"Irene…? I was told you'd b-be down here…" It wasn't exactly the voice Irene expected to hear. When she heard the creaking of the stairs, she sat up and waited for Cyrus or Layla. Instead a giant walking overcoat entered.

"Amber? What are you doing here?"

Amber took off her large coat and slung it over her skinny forearm, which was covered in a tight but long-sleeve shirt. She looked pensively at Irene, but then did a rare thing. She smiled. It wasn't that nervous pulling at the corners of her lips Irene had seen before, but this was a genuine smile. Irene patted a spot beside her on her bed, and Amber accepted the invitation.

"I wanted to see for myself that you were alright," Amber responded obligingly, without stuttering. Instead of feeling reassured, Irene was instead concerned and perplexed.

"Oh… I am fine. But I didn't expect you to want to check on me," Irene admitted. Amber shook her head and glanced over her shoulder at Irene.

"You… we… well… I d-don't know… it's just that you got caught in the same mess I am in… and I sort of…although they say things are alright now, I just felt a b-b-bit, well, still scared. Seeing you okay, though, I a little safer," Amber shyly explained.

"But I'm not okay! Just look at me! Well, I don't know what I look like, but I feel like a disaster!" Irene exclaimed. "Besides that, I'm no longer human!" Her own words fell on her with such coldness that she shuddered.

Amber shook her head. "No… b-b-but you are alive! And you aren't crying. You seem as together as always."

Irene took in a large sigh, feeling another shudder. She reached out with her still good arm and grasped Amber's shoulder firmly, but did not look into her eyes. "Amber, I want to cry. Right now I just can't. I have been through a lot of pain, and although Gabriel is gone, I can't see any future for myself. The fear of what he'd do to me is gone, but it was never a fear of just death. I don't WANT to be a vampire, Amber! I just want to be a normal girl… god those words sound so trite," Irene slowly lifted her head and looked towards Amber, whose smile had receded to a dainty frown.

"You were given a second chance at life, isn't that… isn't that sp-p-pecial? My father, he, well, he always t-told me t-t-to b-be grateful that I have a roof over my head… and I am! Really… I just wish it wasn't his roof," Amber shared, fingers twisting the hem of her shirt. "I somet-t-times think I'd b-b-be lost or dead on the streets, Irene. B-b-but I learned what I had, though not that great, was b-b-b-better than my… uh… other, um, option. You could be dead right now, b-b-but you aren't. You don't WANT to b-b-be…" Amber's voice fell to a whisper, "..d-d-dead?"

Irene went silent and glanced down at her knees. She realised with vast distress that she wasn't sure that she wanted to be alive at all. That only meant that she wanted to die. Is that what I really want? "I'm sorry Amber. I didn't think of it that way. I have a lot to think about… if you could leave me alone for a while."

Amber lingered a moment longer as if to say something, but then turned and quickly made her exit. Irene deflated with relief and fell sideways on to her pillow.

As time passed and Irene meditated upon her predicament and battled with her own feelings, the pain of her injuries steadily streamed back into her. It felt like it had been hours, but she did not hear anyone around her. She curled up, trying to grit her teeth and bear the pain, but the feeling of being so alone made her feel uncommonly depressed and abandoned.

A new pang added to the torment. Hunger wreaked havoc inside of her, and her eyes grew hot and dry. She'd never wanted anyone so much as she wanted Layla or Cyrus at that moment. Even her own father would not bring the relief she so desperately needed. She wouldn't want to be anywhere near her father, as now she might be a threat to him.

Amidst her anguish, Irene did not hear anyone approach. She gasped and jumped when a hand touched her shoulder. There, a vision of beauty and compassion, was Layla. Irene's nostrils flared with the smell of warm, freshly drained blood, and her eyes settled upon a cup Layla held in her hand. Irene rabidly reached for it, seizing it and draining the content before she could even bring a coherent thought to her mind. Such thoughts came afterwards, and they were of disgust and self-loathing. She threw the cup across the room and screamed in pure abhorrence.

"Calm yourself, Irene," Layla said soothingly. Irene's eyes flashed as she turned them again on Layla. This monument of everything Irene adored, or so she felt herself tricked into believing. Nearly all of her essence was drawn to love this woman against her will. Her anger exploded with such force as to break through the enchantment; Irene flung an arm feebly at Layla. With unnatural agility, Layla intercepted Irene's hand and then forced it down into Irene's lap. "Calm yourself Irene."

"Calm myself!? You turned me into a monster! I HATE YOU!" Irene screamed at Layla, freeing her hand. Layla let it go without any argument. Irene heaved in her rage, and she barely noticed the bit of feral drool that had leaked out one corner of her mouth. Layla's calmness seemed to sting, causing Irene to ball her hand into a fist and swing at her again, fighting against the encroaching feelings that tried to force her to worship this woman.

