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It was a cold winter’s night when he found me half dead in that ally of bums. I was laying down next to a dog named Jules owned by a guy called Scruffy. Jules had a heavy blanket over her, had food in her stomach, while I had only the thin cloths on my back and a stomach that hadn’t had food in days. Scruffy had told me he was my papa, that my mom was a whore he’d done one night and then nine months later she stuck him with me. I was a good gimmick, he said, he got more money with me in his arms most of the time, but the dog was still worth more than I was.
So there I was, on the brink of death by frostbite and hunger, with Scruffy and his buddies huddled next to a fire passing around a bottle of scotch. Its funny how much you can see when you’re at death’s door, about ready to ring the doorbell. I still remember everyone, how their greasy faces lit the night brighter than the fire, how the bottle always seemed to leave the drinkers’ mouths with a sliver of saliva before being passed on, how some people had on old, grungy clothing while others had new used cloths they got from the churches or shelters, how the fleas on Jules were quiet and content in the winter while she was asleep. And there I was, at the side of it all, looking at this world, the only one I’d known and saying goodbye, because I knew that once I fell asleep I’d never see it again. And then he came, this man in his fancy coat, crisp and clean and newer than anything I had ever seen. Scruffy and his friends stopped talking, stopped drinking, and looked at the newcomer warily, waiting to see whether he was someone giving out free stuff or some nut job looking for a holiday victim out of the bums. He was just within reach of the fire’s light, just enough to show he didn’t have anything noticeable on him but not enough to give a clear definition to him. He looked around, you could tell he looked around by the swish in his hair, and then looked into the fire. He went up to the ring of bums without so much as a cringe or scowl on his face. He was calm, collected, composed, as though he always walked around in the middle of the night and chatted up the poor desolates of the street on cold near-Christmas nights. I noticed his eyes the most, how they were such a pretty, pretty hazel-green, like a jewel covered in sand. He went right to business, and his voice was so smooth, like hot chocolate after the marshmallows have melted and the liquid has cooled to a tolerable level (a nice lady in a big puffy jacket gave it to me once and I got a sip before Scruffy and Jules got the rest.)
“Who’s girl is that?” He asked the circle of bums. They all looked around ‘till their heads reached me and Jules.
“Dog’s not for sale,” Scruffy said. He was often offered a pretty penny from passersby, seeing the pure Siberian husky as a waste on a homeless person, but Scruffy always refused, saying that the dog was what brought him money.
The man’s eyebrows furrowed a bit, just for a second, before he said, “Not the dog, the girl.” The circle looked around again, this time noticing that I was laying down next to Jules.
“Whadya want a girl for?” One of the female bums said in a disgusted tone. “You could always buy yourself a pretty woman for whatever the ******** you want.”
“My business is my business. How much for the girl?”
Scruffy looked into the fire, took a swig from the bottle, then started talking his talk. “Who say’s the girl’s for sale? That kid’s the apple of my eye. My sweet darlin’, who’s mama left us out in the cold. I been raisin’ the tyke since before she could cry. What kind of a person would sell the fruit of their own loins, now?” He looked at the man from the corner of his eye. It was all a lie, anyone could tell that, the man barely fed me, barely clothed me, no one could ever really believe what he was saying, but the man had to make it look like he was about to lose the most precious thing in the world, all for a bigger whatever-the-guy-had-to-give. The man knew what Scruffy was saying was a lie. Scruffy knew the man knew what he was saying was a lie. And the man knew that Scruffy knew that he knew what Scruffy was saying was a lie. But the dance was mandatory, the steps set in a permanent rule book.
“Five hundred.”
“No, no, I could never sell my little girl.”
“Seven.”
“What kind of ******** would sell his own kid?”
“One thousand.”
“Now look here, I don’t care how much money you got, my kid ain’t for sale!” Scruffy looked at the man with his hard glare, daring him to go higher. The man looked Scruffy dead in the face, with the same expression he came into the ally with.
“Five grand.” Scruffy looked at the man in drunken….well I can’t really describe what he looked like. He looked like a lot of things. Surprised, confused, giddy, and most certainly plastered (but he always looked like that).
You could almost see the wheels turning in Scruffy’s head, how the cogs screeched and creaked and made little clicking noises now and then.
“Would she be goin’ to a nice school?”
“The best.”
“And she’d be livin’ in a nice house?”
“The finest.”
“And she won’t be used for no sex s**t?”
“None that she will ever be forced into doing.”
All this was an act, so that Scruffy wouldn’t be called a heartless b*****d that sold his kid off to a ***** for some cash that he’d spend on booze and hookers instead of using the money for a second chance at the real world, but then only hobo’s ever tried to get back into society. There were more words exchanged, none that I could really hear because everything was starting to get fuzzy at the edges. I saw the big wad of cash he dug up from his pocket, handed Scruffy a small wad, and smaller wads to everyone else in the circle as “extra-holiday fortune.” He walked around the group, came to where I lay motionless, wrapped me up in his coat, and carried me off into a car where I quickly knocked out from the exhaustion of living.

