Keeping tempo [please nobody after first]

Subject: Keeping tempo [please nobody after first] Tue Oct 09, 2007 11:10 pm

Name: Wendy Taylor
Age: 19
---

A cry, so faint, so high pitched that it was nearly impossible to believe she had actually heard it. But Wendy Taylor knew that her son was coming. She knew that when Zach Allen walked through that Delivery Room door she would scream and it would be over. It hurt so badly, yet she seemed to be floating and the pain ebbed away, became so faint she'd thought she'd gone numb. All was black, because she had eyes shut tight, but the sounds-they had been so loud only a moment ago-were all but gone.

She's fading She heard, someone had spoken, someone was pouding on her chest, but she could see nothing, her eyes wouldn't open, or they were open and she had become blind. She couldn't hear anything, even the air tasted different than it had a minute ago, a second ago.

Piercing through her clouded nothingness came a loud, booming voice let me fix her then there was silence. The slight stinging quit and there was nothing.

----

"Wendy?" She reached up, knowing that the voice belonged to her lover, Zach Allen. It hurt to reach up, it hurt everywhere. She opened her eyes and still, could only see black. She was slowly brought back to reality and began to remember what had happened. What had happened? She couldn't be sure.

"Wendy?" Zach said again, reaching, holding her close. She was crying, she realized, but she was unable to speak. "Wendy? Wendy, what happened?" She vaguely knew she was shaking her head. "Don't cry, baby, don't cry. You can wait, I can wait. Tell me later."

But she never got a chance.

---

Name: Wendy Taylor
Age: 21

---

You have one new message Said the answering machine as Wendy pressed the button on her home phone. She set down her keys and threw her purse on the couch. Taking off her shoes she stepped into the kitchen while the phone clicked into voicemail. Hey Wendy. It's Amanda. I know you don't want to talk, but I think you've ignored me long enough. It wasn't your fault, Wendy. So stop blaming yourself. I saw you at work today, I passed by. Wendy, you look dead. Like a shell, a husk. You're okay, Wendy, you just gotta snap out of this. Zach's death was- but Wendy couldn't, and wouldn't ever, hear the rest of the message, because she brought the side of her fist down on the phone and it smashed into pieces. She cried out, not in pain, at least not physical pain, but writhing agony from inside of her.

---

Name:Wendy Taylor
Age: 20
---

The doctor who had saved Wendy's life had been a vampire, believe it or not. For the last year Wendy had tried to understand what had happened. Four months after losing her baby and nearly dying she had finally gained her voice back and was allowed to wander the house. She wasn't, however, allowed to go outside and that agrivated her more than she would ever let on. She was like a child, all over again, and Zach even quit his job to watch her 24/7. He played games with her, we watched TV with her. They baked together, giggling and slinging things. But never once did they open a window, a door, step out into the sunshine or the dewy grass in the morning.

One day Wendy grew bored and tired of being stuck inside when she knew there was so much more than the white washed walls that had become her home. She had stood up from her corss-legged spot on the floor in front of the television, while Zach was in the bathroom, taking a shower, and reached out to touch the handle of the sliding glass door that led to the backyard. It shocked her, because of the electrons in the handle and her socked feet being dragged across the carpet of the living room and she reeled back, thinking she now knew why she was forbidden outdoors.

But Zach left every once in a while, out the front door, for supplies. Food, paper, milk...

Once he was gone Wendy would pull back the blinds of the windows and watch the rain, or the sun, she'd watch the wind blow the swings of the set out back, but she never tried to escape into the cool summer air.

---

It was nearly two years that she had been stuck in the house, with only the comics of the sunday paper to tell her of the outside world. She rarely ever understood or laughed at the comics, but it was something to do and she loved the smell and color it left on her fingertips.

Around 2 o'clock one friday evening it was quiet, because Wendy had insisted the television stay turned off, and the radio had nothing good on. She poured herself a glass of orange juice and said, "you know Zach, today is my 21st birthday."

He looked up at her from the couch, surprised. "What?"

"You forgot, didn't you? Just like last year, when I asked why I felt like today was special and you got this look in your eye like you knew, but you didn't tell me." Zach shook his head, but Wendy knew he hadn't done anything special for her today.

"Wendy, I'm sorry." He says, and she knows he means it. "I wanted to get you something, but I was afriad you didn't remember, and I didn't want you to ask what it was for. It would have killed me to tell you it was your birthday."

"I know what I want for my birthday." She said, no emotion in her voice as she put the OJ away. "And you don't have to go buy it." He didn't ask how she knew he bought things, when she hadn't even remembered she was a year older last year.

"What is it, sweetheart?" He asked, standing up. She walked to the back window, the one closest to the sliding doors and Zach held his breath, not knowing what she was going to do.