To Irene's surprise, she landed a blow on Layla's shoulder, but there was a horrible grinding feeling amidst her fingers, forcing her to withdraw. But Layla winced. That was worth the pain. Her rage rose again and she pushed forward, swinging at Layla over and over, and each time feeling no resistance. Deep down, she craved a reprisal. However, Layla did not indulge her and took hit after hit.

Irene was still swinging at Layla when her arm was wrenched back and she was pulled away. Her eyes stared at the blood draining out of Layla's full lips, and that small deposit of blood beneath one of her nostrils. A few measly drops of blood on an unfazed face was the culmination of her exertions. She felt herself spun around, forced to face Cyrus, who glared at her.

"Enough! You're hurting yourself!" Cyrus yelled. Irene realized her fist was bruised and bleeding. Quickly his voice dropped a few decibels and added, "and you're hurting Layla!" He gave her a shake as her eyes drooped away from him, forcing her to stare back up at him. "Layla provided you with blood before taking any herself, and this is how you repay her?"

"Cyrus… you can't blame the child," Layla interrupted. His gaze slowly shifted beyond Irene. A strange surrealism took a hold of her as she replayed the bouts of rage she had just experienced. She let her head droop and closed her eyes tight. Irene wanted to just turn into water and slip out of Cyrus' grasp, and remain as a puddle of the floor.

"Oh yes I can! Princess High-and-Mighty knows better!" Cyrus retorted hastily.

"Precisely. You know she's better than that. Which means you overestimated a struggling soul. She needed to vent, and I am unharmed," Layla insisted. Irene felt even lower. She attacked a woman who had just fed her.

"I hate to point out the obvious, but you're bleeding," Cyrus mentioned dryly.

"It is not serious. You have had worse and laughed it off," Layla countered calmly. Irene knew this could go on for a while longer. Most of her wished it would, but a small and more centered part of her objected. That objection was so loud that it forced her to open her eyes and speak.

"I'm sorry!" she cried. Perhaps it didn't sound to them as an objection, but Irene just wanted the bickering to stop. Cyrus glanced down at her again, his grip softening but still holding her up. He dragged her back onto her bed and set her down.

"Irene, just what was all that about?"

Irene wanted to revive that anger, but she only felt numb emotionally, and physically sore. Sickness urged itself upon her once more. The constant going between extremes of pain and numbness were wearing down her nerves.

"I can't… forgive this. I wish you had let me die! I can't go on like this…" Irene struggled to say, the words sounding hollow, like she was reading a script out of a drama. "I… I… I… wasn't even any help."

"Nonsense Irene! You're in pain and exhausted," Cyrus responded. He put a hand very gently on Irene's shoulder. "Just… don't attack Layla again. A show of ingratitude is… well it's an unwritten rule you just don't fight with your sire!"

"You mean… dam?" Irene asked.

Cyrus showed a full set of teeth in a large laughing grin, and yet he made no sound. He stroked Irene's hair. "Or your dam," he said with a nod. "Look, we'll take care of you and your wounds. If you never want to see either of us ever again, I will understand. I won't LIKE it, but I'll understand. In fact I'll feel quite injured and betrayed, but no pressure." Cyrus slowly stood up again. "I'm tired myself… so I'm going to pass out on yonder bed."

"This basement… isn't… big… enough…" Irene coughed out. Flashes of hot and cold throttled her body amidst the pain, and she literally felt herself withering. Her head began to pound, alternating her from feeling light and faint to heavy and unbalanced.

"I can sleep comfortably on the floor," Layla said. "There won't be time for me to reach my domain before dawn." Irene glanced over at Layla who remained at her side. Irene studied Layla; she was very different from Cyrus or Gabriel. She wasn't going to forgive Layla just yet, but she knew she had to depend upon her kindness. Layla leaned closer to Irene. "I'll let you drink again to help you sleep… but I can't give you my wrist too often if you ever wish to be independent from me," Layla whispered. Irene's eyes widened.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

"What do you mean?" Irene croaked.

Layla's face offered a slight smile. "Three times too many, and one can not live without a vampire's promise of blood. You'll thirst only for my blood and will sacrifice that which makes you whole to suckle from me," Layla explained in such a hushed tone Irene was amazed she understood it all through the throbbing of her pain. Irene's eyes grew wide. She craved relief from this pain, but the cost would be long term and detrimental to what she wanted: freedom. Irene closed her eyes tight considering this. The loudness of the pain overrode her latent desires.

