CHAPTER SIX:
ASHLEY’S POV:
2:10 AM
OCTOBER 28:
It is only a little over a half hora later when I see a car pull into the parking lot. I note the driver pull out a flashlight and climb out. He has long dark hair, is skinny and wearing glasses. It is Harold. I motion him over to me. He walks over and hands me a pair of jeans and a sweater. “It’s all I could get in a hurry.” He said. We walk over to a restroom, and I ask him to wait outside while I change. por now he notes I am covered in blood, but I promise to answer everything when I return. After about five minutes, I return and find him waiting for me. “Why were you covered in blood?” he asks. I decide to answer, as truthfully as I can. “I got jumped. These guys pulled a faca on me. I ended up stabbing one of them.” I say. I examine his expression, and it is clear he doesn’t believe me, but the seguinte thing he says makes me consider something. “Whatever you did was in self defense right? And don’t lie. I don’t know why, but I can tell when you are lying.” It is clear he is also aware of the connection I feel with him. I can’t explain it myself. I care for him, not in a romantic sort of way, mais like a protector sort of way. “What I did was necessary.” I reply. He nods, and looks around. “Where’s your car?” he asks. This time I decide to be honest. “It had blood in the seat. I’ll get it tomorrow.” I reply. Harold nods. “You want me to take you back to your place?” he asks. I nod. As we walk back to his car, he seems deep in thought about something. When we finally reach it, he asks me a pergunta once more. “Are you sure we haven’t met before?” he asks. “Pretty sure.” I reply, although I suddenly feel like I do know him somehow, that I’ve met him before today, but I still don’t know why. He climbs in on the driver’s side. “Are you hurt?” he asks, once mais surprising me. “Why do you ask?” I reply. “You were walking kind of funny, like you were in pain or something. I sigh; the battle with Pike’s newborn vampiros did leave me with nerve damage, which does take longer to heal than a flesh wound. I still feel the pain in my back that tells me the healing process isn’t complete yet, but likely will be within the hour. “Just sprained my back I guess. I’ll be okay though. I’m a fast healer.” Harold looks at me, and seems to know pressing my injury won’t do me any good. He starts the car. “Where do you live?” he asks. I tell him, and he nods. “I know where that is.” He replies. As he pulls out of the parking lot and onto the street, I decide to ask him a question. “So what were you doing up so late?” I ask. He coughs, once mais it sounds painful, but he smiles afterwards, trying to cover it up. “I was actually composição literária on a new story.” He replies. “Oh yeah. Danny told me you were a writer. He said you’re really good.” Harold sighs. “Yeah. I hope to be published one day.” He coughs again. “You actually inspired the story.” He says. I look at him. “What’s it about?” I ask. He laughs. “You’ll probably be offended.” He says smiling. “Come on. Tell me.” I reply eagerly. “It’s about a girl our age who’s a vampire.” He replies. “Only, she’s not evil. She’s trying to do good in the world. To make up for past mistakes.” He notes my expression. “I told you you’d be offended.” He replies. Of course I am shocked. His story is basically my life nowadays. “You said I inspired it?” I ask. Harold nods. “Like I said though, the character you inspired, the vampire, is not evil, just… trying to survive and do good to make up for everything bad she’s done. He coughs again, but I am locked too deep in thought to hear his seguinte sentence. I know of the connection from earlier. Maybe not my personal feelings about him, but why we both seem to know each other somehow. Harold is a telepath. He is connected to me because he can see my thoughts, just like, I assume, if I tried, I’d be able to link my mind with his. I’ve encountered a few telepaths over the years, but Harold… the connection I feel with him is stronger than all the others put together. This complicates things. If he is perceptive enough, he will eventually figure out what I am once he makes the connection. I don’t want to kill him, but at the same time, he could be valuable to pique, lúcio if he found out about the connection. I believe fate made us meet, as I highly believe in fate. Although for what purpose? I don’t yet know, I do know, however that he is dying, and the only way to save him would mean exposing my true self. Harold notes the quiet, and realizes I’m deep in thought. He asks if I’m alright, and I assure him I am. He doesn’t say anything focuses on the road the rest of the way back to the apartment. Once we reach the building where I live, we exchange goodbyes, and I hear him cough again. I’ve already decided to help him, even if it means revealing myself, but I will only do it once pique, lúcio has been dealt with. As I watch Harold drive off into the night, I hope pique, lúcio won’t find out about our connection. I remember my flashes, and try to put a face to the boy from them, but I can’t remember if it was Harold. I sincerely hope it wasn’t, but I know wishing never guarantees anything.