"I want you to push me on the swing set," she pointed, her fingerprint sticking to the window as she set her fingertip there, still pointing to the rusty swings in the backyard.

"Wendy..."

"You won't do it, will you?" She accused, turning her gaze on him. Her electric blue eyes seemed to cut through him like a knife.

"I can't."

"Why not?" She held them back, but one escaped and the salty tear cascaded down her cheek, falling to the floor. You could almost hear the splash. The silence that followed was deafening.

He reached out for her, took a step forward, but she dropped the glass of orange juice she had been holding, the one she had JUST poured, and it shattered on the tile of the kitchen. She was just about to flee up the stairs when the doorbell rang. She raced to open it, aware that she hadn't done so for two years now. She hadn't opened much of anything.

"Doctor Umbargo," she said, surprised, when she saw the doctor who had saved her life. He seemed just as surprised that she knew who he was. Her flaming red hair was much longer now, and in need of a cut. But she was still beautiful as ever, if not paler from lack of outdoor activities.

"Miss Taylor," he said, nodding his greeting. "May I speak with Mr. Allen."

"Why can't you speak with me?" She asked, her eyes narrowed and she blocked the open space between the jamb and the door with her own body. "I'm perfectly capable of understanding whatever it is you have to say about me."

---

He had bitten her, she realized. She had cried out, but Zach was already there. He said some foul words to the Doctor, but the doctor pushed himself into the house. Doctor Umbargo did not take kindly to Zach and back-handed him, sending the boy down the hall with a terrible force that probably broke his jaw and his neck. Again Wendy cried out, but the doctor was already back from the kitchen, holding a butcher knife. He held it close to him, closing the front door now.

"Now," he said, his voice even, "you be a good girl and quiet down." Wendy whimpered, forgetting all of the last two years with a snap. She fell to the ground and was immediately pulled back to her feet by the man she suddenly feared most.

"What do you want?" She managed. The doctor laughs, like it should be obvious, but he says nothing. Wendy repeats herself but he still says nothing. Finally he brings the knife down his collorbone slowly and blood appears. "What are you doing?" She asks, her eyes wide with fear.

"Saving you," he whispers, and grabs a handful of her hair, pulling her to him. Her mouth falls over his cut and she hears the sound of the knife hitting the floor. His arms wrap around her and she feels herself floating again, like two years ago, before the white walls cave.

---

Wendy threw herself onto the couch and cried. She cried because she had finally found herself and she didn't like who she was. She cried because Zach was dead. And she cried because she couldn't let go. She cried because Zach was the only thing on her mind. She cried because it WAS her fault Zach was dead, no matter what anyone else said. She had had to open the door, she had had to tell the doctor he couldn't come in and that he should tell her what he had to say. But maybe it would have happened this way anyway.

Either way, she was a vampire.
Thanks to Doctor Umbargo.

Speaking of the doctor, she had come to have something with him. They lived together, they slept together, they walked together. The only thing they didn't do was work together. Even though she was far too young for him, in vampire years, they were near enough in age from a mortal point of view not to draw suspicion.

She didn't love him, and she knew he didn't love her. But they were the only ones able enough to have a relationship, as vampires do. It almost disgusted her that she slept with him, but not enough to make her stop, to turn her back on him. He'd find her anyway.

She didn't have to worry, there wasn't much that could kill a vampire; there was only one way. And vampires couldn't get pregnant.

She cried for this reason too. Her and Zach had been soul mates, she knew this, and the fact that she was sleeping with her soul mate's killer was also sickening, but there was next to nothing she could do. Dallas, that's what they had decided to name their son, had died while Wendy was giving birth. This was because she was going to die and if she had it would have killed "Dallas" anyway. But Doctor Umbargo had saved her, and he made it clear he thought she should repay him with pleasure, even if it was one sided.

She couldn't lie, Umbargo was very kind to her now, and he never forced her, at least not so much. And she enjoyed it, when she forgot what had happened before then. And even when she thought of what they were, what he'd done, she still enjoyed Umbargo, though it wasn't nearly as much as he enjoyed her.

Today, she wouldn't be here when Umbargo returned from work though.

When he got home he found the note on the kitchen counter.
Out to find myself. Be back soon. It wasn't signed, but he knew who it was from, who else but his luster? No, how long was soon. For a vampire "soon" could mean fifty years. Maybe a hundred. Maybe she wouldn't even come back. He'd give her ten days, then he'd go looking for her. It wouldn't be hard. Not at all.

---

Wendy huddled herself against the wind, pulling her oversized coat around her even tighter. Her extremely pale face was nearly covered between her hat and her coat's brim. She sped into a coffee shop she didn't reconize and pulled off her coat against the warmth of the shoppe. She was amazed at the difference from the blaring winter to the cozy coffee place.

