No One Has to Know

The young girl sat and stared at the blank document on her computer screen. She felt tired and unstable as her fingers ghosted over the keys. She took a deep breath before her fingers began to dance across them.


Some days I hate myself and I get sad, unbearably sad. And the emotion always hits me and surprises me into submission. I never know how I’m going to react to the tidal wave, but I know I won’t be calling or asking anyone to comfort me. Because after a while, reaching out to people and being ignored starts to hurt. I already know I’m not worth the time, I do not to be reminded of it. And then, that thought brings on another thought. One that has constantly been at the back of my mind since I can remember: I will never be anyone’s first choice, not now, not ever.

It is a sad thing to think about, that someone will always be better than you and that they will always be chosen over you. It’s sad, but it’s reality. And when reality starts to chip away at the happy illusions that I’ve created for myself, I become this bundle of nerves that can’t seem to calm down and relax. I begin to feel like I’m going to throw up, faint, and die all at once. I begin to feel like life is tightly gripping my throat with rough and bony hands that leave unseen scars on my flesh.

So I hide away in my bed. I burrow deep beneath the covers and I don’t leave. Even if I begin to feel lightheaded and too warm. I curl up on my side and close my eyes and hope that when I open them, I will be normal. That I won’t be so neurotic and so pessimistic. I will do this for the majority of the day until it hits me that I will always be a weird, neurotic, pessimistic, and pathetic piece of shit. People don’t notice those things about me because I hide myself in pretty clothes and pretty makeup. I doll myself up into a glorified waste of space.

I even fool people into believing that I’m a happy and normal person. People seem to believe that I’m this cheerful and sweet person. But I’m not. I’m cold, peculiar, pessimistic, rude, and dumb. That isn’t to say that I’m not ever happy. Because I can be.

Today is just not a day for smiles and laughter. At least, not for me.

She opened a web page and couldn’t decide if this was something that she should post into her blog. She had many friends who followed her blog and she wasn’t sure if she could deal with the influx of guilt-induced texts and messages that she would surely receive upon posting the entry. As she closed her eyes, she decided that she wouldn’t post it.

“If someone cares enough, they will contact me on their own. They won’t need any initiative. If someone wants to see me, they will come to me on their own accord,” she murmured resolutely to herself as she closed the web page and deleted her journal entry.

No one had to know that she felt alone and unneeded. The young girl brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, pulling them tight against her. She felt the hot sting of tears as they left her eyes and slipped down her cheeks.

No one had to know.


Wild Thing

The sun rose slowly over the treeline, the sky a painting of reds, blues, and yellows. She stared up at the sight through her fingers taking care to remember that it’s not a very smart idea to stare right at the sun, no matter how enticing it was. It could burn her from the inside out. She stretched her hand out, the webbing between her fingers blurring her view of the sun peeking out over them. She blinked, the air hurting her eyes. Her eyes still closed, she let her hand down and gazed quickly at the sight. 

She turned and retreated back into the water the second she felt the heat begin to well up inside of her. She swam to a safe depth and turned back to glance at the surface. The sky didn’t look too terrible from underwater, but she knew better. She gazed absentmindedly at the pile of moss-covered skeletons covering the lake floor. She closed her eyes and swam back to the entrance to the underwater tunnel that led to the sea. She couldn’t bear to stay in that place any longer than she needed to. 

She could see the pitch black hole a few yards in front of her, she swam languidly relishing in the quiet of the lake. She had begun to swim towards the exit on her back, her eyes closed. If it weren’t for the fact that she was underwater and wasn’t mortal, she’d look like a relaxed mortal woman. That is, until she felt the violent stab of a harpoon through her tail fin. She screamed, her beautiful face suddenly marred by a jagged line of sharp teeth, her black eyes glaring at the shadow of a boat on the lake surface. She ignored how much of her luminescent blood surrounded her and braced herself for the task at hand.

She ignored the pain enveloping her and gripped the harpoon in her hand and pulled hard. She watched in horror and anger as the tip pulled out a piece of her flesh. She tugged hard on the harpoon knowing that at the end of the rope connected to the harpoon, she’d have her shooter, the hunter. It didn’t give way and neither would she. She tugged even harder and smiled at the body falling into lake.

She didn’t take a second before swimming right at the body and pulling the rope and harpoon gun from him. She turned quickly and grabbed the body by it’s neck and looked at the idiot mortal who thought it smart to hunt her and was surprised to meet not the anger she expected but confused and then wonder. 

