Unapologetic Apathy

Frank left and I started thinking again. Id gone soft. Started developing feelings for him. I felt a twitch in my heart when i remembered: he said he felt the same way. Well, I never said clearly ehat I thought, but I tol him I didn't feel like killing him. That's a start.

He said he didn't want to kill me. I didn't want to kill him. We weren't promised to each other, but we had mutual respect. I leaned my head back when a wave of exhaustion hit me. I groane and tried to get up a few minutes later, but my muscles refused. My hands, though I didn't how Frank, killed. But I didn't regret letting giving that monster what she deserved.

When I met her, she was caring, kind, and sweet. A bit eccentric and outgoing. I thought of her as a friend. When I thought I might be thinking romantically of her, when we were engaged, that's when I knew I had made a mistake. And I regretted it forever.

Frank was different. When I first met him, he was a rude, insolent boy who thought he was better than everyone else. He tried to kill me. He was desperate to find a way out of the deal. But soon another side of him showed. He was interested, and very curious. He was accepting his position. He wa the only one who came into the manor: I thougt of him as a friend, in a way. And after a while, he wasn't so annoyed at giving me the blood I needed.

I hated to admit I let out a short gasp of pain when I sat up. Every single muscle aches recently. Lyndsey had not only cut me with that silver knife, but also knocked me around quite badly. I would've won except that she had much more skill with what she called gifts. Blending into shadows. Increased strength. Then, when she knew Frank was going to arrive soon, she dragged me over and propped me up on the couch to wait for him. To make me turn him.

I wouldnt turn him. I would kill him before i did that. And I would never kill Frank. Nor would I allow him to even contemplate living as what I was, not that I worried he'd do so. He despised vampires. Why would he...care for one? How could he stand to be around me? How could...?

I lost my train of thought when I reached the staircase, groaning at each agonizing step I had to take. When I forgot e top, I found my bedroom. I could have found it with my eyes closed. I've been in this manor for roughly 200 years. I could walk through it backwards blindly.

My my room was the second largest bedroom in the house. The first was the master bedroom, which used to be Lindsey and I's when we were still engaged. I supposed if she were still alive, we would technically be engaged still. Maybe, if I had killed Frank and turned him to a freak like us, we would be able to live happily ever after in the manor agin, rich and happy. The thought made me almost vomit on the carpet.

I collapsed on the bed and fell asleep almost immediately.



The the next day, as promised, Frank came. He had his arm bandage up, and he was looking healthy as before. The house used to be dark when he came over, as I preferred it, but I'd started putting up candles so he could see better. I could see fine, though. and I could see his features glow gold from the flickering flame.

"Hello," I smiled. I was sitting on the couch, reading a book on reversing curses, a Latin edition I had learned to read while trapped in the manor for so long. I flipped through it absentmindedly. I had read it before, as well as most of the other books in the library that had interested me, but I was scared to pick up one of Frank's new, modern ones. I didn't think I was ready to read something so....colourful and differently. And one he gave me while laughing his head off, a book with a weird pair of hands holding an apple. I frowned in confusion and set it aside. I guessed it was some kind of joke I ha missed out on. He found it quite funny.

"Hello," he said back. This time, his messageR bag was replaced by a causal backpack. He unzipped and handed me my usual bag. I took it from him and set it aside. "umm, I came here to talk about something." He looked shy.

"Yes?" I asked. He bit his lip - oh my god - and continued.

"I wanted to talk about the last few nights. Unless you don't want to talk about it, which is okay. I'm just kind of worried about you after the Lindsey thing," he mumbled. "How are your hands?"

I hid them behind the heavy leather binding of te book. Maybe he wouldn't notice they were still so sore looking. I heal faster than most, but a burn like that would take days to recover from. I'd managed to wash off all the blood, but I still looked like a mess. My face was blackish purple in the cheek where I'd been slashed. It didn't swell up, but I looked like I was a porcelain doll with a crack on my cheek. A purple, angry crack. My neck, where she'd burnt me, was spotted with blade shaped burn marks. I managed to ignore them, but I ditched the neck tie today.

"I'm fine. Don't worry," I muttered and continued to read the book. Only, I wasn't really paying attention to the words. All my focus was on Frank standing in the foyer.

He he walked over to me and sat down beside me. "What are you reading?"

"A book," I said plainly. When he persisted I tell him, I answered fully. "A Latin book on curses."

"Curses?"

"Counter curses," I clarified.

"For...you?" He wondered.

"For me," I echoed. He looked concerned, and slightly confused. There was a long pause before he asked me to tell him everything that happened the last few days. I hesitated, but it technically was part of our deal. Without looking up at him, and his puppy dog eyes, I answered his question.

"I first got the letter she was coming a few days ago. Then I started to proof te house so she couldn't get in. It didn't work. Then she attacked me, and then her goal was to get me to turn you."

"Why?" He asked.

"Probably to get back at me. For 'wasting'," I sighed.

"She wanted you to turn more people into vampires," Frank stated. I nodded. "And she was mad because you didn't? Not even one?"

"Nobody wants to be like me, Frank, I could never do that to someone," I said barely audible.

"But you'd kill them?"

"That was for survival," I snapped, "I had no other choice. You don't know what it feels like to go hungry! For weeks sometimes, maybe months. I take what I need because I don't know when my next meal with be." I didn't relizr I had slammed te book down. It fell on its spine and opened on a random page, one I ha visited many times. The pages were smeared with blood from some rituals and a bit worn. Frank eyed it, but he couldn't understand the language. He just noticed the blood.

"Sorry I asked," he mumbled. He looked so tiny on the couch beside me, in a big hooded sweater and skinny jeans. A bit of black hair hubg in front of his hazel eyes. I bit my lip and pretends I wasn't staring.

"It's fine. I'm sorry I freaked out," I replied. "I'll put this book away." I sat up to leave, ignoring my creaking muscles. My clothes covered the bruises, but sometimes the sleeve of my dress shirt wasn't enough, and the sleeve slipped up. I didn't want Frank to see how beat up I actually was.

"I'll wait here," Frank said quietly. Did I hurt his feelings? I set the book down on my desk in the library and headed back out. Frank was standing up, fiddling with a candle holder on a side table. I approached him, and somehow I ended up standing beside him.

"I'm sorry you had to see Lindsey," I murmured. Why had I apologized? I never did that. This wasn't like me. Wait, this wasn't like Frank. He took a step towards me and suddenly I felt his warm lips on mine. I flinched back and widened my eyes. This was happening? Before I could lean into the kiss, he pulled away, concerned.

"I- aim sorry," he appiges.

"Don't be," I mused and leaned back in. I took his head my my hands gently and leaned to his height. He was short, so he was on his toes a bit. We just stood there, kissing, until I felt his hand slide up my dress shirt.

I deepened the kis, and it became rough, but I managed to keep him from cutting his lip on my teeth. He broke apart to take a breath, a breath I didn't need. He gave me a look, then pushed me by my shoulders. I stumbled back over the arm of the sofa and I landed on my back on the cushion.

"Oomph." Frank crawled on top of me slowly, and we were kissing again. It was heated , and surprising. Frank was...kissing me? I felt his hands slide up my shirt farther. I sighed into his mouth. I reached up and pulled him closer, and he worked in the buttons of my shirt, fumbling with them. It probably was hard to concentrate on little things like buttons when I was kissing and mumbling on his jawline and neck. He gasped.

Myshirt was off, but he was still trying my undershirt. "How many fucking layers do you have?" He said in a gasp. I pulled his shirt over his head.

Notes

Gtg part two will follow