She bought nothing and looked around, every table was filled with someone. She found a young man sitting alone in a two seater booth and walked over. He wasn't wearing a ring, so he wasn't married, and there was no one around him, so she cleared her throat. "Do you mind if I sit here with you?" She asked.

[OKAY! This guy she is going to sit with becomes her lover, but she doesn't tell Umbargo about it, though she does return home. They become very close and Wendy wants to leave Umbargo forever and make him another piece of her past. But this young man is a simple mortal, he won't live long, beside Wendy. She doesn't care, though, and they do eveything they can to stay together, even when Umbargo finds out about her 'affair'.]

Subject: Re: Keeping tempo [please nobody after first] Wed Oct 10, 2007 10:40 pm

//I'm nowhere near as good at you for length but i'll try my best lol.//

Drake Morris was a strong, handsome man at 23, his glistening black hair hinting at a sense of self pride in his appearance. he had green eyes with a hint of brown glinting in each, so fleeting as though it were an illusion of the mind rather than a permenant colour. He stood tall at 6"3' and was well-built, with a classically defined face.

Never married, Drake had meandered between many women, fooling himself there was a special spark at the first meeting, only for it to fizzle out in a matter of weeks. He spent most of his life in coffee shops, his one retreat from his empty, lifeless apartment which looked barely lived in, apart from the crumpled bed linen he rarely bothered to fix. The kitchen was mostly full of bare cupboards, possibly a few tins of some long-forgotten food. He chose to eat out at restaurants or cafe's, usually with his nose in a book or scribbling away on an artists pad. He was no genius painter, in his own opinion, but it never stopped him sketching. He didn't work, having inherited his fathers money, but he was no layabout or snob, either. Drake gave the impression of being a loner, but he simply struggled to meet like-minded people.

On this day, he had just put down his sketchpad halfway through a sketch of a woman who had been working in the coffee shop and had recently left. It was time for him to drink his coffee which had been steaming away almost as though it were a friend impatient for his attention. He had just brought it to his lips when he heard a voice asking if they could sit down. He choked on the hot liquid, wiping away what he spluttered out in his shock with a napkin.

"Sure" he answered, still mentally kicking himself for how stupid his blunder must have appeared. "It's busy in here today isn't it.." he was at a loss for words, the girl who had spoken was immensely pretty, and there it was, the spark he could never rely on, but different. She was different. His green eyes glistened with his own confusion.

Subject: Re: Keeping tempo [please nobody after first] Thu Oct 11, 2007 12:15 am

Her own vibrantly blue eyes flashed as they met his confused green ones. "Thank you." She nodded, yes, it was extremely busy.

After a moment of silence Wendy bit her lip, "I'm sorry I made you choke," she said, smiling a little, trying her hardest to be friendly. It had been a long time since she'd associated with new people. "I'm Wendy." She offered, trying to find something to say. "Wendy Taylor."

She let her eyes travel away from his and around the cafe again. It was almost like a sauna with the body heat, the crampness of it all. She felt suffocated, but she couldn't leave yet. Something had pulled her to this man and she wouldn't leave until she was a) forced to or b) satisfied with her feelings.

Subject: Re: Keeping tempo [please nobody after first] Thu Oct 11, 2007 1:04 am

"Drake Morris" he responded when she told him her name. "And don't worry about the choking, I can do that fine by myself on any given day" he smirked, trying to break the ice. He sensed her discomfort and though he didn't understand it, he felt obliged to make her feel at ease.

"Would you like a coffee?" he asked her, his eyes wandering over to one of the overworked waitresses battling their way through the crowd which was beginning to resemble a football stadium. "I'm sure we can get one for you" he said, but frowned, thinking that he would have to go and get it, he hated to overload the poor waitresses any further.

He looked at Wendy again, anticipating her answer.

Subject: Re: Keeping tempo [please nobody after first] Sat Oct 13, 2007 8:22 pm

Wendy shook her head, not remembering the last time she'd had a coffee. Or anything to drink, or eat, for that matter. She smiled kindly at him, "no thank you."

She scanned his face, he seemed sincere enough, not trying to get anything. Just being nice. This alone made her stay, even when her instinct told her to bolt for the door.

Her mind wandered to Umbargo. He was definitely home by now, but was he looking for her? Did he trust her enough not to come looking? Was he already here? Would he hurt Drake?
Speaking of hurt. she was thirsty, but Coffee would help none. She needed blood, but Drake's was a no.

Talking to him even this long, like this, made it impossible for her to do so. Even if she had been a vampire for this long, her morals hadn't changed too much.