She let her hand slip gently from his neck to rest awkwardly between them.

He looked at her, his eyes wide and his cheeks puffed out as he struggled to stay at her level. He was no Prince Charming, but she couldn’t help but like him. She blinked at him as he smiled. He pointed up and she nodded. She followed him as the both swam up to the surface. She kept the bottom half of her face submerged so that only the top of her head and her big, shiny, black eyes were seen. 

He took a gulp of hair and pushed wet locks of black hair out of his face and stared at her. He opened his mouth then and began talking. She had no idea how to tell him that her kind did not understand the language of the mortals. It had been so long since they had travelled to the surface that the language was now lost on her generation. He continued to talk on, gesturing to her, to his boat, to the lake, and then again to her. He then looked downcast, as if he was apologizing. Hoping she was right, she nodded. 

He said nothing more so she looked at him in goodbye before turning away when she heard the sounds again. She turned back to him. He was back in his boat and had something in his hands. He gestured for her to come towards him. She narrowed her eyes at him, but came to his boat. She pushed herself up on her elbows, so that half her body was submerged now. He stared at her for a moment before showing her what was in his hands. 

The sun was high in the sky now and it shined brightly on the necklace he held. The small lavender jewel glimmered beautifully in the sunlight. She looked at him as he held up the necklace in an awkward gesture. It took a few minutes for her to understand that he wanted to put it on her. 

She let him.

She turned her back to him and held her long forest green hair up as he slipped the small jewel around her neck and fastened the clasp. She let her hair down and turned back to face him, her hands finding their way to his face. She touched him gently as he bowed his head to her. She let him go. She slowly backed away from the mortal and his boat, the jewel shining proudly on her chest. 

He blinked and she was gone.


She stared at her door, her heart racing despite how still she sat on her bed. She could do this. She had to if she wanted to be happy. If she wanted to live. Making the decision, she got up, grabbed her backpack and messenger bag, and walked out the room. She saw the dull blue light of the television fill the living room and the hallway she was in. She walked slowly, careful not to make a sound. She could hear them. Their soft snores and the quiet chatter of some late night show. She quietly entered the living room and looked at her sleeping parents. Her father with his arm around her mother’s shoulders, their faces so much younger looking, the worry of the day slipping away as they slept. Looking at them, she thought that she could love them and that they could love her.

She knew better now. They couldn’t love her and she certainly couldn’t love them. She took a silent breath and walked out of the living room and into the front hall, her ears carefully trained on any sound from the living room. She walked right up to the front door and internally cheered as she turned the handle.

“And where do you think you’re going this late at night?” she froze as the cold steel of her father’s voice sliced through her relief, “Turn around Izzy and explain yourself.” despite herself, Izzy turned around, her face hot with anger and embarrassment.

“I’m leaving.” she said, looking directly into her father’s glare, open rebellion and hate present in her brown eyes.

“Ha, no you’re not.” Izzy’s stare caught her mother as she came into view, “Now close that door and get back to bed.” Her voice was covered in sugar but the threat was there and Izzy noted it.

“NO,” Izzy replied, clenching the hem of her jacket, “I am leaving and there’s nothing you can do.” she said resolutely. She began to back walk out the door when her father pulled a small handgun from behind him.

“Please, Isabell, just go to your room. We don’t want to hurt you.” her father pointed the gun at her head and clicked the bullet into place, “Please.”

“You can’t shoot me,” Izzy stared her parents down, “I know better. I know what I am and I know you can’t hurt me!” she shouted before sprinting out of the house. She ran to her car and unlocked it, thankful that the boy who she had met a few weeks ago helped her debug the whole car so they couldn’t trace her. She got in and started the car, pulling away just as her parents came out of the house, guns held in front of them. She saw them in her rear view mirror, staring after her as she drove off. Izzy knew that they still could have shot her from that distance, she wondered vaguely why they didn’t.


The young boy looked out his window at her. She was everything he wanted. Her luminescent pale skin, her rosy pink lips, her dark hair, and her eyes. Oh he loved her eyes. He loved how they shine and seemed to change from green to brown to grey in a matter of seconds. It was almost like he knew her.

No, he did know her.

She was always there at his window, just waiting for him to watch her. He tore his gaze away from her pale face and walked to his bedroom door. He tried the handle again. It was still locked. He had been locked in there for weeks, his mother and father bringing him nothing but take-out and fast food. He was grateful that they had at least thought to renovate his bedroom before and add on a bathroom. 