I don’t remember much of the first few weeks I was living with Jacob (the man who bought me). All I remember was that I was clean, I was warm, and I was fed. He would always tell me I slept like the dead but would wake up instantly when I smelled food and then fall right back to sleep once I had eaten everything that was presented to me. Others had told him children were always picky eaters, but living on the streets where you only ate when you found something yourself and ate it quickly or when Scruffy decided to feed you made you a never-be-picky-with-your-food kind of person. When I had finally woken up, when I had finally become a semi-healthy child and looked around at my new surroundings, I was about ready to cry. Not cry because I missed the streets and Scruffy, not cry for joy, but cry because everything felt so foreign. I was in a house of some kind, I was in a room, I was in a bed. And not just any bed, a comfy bed. A comfy bed with sheets and pillows and an actual mattress. The only other bed I’d ever been in was a cot at the homeless shelter that one time Scruffy couldn’t get a spot by one of the fires, and I had to share that one with Jules who hogged most of it.
I was a sniveling mess when Jacob walked in, trying to hold back my tears. It was the first time I had actually seen him. A handsome man in his early-to-mid twenties with dark brown hair and pale skin. His hair was cut just past his jaw line but he had most of it tied back so I could see his face, see those beautiful eyes I remembered from my last day in the streets. He looked at me, at the mess I was, and gave me a warm smile, a smile that instantly calmed me down. He wiped the gunk of snot and tears from my face with a handkerchief and picked me up off the bed. I didn’t feel awkward in his arms, I suppose it was because he had been doing it for weeks, but I felt warm inside and rested my head on his chest as he walked us through corridors and into a new room. It was the biggest bathroom I had ever seen, and I had only ever used those big public park bathrooms (that is, when I used an actual bathroom and didn’t just squat down somewhere no one cared). It was then that I had seen the toilet did I realize I had to use it. I squirmed in his grip and he let me down and I did my business and he helped me wash my hands. I wasn’t at all bothered with him being in there with me, modesty wasn’t exactly one of the virtues you learned around drunken bums and cheap hookers.
After I had used the bathroom, and learned how to brush my teeth, my stomach growled and Jacob chuckled. He picked me up again and walked us through the house again. I noticed a lot of doors and halls as we passed by. We eventually ended up in a huge shiny room, the kitchen. There was a big plate of food on the table and someone next to a sink washing pots and pans and spoons and stuff. The man (or was it a woman?) gave a bow of his head when he noticed us. Jacob sat me down on an especially high stool in front of the food and watched me as I ate, inching the glasses of water and freshly squeezed orange juice towards me every now and again. I ate until there was nothing left to eat and was extremely happy when I felt that I didn’t want, didn’t need, any more food. The dishwasher, who I noticed now was a very pretty boy, scooped up my dishes and washed them, dried them, and put them away inside one of the many cabinets of the kitchen. Jacob then scooped me up again, saying I must be tired from finally waking up, which was true, though I could never figure out why I was so tired after being asleep for so long. I fell asleep in his arms before we were even half way to the room that held the bed. I fell asleep to the steady beat of footsteps that reverberated through his chest.

