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End of Part 182:

Jemima’s POV:

I pulled away from the body when I’d drained it. My thirst was cured enough for me to think. I looked down at the dead body beneath me. Her skin was pale white; her brown eyes were wide and staring. She was looking right at me. The last emotion she’d felt had been fear; terror. And betrayal, probably. I’d killed her and she’d been my best friend.

I wiped my hand across my mouth and stared at the blood on it. Her blood. Mary’s blood. The blood of the girl I’d been best friends with since the first day of high school.

What have I done? What have I done?

“Jemima.”

I felt Ivan’s hand on my shoulder, heard him kneeling beside me.

“Jemima,” he whispered again. “Jemima, we must go. Before we are both caught.”

I leant against his shoulder, feeling numb.

“Jemima, you don’t belong here anymore. Come on. Come with me.”

I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t hate him for making me leave my friend. He was right, after all. I didn’t belong here anymore; I wasn’t part of this world any longer. So I let Ivan lead me by the hand out of the flat. He held me as jumped out of the window and ran. I had no idea where we were heading; I just lay there, in his arms, knowing that I would get over this one day. I couldn’t see how, or when, but I knew I would.
…………

Part 183:

Jemima’s POV:

I closed my eyes, wishing the memories would go away. Not just the memory of what I just did, but the memories of my life; the memories of Mary and all the things we did. I remembered how we used to skive of swimming every week at school go and hide out in the park. It was such a rush every single time. We’d sneak back to my street, wait over the road from my house until my parents went out to work and then dash into the house and hide in the attic for the rest of the day. If anyone saw us, they never told our parents or the school.

Another memory flashed through my mind: Mary and I, in a shop which we couldn’t afford to buy anything from, accidentally knocking over a display of expensive shoes.

I closed my eyes tighter, focusing on the blackness their. There were colours in the dark, blue and violet and green, tiny veins dancing across the inside of my eyelids. I concentrated on them; they gave me hope that somewhere, in this dark time in my life, there was life. Life, colour, light.

Suddenly, I felt ground beneath my bare feet. The tiny rocks in the pavement should have felt sharp, but they felt like grass against my soles. I glanced up at Ivan. He was marching off up a hill, along the old cobbled street. The council hadn’t found the money to tarmac it yet, so it remained the same as it had always been.

“Ivan?” I called after him, jogging to catch up.

Where was he going? His shoulders were squared, his fists clenched. I reached out and touched his arm; the already tense, hard muscle tensed even more.

“You have unfinished business,” he growled.

I flinched back from his harsh tone. “W-what unfinished business?” I asked.

“The human! The one who saw you and got away!” he hissed, somehow managing to be quiet and yet yell at the same time.

“Oh, I know, but-“

“Never allow a witness to escape!” he snarled, cutting me off. “That’s one thing you have to learn in this life: clean up after yourself, or you could get us both killed!”

He barked the last two words in my face.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, feeling crap for letting myself be dominated. My eyes were on my feet; I was scared to look at his face. I didn’t want him to be angry with me. I didn’t want him to hate me. I felt something for him that I’d never felt properly before. I’d felt a shadow of it at high school, when I’d dated boys. I’d never felt it like this before. I felt like a teenager again, every emotion so intense.

“Good,” he said, his voice softer now. “He’s down that alley; go and deal with it.”
He pointed towards an alleyway to his right. I sneaked towards it, sticking to the darkness.

When I saw Steve, I almost felt pity. He was crouched in the shadow of a dustbin, his knees pulled up under his chin. He held his arms around them and he was whimpering, tears creeping down his cheeks. I almost wanted to let him go free, but I couldn’t. Not if Ivan’s life was at stake. Not Ivan.

“Steve,” I whispered.

He looked up, his eye wide.

“Who’s there?” he gasped. His voice was quiet and raspy from fear and tears.

“It’s me. I’ve come to save you,” I murmured, walking towards him.

“You,” he rasped, “you killed Mary. It was you.”

I smiled. “Such is my life.”

I stepped closer to him, kneeling down on the ground. It was wet from rain; tiny puddles were clustered between the cobbles, soaking through my jeans. I didn’t feel the cold of it. I reached out and took Steve’s hand; even though he must have been freezing, it felt warm. The pulse beat against my palm, racing with fear. It smelt good.

“Thank you, by the way,” I told him. “Thank you for arguing me out of the flat. You lead me to my life.”

And then, before he could take another breath, I snapped his neck, killing him. Then I drank him dry, his blood flowing down my throat like warm wine. I felt a hand on my shoulder; it was like an electric current, zapping through my veins. I looked up at Ivan, the carcass falling from my hands.

“Well done,” he said, pulling up so I was standing with him. He was a head taller than me; he had to bend down to lick the fresh blood from around my mouth. I wound my arms around his neck, pulling myself up higher as he kissed me. He pulled my legs around his waist as my fingers played with his short black hair.

I kissed like I’d never kissed before. My first ever kiss hadn’t shown any signs that this sort of thing was possible; it had been wet, awkward and a disappointment. This, however, was none of those three things. This was new and exciting and intoxicating. This made my breathing race though I didn’t need to breathe; this was like nothing in the world.

I’d gone from a low, to the ultimate high. Such is my life.