His brow knit in frustration as he kicked at the door, Mom! Dad! Please! Let me out! His calls went unanswered. He kicked at the door a final time, before turning his back and slumping against it. He put his head in his hands, unsure of what he had done to deserve this. He looked up and out his window. He smiled. He could still see her somewhat, although, her curtain had fallen in view.

He made up his mind. 

He got up and walked to his window, grabbing his jacket. He braced himself, before jumping out the window and landing painfully on his stomach on a tree branch. He pulled himself up and climbed down the tree, careful not to make any sounds.

He looked up at her window, she was there looking at him now. He smiled and she smiled back, beckoning him over. He had her now. He knew he did. 

He walked over and began to climb the tree outside of her window, his pulse racing with the anticipation of having her at last. 

Hey you. she spoke softly, her eyes lighting up as he came into her room. He smiled and walked over to her, his hands lightly touching her wrists, her pulse racing almost as quickly as his. 

She opened her mouth to say something before he covered her mouth with his hand and gripped her throat tightly with the other. He pushed her down onto her purple bed and squeezed harder, she was struggling too much for his liking. He didn’t want to bruise her more than he had to. Her thin hands clawed desperately at his, trying to pull his hands off of her. He smiled down at her Ssssh. It’s almost over. He waited a few more minutes, almost bored, for her to stop. And soon, she went limp, the life completely gone from her petite body.

He got up and went to her desk, opening drawers and rustling around before finding an incredibly sharp pair of scissors. He broke them, one sharp blade in each hand before turning around and walking back to the bed.

I have you now.


She thought she must have been insane to believe that he loved her. How could he love her? She was insufferable, ugly, rude, sarcastic, and annoying. No one could love her but her parents and even then that was a huge gamble. 

She thought he loved her, all of her and her crazy. She was wrong. He did not love her. He loved the idea of her that he had in his mind. When she couldn’t fulfill that idea he had, he threw her away. She knew it would happen, so she had tried desperately to fit into the idea of her that he had. She tried so hard but she couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t do it anymore.

He broke her.

She had been so sure that no one would love her and then he came along and lifted her heart from the depths of her body. Then he suddenly ripped her heart from her chest and took it, never to give it back again. She had cried for days, everyone telling her that she would find another, that it would be better.

None of that helped. Sure, it would get better, but that’s in the future. She was here in the present and right now, she wanted it to stop. So she did just that. She wrapped her crazy and her secrets up inside of her and covered herself in armour so that she would never again be broken. 

She had been mad to believe he loved her. Now he’s going mad knowing that she’s fine.

Tremble (Late post April 27th, 2013)

Sometimes when reality got to be too much for her, she’d close her eyes to the shaking world, to the terrifying truth of her responsibilities. She’d take a few deep breaths and imagine that she was a little girl again, that her mom and dad were there to help her, that she wasn’t alone in the world. 

When she felt that the world stopped shaking, stop trembling, she’d open her eyes. Reality wasn’t as colourful or as pleasant as her imagination and that hurt her. It served to remind her that she WAS alone and that her mom and dad weren’t there to help her. Then she’d throw herself into her schoolwork and into her part-time jobs to forget all of that. 

It wasn’t until late at night in bed, just before she fell asleep that she remembered these things. She was alone in this world and nothing would change that.

Summer (Late post April 25th, 2013)

She pulled at her blouse, the fabric sticking to her skin. She grimaced and sat up from the couch and pulled off the sweaty fabric, thankful that no one was home to see her in her bra and short shorts. She walked over to the AC panel and switched it on, not caring that her parents wouldn’t be very happy with her for wasting money on staying cool. 

The girl smiled when she felt the cold gust of air hit the top of her head from the vents. She sat back down on the couch and lounged, waiting for her sticky, slick skin to dry from the cold. She hated summer and everything that it is. 

It was always too hot and too humid. At least during the winter, if she got too cold, she only had to layer up on her clothes. On top of that, autumn had all the best cuddling weather. During the summer, if it got too hot, you had to shed clothes and who’d want to cuddle in the heat? No one. Everyone’s skin gets too sweaty and sticky and no one wants to touch eachother because they’d be sticking to eachother. Autumn was definitely better.

She frowned at the thought of how much longer she’d have to suffer this California heat. She glanced out at the empty pool, angry that her parents were too careless and forgot to have the pool filled for the summer. She’d have to wait until next month for them to be  back and for the pool to finally be filled.