"Also drinking vampire blood too often gives you bad breath," Cyrus piped in. "Once Gabriel got the Stench..." Cyrus trailed off.

"No… I don't want to..." Irene choked. Layla nodded and remained at her side. Irene felt a gentle hand rub along her upper arm and then rested on her shoulder. She laid down and closed her eyes, trying to fight the agony her body and soul were wracked with. Layla's hand was cool, but still somewhat warming. Then it was gone and she heard just a vague noise as Layla moved from her bedside.

"Think she's asleep?" Cyrus' voice asked hours later. Irene stayed perfectly still. She had been drifting in and out peacefully, but that voice brought her attention forward.

"I think she has been in and out of slumber," responded Layla. Irene kept her eyes closed and tried to appear asleep.

"Mmmm… hey… Breaches, you awake?" asked Cyrus voice. Irene did not respond. He waited a little and then she heard a crinkling from somewhere in the room then a shuffling noise. Soon she felt a presence hovering above her, and it took a lot of willpower to not turn her head and look. She could almost physically feel his shadow laying on her. "Irene?"

"Let her rest Cyrus," Layla reproached. There was another shuffling and then silence. Irene waited, her one ear pinched against the pillows, making the blood flowing in and out of the vessels in her head seem very loud.

"I am making sure she is doing just that," Cyrus responded. His voice traveled over to where Layla's voice came from.

"I'm not sure this girl will make the transition," Layla responded in her cool, collected tones.

"Naw, she may be having a hard time now, but she's deceptively sturdy. Her friend, um, Merle I think was her name, completely cracked. There will be no easy way of getting her friend out of the psyche ward, and the longer that she's there she's vampire chow," Cyrus reflected. Irene bit her lip and tried very hard not to call out and demand to know more.

"Her fate is not necessarily death,," Layla countered thoughtfully. Irene peeked one eye open only to shut it again. She didn't have time to really see either expression and hoped no one noticed.

"Well, yes, I suppose. I guess Irene will just have to face that her friend isn't locked up because she claims vampires did it, but because she's really broken. That's the problem… this age of science has bred generations upon generations of weak-minded mortals," Cyrus sighed.

"No… when such innovations began in abundance they were rejected. Relics of the past brought to this day may very well cause most to break, but inventions from this era brought to the superstitious past would equally rupture them. It is not that there are more or less weak psyches, it is merely two different ages," came Layla's voice. There was a pause and then a gentle sound of a tongue pulling away from the roof of one's mouth. "I digress, the world of technology still intrigues but eludes me. They call us monsters, Cyrus… the ones who know or pretend to know. Yet, they have created larger, more devastating monsters of steel and sky fire. If they discovered us… we would likely be doomed."

"Psh! We can BEND their steel! We can spit out their bullets. Their technology isn't anything we can't handle!" Cyrus retorted in a poor attempt of reassurance.

"Do not forget that bloody war in Germany… our numbers were crippled!" Layla responded.

There was a loud groan from Cyrus. "I always hated those Germans! The Dutch, too!" And now Irene could add racism to one of Cyrus's many endearing qualities. "They were a pest in my mortal life and never stopped BEING a pest until the last couple of decades. That's almost three centuries of pest status! And people say I'm a pest. I suppose if my caravan weren't fleeing from those horrible gypsy hunts, I'd never have met Lysandra…. and I wouldn't even be ancient history because no one talks about it. Aaaah. Hurts my mind too much to think about the alternatives."

"Cyrus, that was the distant past. I'm more concerned about the more recent events. It was almost half a century ago that they slaughtered vampires en masse. It could happen again. We are not so invincible. If anything, they have a superiority of mind once they overcome the fear, and will study better ways in which to eliminate us," Layla said, bringing the conversation back full circle with a stern conclusion.

"Fine, whatever. You certainly have a lot more to say since you've been burned. Don't tell me your near death experience has changed you. I cannot abide change! Adaptation is fine, but change is unforgivable!" Cyrus grumbled.

"If it pleases you, Master Cyrus, I shall not tell you any such thing," Layla responded stoically.

There was a long pause and Irene almost felt herself falling back to sleep. However, a voice drew her back to consciousness.

"It aches to be unforgiven by someone I have bonded myself to. But I admit that I only saved her for your sake." Irene's fingers dug into her pillow, and she fought to look relaxed in spite of how tense she was becoming.

"So… you didn't think about her future at all?" Cyrus asked. Irene felt heat fill her ears and was sure her face must have been turning red. If they looked at her, they'd know she was listening.

"No, only yours. I know it was careless to create life with such abandon, but… I panicked," Layla admitted, her tone dropping a few decibels. There was another awkward pause.

