Confessions of A Dead Girl - Ch 2

Dear Diary,

I woke up a brand new girl.

He left me in a dark, cold parking garage, covered in my blood and his; left me with no memory of what had happened, not knowing what I was. I could barely stand, but I pulled myself into my car and somehow, my shaking hands managed to get the keys into the ignition. Even with the fear and the massive chunks of my memory missing, instinct told me one thing: I could NOT go home. I couldn't stumble back into my parent's house, covered in nothing but a man's button-down and blood. I had to figure this out myself. I still had my wallet; I hadn't been robbed. I still had plenty of cash ... I squeezed my eyes closed and tried to think. Did I have more cash than I had last night? Was that even possible?

I pulled on the turn-pike and headed for New Jersey. I didn't know it then, Diary, but I was about to find my calling.


I slammed the door to the filthy, second-story motel room, and sank onto the floor. I hugged my knees to my chest, and .. Diary, it was like I was sobbing - but no tears fell from my eyes. I raced to the bathroom, frantic. What had I taken last night? Why did walking in the sun feel like my body had been stuck in a deep fryer? What kind of drug could possibly dry up the tears in my body? I didn't know that my body could no longer produce tears, because I didn't know that I was dead.

"I must be dehydrated!' Was what I finally thought to myself. I drank and drank and drank from the filthy faucet, not realizing how [i]thirsty[/i] I was until the first drop of cool, sweet water passed my lips. I drank until I thought I'd suffocate - or drown. When I finally stopped, it was as if the entire world stopped with me, just for a brief second.

I stared at myself in the mirror - and almost didn't recognize the girl I saw staring back at me. Sure, she resembled me ... but it was like I was staring into a stranger's eyes. My skin was different.. pale, almost translucent. My eyes were lighter, a bright blue ring surrounded by almost white - rather than the gray they'd been the morning before. 'Who was I? What had happened? What was I becoming?' I kept asking questions you never think you'll ever have to ask yourself.



And then it started.

I didn't know it then, but as the sun went down that evening, by body had transformed into something that no longer survived on air and food and water. I fell to the ground, my face pressed against the cold, dirty tile (Something the old Alivia would have never done) and for a moment, let myself relax. And that's when it hit me - the stench. I gagged instinctively before I realized that it wasn't exactly nauseating... in fact, I knew exactly what it was. Death. I guess that's the thing about Vampire DNA. Humans have survival instinct, sure... But in those first few days, I realized that we come with a LOT more ingrained knowledge pumping through our blood. There was death in the motel room below me, but I could tell you more than that... it was a recent death, no more than a few hours old.

This was where Alivia 1.0 would have flipped. She would have ran screaming into the night, called the cops, climbed in her pretty canopy bed at her mommy and daddy's house, snuggled in under her pink blanket... Maybe even busted out her old My Little Pony Night-light... she would have tried to convince herself that the past 24 hours were all just a bad dream. Woken up and eaten waffles and watched Tyra with her mom. But, that girl was dead, Diary. Nope. Little Alivia just didn't exist anymore... And this Alivia was curious.

It's still a little hard to explain why I did what I did, not knowing what I know now... but in that moment, I felt no fear. I moved on animal instinct, cat-like curiosity... only somehow without even knowing WHAT I was, I knew that this kitty would not fall victim to it's own curiosity. I stalked down the stairs, barely aware that my feet made no sound, barely aware of the speed I possessed. I crept to the door. Instinct running on overdrive, I pressed my ear against the almost rotting wood and peeling paint. I knew what I was listening for, the slow, rhythmic thu-thump, thu-thump I'd heard from the clerk at the check in desk. I heard nothing, only smelled the stench of not even day-old death. The door was locked, but I forced it open, barely surprised to hear the deadbolt snap. I still think Fate was leading me, diary. Showing me my calling. Running my body, while I was just along for the ride.

The smell got worse as I opened the door... he hadn't even tried to conceal her. There she was, blonde and pretty ... at least, I'm sure she was pretty before what he had done to her. Had I been human, bile would have rose in my throat. I might have been sick. But I was hot with anger. Rage filled me, diary. Warmed my blood like sweet sunshine on a hot summer day. Somehow my body knew what it was - knew that it liked blood, but not hers. Not THAT blood. The beast inside me, the beast that I now know is me, wanted her killer. For a moment I mourned for her... she was a kindred spirit, in a way. Both of us ripped from our lives against our will. I still wonder from time to time who got the raw end of the deal, but in that moment, I was more angry for her than for myself. And that base, vampire instinct showed me exactly what to do. He'd be back. And I'd be waiting.



I smelled him before I heard his footsteps on the sidewalk... Dirt and sweat and fear and blood. I can't even explain it, Diary... but that scent of tainted, evil blood... it was like smelling Grandma's fried chicken or fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies, only I never wanted to rip out the chicken's throat with my teeth.

I was at the door, yanking him in by his collar before he could even open his mouth to scream for help. I stared into his wide, frightened blue eyes, wondering briefly if this monster had ever been frightened before... the thought made me smile a smile I'd never worn before, never knew I was capable of. What sweet irony - this man who'd tortured and killed that poor, pretty little girl was to meet his death at the hands of another poor, pretty little dead girl.

"This is for her," I whispered sweetly as I sank my fangs into the sweaty flesh of his neck. He fought at first, jerking, trying to overpower me, but it was useless. He was no match for my strength... and he was no match for my wrath.



I'll admit, Diary. My first kill was a little sloppy - I mean, I just left him laying in the motel floor. I stepped over his dead, bloody body and headed back to my room for a shower before heading south to Boston. And Diary? I didn't feel one twinge of regret. The old Alivia is gone - and this Alivia? Alivia 2.0? I avenged her death - just like I'll avenge my own.