I watched dejectedly as the happy couples and families poured out of the ritzy restaurant. They coudln't see me watching them, because I was sitting on a bech across the street.
I'm sure you're wondering why I was watching them, so I'll tell you. Just bear with me while I tell my story. For starters, my name is Jacob and I'm 23 years old. I look pretty average, with light brown hair and green eyes, nothing special. I'm about 5'7 and 120 pounds. My small frame often puts out a vulnerable aura and makes people want to protect me, but that hasn't been the case for most of my life.
I grew up in Kentucky with my abusive parents. We lived like pigs in a shitty trailer park with others trailers packed close to us. I was desperate to escape that place, and I knew that someday I would.
One day, after an especially brutal beating, I paked my bags and snuck out. I hitchhiked all the way to D.C., where I worked as a prostitute. It's a shameful part of my past, but I had to do what I had to do.
Eventually, I left D.C. and went hopped on a train to New York. I had nothing except a duffle bag full of clothes and fifty bucks in my pocket.
Now, I wait tables in a shitty restaurant, live in a shitty apartment in the shitty part of town, and basically have a all-arund shitty life.
Now that you know my story, we can get back to the present. Seeing the happy people file out of the restaurant was tough. I yearned for something like that. Not necessarily a family, just someone who would love me and cherish me. But I knew that that wish would never come true, because I had no one.
After a while, I got up and wandered dwn the street towards my apartment. When I rounded the street corner, I heard echoing footsteps behind me. I walked a little faster, hoping to distance myself from the person following me, but the person behind me sped up as well. I broke into a full sprint and ran in the direction of my building. Halfway there, my pursuer caught up with me.
I felt a strong arm wrap around my waist and pull me into a dark alley. I tried to scream, but nothing came out; I was completely frozen. Huge hands encircled my throat and squeezed. I fought and clawed, but couldn't loosen his hold on me. My strength began to drain away and I was getting lightheaded.
Suddenyl, the hands were gone and I fell to the ground, gasping and choking. To my left I heard a cry of pain and a sickening crunch; then all was quiet.
I looked up and saw a tall, graceful figure towering over me. He bent down and reached for me.
Then everything went black.
I woke in a soft bed with pillows surrounding me. The room was dark, but sliver moonlight filtered in throught the curtains covering the windows.
Where the hell am I? I thought.
My throat was killing me and it hurt to swallow. Circling my small hand around my neck, I felt the bruises starting to come up.
"You're awake," a deep voice said from the corner.
I almost jumped out of my skin.
"Who's there?" I demanded in a shaky voice.
I heard a chuckle and saw the man, for he was undoubtably a man, walk over to me and turn on the bedside lamp. The light stung my eyes, but they soon adjusted. When I could see again, I was staring into the face of the most beautiful creature I had ever seen.
He was tall, well over six feet, even accounting for the problem of perspective with me sitting down. He was definitely not slight either. Broad shoulders narrowed into slender hips, which flowed into lean, muscular legs. His face was very pale but perfect- all distict planes and surfaces, with high-angled cheekbones meeting black eyebrows that shadowed and sheilded his eyes. His mouth was wide, with full lips.
In his black trousers and soft gray sweater, with a shock of golden hair swept back from his forehead and cropped close to the nape of his neck, he looked like a model out of GQ.
He smiled at me. It was a soft smile that put me at ease.
"Hello," he said, extending his hand. His voice was smooth, like warm honey.
"Um, hello," I said talking his hand. His skin was cool and smooth. "Where am I? And who are you?" I aksed, hopeful that I didn't sound rude.
He gave another warm smile and sat on the edge of the bed. His movements were surprisingly graceful for a man of his size.
"You're in my apartment. You're safe now," he said gently as he patted my hand. "My name is Henry Clairmont."
"Thank you for saving me," I said awkwardly. "My name's Jacob Smith."
"I know," he started to chuckle, then he caught himself.
"How do you know my name?" I asked, my sense of security vanishing.
he ignored the question and reached out to touch my neck. "You'll have some bruises," ha said, his cool fingers softly stroking my neck.
His touch sent shivers up my spine. I wanted him to touch me everywhere.
Then I came back to my senses. "What happened to the man who attacked me?"
"I took care of him," he said grimly, a shadow of anger passing over his face.
"How did you egt him off of me? How were you moving so fast?" I asked.
Once again, he ignored my question. "You need to rest. Let me know if you need anything."
Before I could ask him anythign else, he turned and walked from the room and closed the door.
I lay back on the pillows. Why did Henry(I loved the way his name sounded) bring me here? How did he move so fast? And why did he avoid my questions?
In the middle of thinking about his perfect face, a thought came to me.
Considering the current popularity of vampires, Henry definitely fit the moldf: gorgeous, pale, cold skin.
I quickly dismissed the thought. It was utterly ridiculous to think that. Vampires don't exist, I thought.
I pushed those thoughts out of my mind, and concentrated on sleeping. When I was almost asleep, Henry's face appeared behind my eyelids, allowing all the banished thougths to flood back in.
He couldn't be a vampire.....could he?
To be continued....