"I have a hard time imagining you panicking. I suppose… even you have your moments. Actually… it makes you seem less distant. Anyway, Irene won't let me close to her, not now, not ever. I've come to accept that. Sort of. Well, maybe only just a little bit. Regardless, you might have more luck with her, so I expect you'll take good care of our little monster." Cyrus paused here for a moment before adding, "The sun will rise soon, and I'm tired."

"Is there anything you need?"

"As a matter of fact, there is. Ignore the corniness of this sentiment, but I think I'd rest a lot easier with you in my arms. No more sneaking off and causing the first aneurysm in a vampire!"

Irene listened, wondering when Cyrus would be asleep. He may have a hold on Layla, but not her. She was determined to be free and not rely on the assistance of those who had taken her life away and handed her one worse than death. She would have been grateful for the second shot at life, if it hadn't been given as a gift for someone she loathed.

When Irene was sure Cyrus was asleep she quietly rose to her feet. She glanced behind her at the scene of Cyrus with an arm slung about Layla, who was turned toward him. She could not tell if Layla was asleep, but both of them were still. Holding her breath, she tiptoed towards the door. Each stair seemed to creak as though an elephant were scaling them. Once Irene was at the top of the stairs she glanced behind her again. No one was following.

Irene made her way around the house. She went into every room and sighed, remembering her life as it was. She was content with it despite the hardships. She was even proud of herself for holding it together. Her life was working. Many thought hers an empty and lonely life, but it was the life she had. This existence, she felt, was meaningless.

"Jordan… Merle… Father…" Irene muttered. She glanced at the front door. The sun would rise soon enough. She scowled at the white basement door, which led to eternal darkness. She was paralyzed in the middle of her decision.

Irene closed her eyes, imagining that she was outside. She conjured up an image of herself doing her routine jog before school. Was it even a school morning? Irene glanced at the calendar in agitation. She didn’t know the date or time. It didn't matter. Irene closed her eyes again. Outside she would soon meet up with Merle and head for tennis practice. Then she'd have another distracting and busy day of school, followed by a visit to Jordan. His hazel eyes would have adored her with stalwart brightness, rather than crave her with vacuous darkness. Afterwards she'd get home, and her father would just be arriving in a cab, tired from a long flight. They'd order in Chinese food and lounge in the living room together watching some sports. Then it'd be time to go to bed. The lights would go out. However, darkness never scared her, because she always knew it was temporary. It was a peaceful thing allowing her to rest and ready herself for a new day. Never again would darkness just be a passageway to a brand new day. Irene felt the tears rising in her eyes. Instead it was a labyrinth. Her decision was made.

The morning air greeted Irene with a freshness she had nearly forgotten. The pleasant sting and tickle embraced her body as she closed the door behind her. She walked down the few porch steps before her, clutching an old journal of hers. She continued down to the end of the driveway leading to her house and sat down on the dewy grass. She knew it must be very early, for there was a hint of winter in this estuary of languid seasons.

Irene sat down cross-legged and opened the journal. She flipped through the pages until she found her last entry, which was nearly half a year ago. Her journal was spattered with inconsistent reports. Never was she able to remain faithful to this small quiet friend, but it would be the only one she would say goodbye to. She began to write.

"Goodbye, dear Journal. Perhaps I'm being selfish. But lives are meant to be lived once, and I lived mine to the fullest that I knew how. It may have been short, and it may have been hard, but I did my best. It was the life that mattered to me, and I will not hide from the light. I have no regrets…."

Irene glanced up, seeing just the slightest hint of light on the horizon. There was a queer prickling feeling all over her, as if her body had gone to sleep. Yet sleep was the last thing on the agenda. Her legs grew restless and her heart pounded. Her mind kept pulsing the feeling of danger through her mind. And yet, she forced herself to remain calm and continued to write.

"…I will do what I have always done. I will buoy myself for another day in these last moments of dawn. My life has always been about preparing myself for another hard yet rewarding day, not scattering or hiding in fear. I see the light coming, and though this body wishes to run, I will not. Farewell."

Irene closed the book and set it aside as far as her arm's length. She then firmly put her hands in her lap and stared at the horizon. She felt the first flash of heat come over her. Her body screamed to find shelter, but Irene was determined to stay vigilant in doing what she realized she'd been doing since she met Cyrus; waiting for sunrise.

The End

...

No. This needn't be the end.

It burns! But I can endure. I won't shy from the pain. It needs to be this way.

No! What am I doing? There's no honour in this. This is all just spite. This death is petty!

No matter what, I can't win. If I die, it's because of him. If I live, it's because of him.

I'm better than this. I can forge my own destiny. Burn away the past and start anew.

The burning... I can't... I can barely move. I just need to reach the door. Help me...