She closed her eyes and leaned back against the couch, the cool air beckoning her to sleep.

She sighed and hoped that when she woke up, it’d be cold and dreary instead of bright and hot. 


She looked at each of the pictures, her heart racing as she came to a conclusion: This man was immortal. 

The more she researched and dug up about him, the more it became apparent that he was no mere man. The oldest recorded mention of him that she found was an old portrait from the early fifteenth century. He couldn’t be a vampire…could he? she thought as she shuffled the papers and and rearranged them by time. He’s not a vampire, at least not the traditional kind… she leaned back in her chair and took her glasses off, rubbing her temples, a headache on the brink of starting. 

What is he?

She had known him since they were in college and then later in university. She had never looked at him and thought that he hadn’t aged. She always assumed he just had amazing genes. She grabbed one of the papers from a pile of papers she had yet to read and perused it, her eyes widening as she read it. According to this, if it was all true, his parents disappeared when he was just a boy. Since then, he had been known to live with just his servants in a big house back in Romania. 

“What are you Brandon.” she mumbled to herself as she continued to read. He was twenty-seven years old, a young single bachelor when he supposedly died. It said that no body was found and that there had been rumors surrounding his parent’s disappearance. She glanced at one of the pictures she had found, in it he was twenty six, a year before he “died”.

She had to admit that he was handsome and charming. He looked every part the aristocrat, every part the gentleman. In the fading picture, she looked closer and standing off to the right was an inhumanly beautiful man. She couldn’t see him as well as Brandon, but she could see that he was beautiful. Something irked her about him however and pushed her to look more closely at all the pictures she had. 

Oh my god.

This man was in every picture and portrait of Brandon. He was always off to the side, slightly out of focus, dressed in the time’s style. Who was he? What does he have to do with Brandon’s immortality? she asked herself as she began to collect her papers and books. She had to see Brandon and talk to him.

She had to know. As she got up from the desk, she heard the silent room door close.

“Hello?” she called out, turning around to face the door, “Is anyone there?”

No one answered and she heard nothing. She turned away and continued to pack her things. She felt it then, the sense that someone was standing right behind her, breathing on her neck. She smelled it too. The smell of dying flowers and soil. It both calmed and alarmed her. She turned around quick, facing the beautiful man from the pictures.

“I see you’ve gotten quite close to our little secret.” she didn’t have time to scream before the man knocked her unconscious, her vision going black.

Order (Late post April 22nd, 2013)

She gripped the gun in both her hands, the cold weight sending chills down her body. She stared down at the older man on the ground clutching his midsection. He had been the one to shoot down her family. 

“Do you know how I survived?” she spat down at him, kicking him with her foot, “Do you?!” 

The man looked up at her, confusion clouding his violet eyes. He shook his head, scooting away and backing up against the hard brick wall.

“You didn’t check to see if I was alive. My mother and my older sister covered me with their bodies.” the girl stood before him, the gun pointed down at him, her black eyes rimmed with the red of tears, “You killed them!”

The man suddenly remembered who she was, “Ah, you must have been one of the tribe, am I correct?” the girl nodded, her brow furrowing, “Yes, I remember you now. You and your family were on the ‘DISPOSE’ list…I didn’t want to you know.”

“Oh I’m sure. Why would a Hunter not want to dispose of us Wires? Because that makes sense.” the girl replied bitterly, cocking the gun, “Now, any last words?”

“Wait, please! I was just following orders!” he begged, getting on his knees. He bowed his head, the gun’s pointed right at his head. 

“Okay, I forgive you.” she whispered. The man looked up, a smile gracing his handsome features, “Just kidding.” 

She shot him between the eyes before he could scream.

Prepared (late post April 18th, 2013)

She was always told not to do this, to wait until marriage. If her mother knew she was doing this, she’d be disowned, humiliated, and hated. Her mother would hate her and her father wouldn’t be able to look her in the eyes. She ignored the bitter sting of tears and looked up at the nurse, nodding.

The nurse wrote some things down and got up, walking across the room to a set of drawers. Pulling a drawer out, she pulled out a twenty or so condoms, two pink cases, and little pink bags.  She got out a small brown paper bag and placed them in it.

She handed the bag to the girl, Are you sure you don’t need anything else? she nodded again, murmuring Thank you. before getting up. The nurse stopped her and gave her a card Feel free to call me if you need anything okay? I’ve seen girls like you who have no support come through here. The girl took the card and left.

She needed to be prepared. Even if her parents will hate her, she needed to be prepared.