ASHLEY’S POV:
2:10 AM
OCTOBER 28:
It is only a little over a half hora later when I see a car pull into the parking lot. I note the driver pull out a flashlight and climb out. He has long dark hair, is skinny and wearing glasses. It is Harold. I motion him over to me. He walks over and hands me a pair of jeans and a sweater. “It’s all I could get in a hurry.” He said. We walk over to a restroom, and I ask him to wait outside while I change. por now he notes I am covered in blood, but I promise to answer everything when I return. After about five minutes, I return and find him waiting for me. “Why were you covered in blood?” he asks. I decide to answer, as truthfully as I can. “I got jumped. These guys pulled a faca on me. I ended up stabbing one of them.” I say. I examine his expression, and it is clear he doesn’t believe me, but the seguinte thing he says makes me consider something. “Whatever you did was in self defense right? And don’t lie. I don’t know why, but I can tell when you are lying.” It is clear he is also aware of the connection I feel with him. I can’t explain it myself. I care for him, not in a romantic sort of way, mais like a protector sort of way. “What I did was necessary.” I reply. He nods, and looks around. “Where’s your car?” he asks. This time I decide to be honest. “It had blood in the seat. I’ll get it tomorrow.” I reply. Harold nods. “You want me to take you back to your place?” he asks. I nod. As we walk back to his car, he seems deep in thought about something. When we finally reach it, he asks me a pergunta once more. “Are you sure we haven’t met before?” he asks. “Pretty sure.” I reply, although I suddenly feel like I do know him somehow, that I’ve met him before today, but I still don’t know why. He climbs in on the driver’s side. “Are you hurt?” he asks, once mais surprising me. “Why do you ask?” I reply. “You were walking kind of funny, like you were in pain or something. I sigh; the battle with Pike’s newborn vampiros did leave me with nerve damage, which does take longer to heal than a flesh wound. I still feel the pain in my back that tells me the healing process isn’t complete yet, but likely will be within the hour. “Just sprained my back I guess. I’ll be okay though. I’m a fast healer.” Harold looks at me, and seems to know pressing my injury won’t do me any good. He starts the car. “Where do you live?” he asks. I tell him, and he nods. “I know where that is.” He replies. As he pulls out of the parking lot and onto the street, I decide to ask him a question. “So what were you doing up so late?” I ask. He coughs, once mais it sounds painful, but he smiles afterwards, trying to cover it up. “I was actually composição literária on a new story.” He replies. “Oh yeah. Danny told me you were a writer. He said you’re really good.” Harold sighs. “Yeah. I hope to be published one day.” He coughs again. “You actually inspired the story.” He says. I look at him. “What’s it about?” I ask. He laughs. “You’ll probably be offended.” He says smiling. “Come on. Tell me.” I reply eagerly. “It’s about a girl our age who’s a vampire.” He replies. “Only, she’s not evil. She’s trying to do good in the world. To make up for past mistakes.” He notes my expression. “I told you you’d be offended.” He replies. Of course I am shocked. His story is basically my life nowadays. “You said I inspired it?” I ask. Harold nods. “Like I said though, the character you inspired, the vampire, is not evil, just… trying to survive and do good to make up for everything bad she’s done. He coughs again, but I am locked too deep in thought to hear his seguinte sentence. I know of the connection from earlier. Maybe not my personal feelings about him, but why we both seem to know each other somehow. Harold is a telepath. He is connected to me because he can see my thoughts, just like, I assume, if I tried, I’d be able to link my mind with his. I’ve encountered a few telepaths over the years, but Harold… the connection I feel with him is stronger than all the others put together. This complicates things. If he is perceptive enough, he will eventually figure out what I am once he makes the connection. I don’t want to kill him, but at the same time, he could be valuable to pique, lúcio if he found out about the connection. I believe fate made us meet, as I highly believe in fate. Although for what purpose? I don’t yet know, I do know, however that he is dying, and the only way to save him would mean exposing my true self. Harold notes the quiet, and realizes I’m deep in thought. He asks if I’m alright, and I assure him I am. He doesn’t say anything focuses on the road the rest of the way back to the apartment. Once we reach the building where I live, we exchange goodbyes, and I hear him cough again. I’ve already decided to help him, even if it means revealing myself, but I will only do it once pique, lúcio has been dealt with. As I watch Harold drive off into the night, I hope pique, lúcio won’t find out about our connection. I remember my flashes, and try to put a face to the boy from them, but I can’t remember if it was Harold. I sincerely hope it wasn’t, but I know wishing never guarantees anything.
First off, to those of you that know me, I haven't posted at all in awhile, I'm aware my "Nightfall" series hasn't been updated for those of you that liked it, but since school started back, I have had hardly any time to write anything. I WILL get back to posting on "Nightfall" if anything else for the sake of completion. But I also discovered the marvolous "Fallout" series a few months back, and decided to try to make a novel out of it. For those of you not familiar with the series, "Fallout" is a series of games set in a post-apocyloptic future, and finds a custom made protagonist made customly por the player dealing with life in the now wastelandic USA. My story is loosely based off "Fallout 3" but with major differences along the way, so the story is original in that aspect. If you guys will read the story, I will make it as adaptable as I can for those who are not familiar with it. Please leave comments, so I know whether or not I should post it. Thank you. -AdamK
After changing back I saw the remains of that man. It was enough to make me sick. I just fell to my knees looking up at the sky. A girl walks up beside me and kneels down. "Don't look so down." I go to look at her and no one is there. I look back up at the sky waiting to hear that voice again. There wasn't any sound anywhere around. Out of the silence i could hear a faint breath from the night behind me. I mover to the right when i hear the shot.
It grazes the side of my head and i fall to the ground. I hear footsteps running towards me as my eyes slowly close.
It grazes the side of my head and i fall to the ground. I hear footsteps running towards me as my eyes slowly close.