a couple of days and rest up. And the more I think about it, the more attached to the idea I get. Mat puts a couple of shot glasses down in front of me, and begins filling them with the mysterious powerful liqueur. "Thanks." I mutter, downing one quickly. It tasted sour, as most alcohol did.
Someone sits down a few seats away, but I don't bother greeting them. I wasn't in the best mood to be chatting at the moment. I watch from the corner of my eye as Mat comes to take the customer's order, but hesitates quickly," What do you want, Damon." He asks, not really framing it as a question. The stranger laughs,"A couple shots of vodka." He pauses and makes a popping sound with his tongue. "Actually, just get me the entire bottle." He smirks and flicks his blue eyes over to me. With a sigh I stare at the screen in the right corner, where a reporter was going about the evening news.
Two images came up, showing a male and female. Both had naturally tanned skin, and black hair. Though the female's hair was curly and thick, and the male's thin and straight. If not for the different last names printed under each picture, I would have thought them to be siblings. Above the pictures' was the bright red letters that spelled: MISSING. Staring at the photos for a few moments longer, I ponder the information. Not to much happens in a small town, other than the occasional drug bust of course. This should have been scary news to the folks around, but not a one seemed interested in the problem. It was like they were used to it. Shaking my head to clear the thoughts, I pick up my second glass. Damon, as Mat had called him, cleared his throat to catch my attention. Frowning, I roll my eyes and turn my gaze to him. He sat looking at me with one arm on the bar, the other in his lap, and a cocky smirk plastered on his face. He had longish black hair and piercing blue eyes, his apparel consisted of the latest bad boy attire. Dark jeans with a nice leather jacket that matched his black tight fit t-shirt. Raising my eyebrows at him I mutter a,"What?" Rather unkindly in his direction. I see his eyes light up and his smirk widens, but it only makes my frown deepen. I could feel the alcohol in my system start to work it's magic. The liqueur wouldn't help my lack of sleep, but it did dull the ever constant pounding of my head. If anything, the guy beside me was handsome, but I didn't have time for that sort of stuff. I would leave town in a couple of days, and head north to Bobby's place. Why I didn't go there first I don't know, maybe I was just caught up in trying to escape.
I come out of my thoughts to find that my stalker has moved to the seat right next to me. "What do you want?" I ask, and turn to look at him once more. He had his own bottle, and took a swig of it. He then turned to match my gaze, with that same cocky smirk. "I just noticed that I've never seen you around here, so I thought to myself, she must be new." Rolling my eyes I say," Congrats Sherlock. You just solved the case. Now leave me be."
His smirk widens and his eyes brighten,"Pleasure to meet you too." Taking a deep breath, I let it out through my nose, showing my disinterest. Putting on a fake smile I put a twenty dollar bill on the counter. "." I say getting up from my seat and heading toward the door, the feeling of his eyes on me never leaving. "Perhaps another time." He says taking a shot of his own.
As soon as I was out of the bar I reached inside my coat and make sure my knife and pistol are safely tucked away,but easily accessed. Walking to my car, I quickly check the back windows just to be safe. I unlock the door and get in, putting the key in the ignition, I start my beautiful car up. Backing out of the parking place and onto the road, I put it in gear and start the drive back to the hotel I was staying at. Pulling out my phone I decide to call Bobby, and inform him in on the past few days. He picks up on the third ring. "Yes?" His familiar voice sounds through the speaker. "Hello Bobby." I say to him.
"Zoey. Good to hear from ya." He says with a hint of relief.
"Yeah. Been busy with a case up in California with some wolves." I claim, driving down the road, my head lights the only thing breaking through the darkness that night. "Everything go well?" He asks. "Well sort of, I got a nasty bite on my arm and got beat up a bit. So overall? No, no it didn't." I say glancing down at my bandaged arm. " Zo, I thought I told you to be careful. And did you say bite?" He exclaims from the other side of the line. " Yeah I did Bobby, but this was a different type of werewolf. They have glowing eyes and they don't eat organs, they eat normal food. And it seems to me like they have complete control over their animal, it's like it's not even there." I explain hastily.
"Zo I don't care what type of wolf it was! You need to get your a$$ down here now!" He yells into his phone. "Bobby it's really alright. It doesn't hurt or anything, and its not healing real fast so that means I'll be fine. " My lie hidden behind a thick sound of confidence. The line was silence for a moment," Well I still want ya to come here so I can take a look at it." Was all he said. "Of course Bobby. I'll be up there in a couple of days if everything goes as planned." I respond.
"Where did you say you were at?" He asks changing the subject. "Mystic Falls, Virginia." "Ah,I think the boys were heading down to them parts sometime. " He says with a slight worry in his voice. "Bobby I'll be fine. I'll see ya in a couple of days alright?" I say, my tone sounding confident, at least I thought so. "Alright kid. See ya later." He says with defeat. "Night Bobby." And with that I shut my flip phone and set it on the dashboard.