“Genevieve? No? Hmm…Jewel? Okay, okay! That’s a definite no. Andria? Mmmm…No, it doesn’t suite you.” Jacob was looking through a book of names, having decided after a week since I’d woken up that I needed a name. He had asked me what my name was, but if I had ever had one Scruffy certainly never told me. He was having a difficult time trying to decide on one. I knew he had evidently found a suitable name because his eyes went a bit wide and he looked up from the book with an excited smile. “Jezebel! That’s your name! Jessie for short!” He came up close and touched his forehead and nose to mine and gave a small smile. “Jessie.”

“Jeeeeeesieee~~! Jee~eess!” He was calling out my name, trying to lure me out. I would not be fooled by such trickery! I was champion of hide-and-seek! I had always had to hide from men who were too touchy for their own good or from people who had threatened Scruffy that they’d call the cops and have me safe. But I had seen the people who come from the homes that the government put them in. If anything, it was better to die because Scruffy didn’t give a damn than turn out like the people who begged for the streets instead of those “homes.”
I could hear the click-clack of his footsteps on the hardwood floors. I was hiding in a linen closet of some sort, one of the hundreds I found throughout the house. I was giddy, I was nervous, I was excited as the click-clacking sounds got louder and louder. Then there was a shuffling, a change in the beat and my heart stopped. Jacob paused for a moment and then continued walking down the corridor, his footsteps receding to a dull echo before there was no noise at all.
Ha, ha! I am still the reigning champ!
I opened the closet door, planning to move onto my next hiding place. In an instant I was lifted from underneath my armpits and felt a strong chest at my back while large, pale arms held my body close.
“Gotcha!” Jacob cheered.
How could he have been waiting for me? I looked down to see a pair of wiggling socks. He had taken off his shoes, the cad!
“It’s time for your bath little missy.” I pouted as Jacob took me away to claim his prize of a tidier child.

“Ah! Stop squirming, Jessie!” I wriggled away, trying in vain to find a hiding place in the bath. Jacob lunged forward and caught me before I could get far, causing some of the water to slosh out of the tub. He wrapped his legs around me to prevent another escape. He then continued the vicious torment to my scalp and rubbed shampoo in. “Honestly now, baths aren’t that bad. They can be fun!” He looked at my doubtful face and gave an awkward smile. “Alright then, I’ll get you one of those rubber ducks to play with later.” He finished the bath by scrubbing me raw with a scratchy cloth that I thought might have skinned me completely by the time he was done with it. He wiped us both dry with some towels and even wrapped me up in my own little bathrobe, he just wrapped the towel around his waist.
He scooped me up (he always liked doing that) and carried me to his bedroom where our clothes were laid out. He dressed himself first in boxers and loose pajama pants and left the shirt for later or not at all. He dressed me into underwear and socks and a big, big shirt that almost touched my feet! He chuckled for a little while after he stepped back to inspect his work. “Heh, alright then, time for bed.”
I hopped up and scrambled to the top of the bed and dived underneath the covers. I had been sleeping in Jacob’s room as of late because I couldn’t get over the fear of sleeping in a place that was both too big and too small. The openness of the streets and the feel of bodies crammed together seemed to be embedded in me. Jacob took my fears to heart and had obliged me when I asked him if I could sleep with him. He had even moved all the clothes he had bought me into his room
Jacob went and closed the thick curtains and turned off the lights before climbing into bed. I scooted closer to him, he wound his arm around my shoulder and gave me a peck on the forehead.
“Sweet dreams Jezebel,” and with that we both drifted off to sleep as the first rays of daylight emerged.

