Chapter Two

The sky was bleak with fog lingering low to the ground. Everything was quiet- motionless- just like the stars at night. Everything seemed to be dead, but at the same time, full of life. It was a normal, early morning; a morning thoughtless with its unoccupied moments and territory. The only things that seemed to move were the sunrise-runners. They act as if they have nothing to loose, nothing to gain, yet they run for something. They never stop; they never want to. They just want to reach whatever it is, but it never gets any closer. It's always distant; they feel as if it's almost there, right in front of them, and all they have to do is reach out their hand and clench their fingers around it, but it's just that one inch farther. If they could but touch it, they would feel the release of grasping what they want and the finality of its possession.

Sitting by the window sill, Anca is witness to the runner's' determination and strength of mind. She couldn't help but envy them. She sighed and took a sip of her green tea; she grimaced at how hot it was. Aggravation driving her, she pushed herself up and roamed her living room.

Her carpet was a soft, yet powerful maroon and it went magnificently with the cream colored walls. There was a television of course - what sane person can live without the nightmares on the television screen that sing us to sleep? It was your normal, everyday living room.

Though, there was on being that occupied it that wasn't supposed to be real – Anca. She is not supposed to exist – her race, for she was a vampire – the fictional characters you read about. She wasn't supposed to be walking the earth as if she were a mortal. No. It's not supposed to be. Even she thinks so. Even she thinks she is not meant to be, and who wouldn't? She honestly has no reason to continue walking the Earth, for she is cursed to an eternity of loneliness. Gabriel will never let her be; he will never stop watching her.

She shuddered at the horrifying memory that took place one year prior.

Being practically paranoid she could swear she felt his lingering eyes on her and she spun around, her heard spinning in all directions as if searching for the handsome vampire to be standing in her living room.

Feeling as if she was about to scream, she slammed down her mug and tea slashed out as if the liquid had a mind of its own. Creating small, separate puddles of their own, they slowly moved and combined as one – them wanting to be with each other – each particle of liquid.

Anca fell to her knees on the floor and entangled her fingers in her hair as she was an inch away from pulling out every strand of her raven hair she possessed. "Why are you doing this to me!" she screamed out in frustration. She let out an endless cry and she felt her throat go raw. Being alone, with absolutely no one could drive someone on the brink of insanity and then push them over the edge – causing them to do anything to feel any type of release. Taking in a breath, she released her hair and leaned her head back, closing her eyes shut, not wanting to see the life she was leading – not wanting to be a spectator in her boring life.

She felt the bile rise in her throat, but she was not about to let herself cry. No. She would never lower herself to tears. She would never let those salty bags of liquid cascade down her cheeks. Never, she told herself. Never.

The doorbell rang and she gazed at her red door. She stared at it for an endless amount of time, and it rang its cheery song again. She unhurriedly pushed herself up and opened the door.

A short man who was actually smaller than her stood at her door. His head was mostly bald and the rest had short blonde hair. He was wearing a light blue mailman outfit and she obviously knew she had a letter, but she DID have a mailbox and for some odd reason, the letter was delivered right to her; personally. Anca narrowed her eyes in confusion and the stocky man only handed over a letter wrapped in a cream color envelope and a crimson red ribbon was wrapped around it as well. She took no heed to the mailman who was still standing at her porch as she closed her door, still eyeing the letter, and moved to her living room. She still had her look of confusion on as she ripped open the envelope and took out the letter.

It was on plain white paper and it looked as if it was written in the old fashion feather and ink.

It read:

So fair, so young.

So beautiful, so strong.

I see you day by day.

You know who this is.

I watch your every move.

I listen to your every conversation.

I care about every strand on your head.

Don't get any ideas, little one,

For I am always watching you, always haunting you, and I will never stop.

You, who denied being mine, will always be alone…