I awoke sprawled across Jacob’s chest. He was a really loud snorer, and I knew something about loud snorers. I once had to sleep next to the loudest snorer ever. This woman was even arrested once for disturbing the peace because her snoring had been keeping two whole apartment buildings up.
Now that I was awake I couldn’t go back to sleep. I knew I had rested long enough because I felt like a ball of speed (I had seen some of the speedier speed addicts and they were all a hundred times more squirrelly than a squirrel.) I climbed down off the bed, being careful not to disturb Jacob. I opened the door and slipped through a sliver of a crack and gently closed the door behind me.
While it was only ever Jacob, myself, and the dishwasher/cook (I learned his name was Max) at night, daytime held a flurry of people all scuttling through the labyrinth of corridors. People were dusting, sweeping, mopping, and polishing. Everywhere. They were so busy they didn’t even notice me. I walked by them pressed against the wall, catching snippets of their various conversations as I walked along.
“I swear, the woman thinks that just because she hides it underneath the mattress it means we won’t find the damned thing!”
“The tape caught them right on--”
“He didn’t know what kind of--”
“--and the best part was the peanut butter right on their--”
“The cake! It was so beautiful! I swear I could just--”
“--bought me a puppy! She can be so sweet to me.”
They all talked, talked, talked, and worked, worked, worked.

My stomach growled at the anticipation of breakfast as I walked into the kitchen brimming with food for all the workers. I looked for Max in the sea of white aprons and found him setting down a plate of food in front of the especially high chair. Today’s breakfast was fresh strawberries on a huge waffle with cut up slices of cooked ham on the side and a glass of water and a smaller glass of orange juice. I ate every last bite and drank every last drop. I looked up and smiled at Max with a contented sigh.
During the day Max was like a second Jacob (though no one could really compare to Jacob.) He fed me, clothed me, played with me, and looked after me. Sometimes we even went outside the house on errands and it was so bright! I suppose I was getting used to living during the night with Jacob. He would take me outside as well, to parties with old friends in old houses.
Today Max said he was taking me to the park, “No not to ask for money,” he said. “This is so you can learn how to act around other people. You won’t be able to stay holed up in the house with the Master forever. You need to be exposed to the world of daylight.”
I was weary at first, the mothers having always dragged their children away by the collar whenever they saw me with Scruffy. But I played in the sand, on the swings, in the slide, all alongside other children, smiling and laughing and eventually being called back by their mothers. There was still sun up when the last of the children ran towards their mothers. I walked to Max who had been reading a book the whole time. He placed a bookmark in between the pages, stuffed the book into his backpack, lifted me up, and carried me home when I fell asleep to the steady beat of his heart.

I awoke to a buzzing, the kind of buzzing that is feint at first but then it reaches in, digs through your ears and echoes in your head as though you were in the middle of a beehive. Opening my eyes I saw a man in a box, his lips were moving but nothing but buzzing was heard. Either Max or Jacob (most likely Jacob) left the TV on mute. They knew I hated the sound of electricity running through the wires. Squinting at the screen I saw it was already 9 p.m. My stomach growled, I hadn’t eaten since breakfast at 2.
I went to the kitchen and found a plate of food in front of my seat. My seat was too high for me to get into by myself so I called out to Jacob and Max. There was no answer. I called and I called and I tried to climb up onto my seat but all in vain. Pouting, I went about looking for them around the house. In the corridors, in the closets, in the extra rooms, in the back yard, in the garden, in the garage, up the stairs, in the bedrooms, in the bathrooms, I searched everywhere my feet had taken me. Then I was in front of Max’s room. I was unofficially bared from his bedroom; told to respect other people’s privacy. By that time I was scared, terrified of being left all alone in such a large house, in such a cold place, a child doesn’t care about privacy.
I opened the door, just barely reaching the handle on my tip-toes, and witnessed the scene that truly set the stage to the rest of my life. A comfortable looking chair, a work desk, a bookshelf filled to the brim, a fully cushioned bed lined with green sheets, and right on top of that bed, Max and Jacob. Jacob was buried deeply within Max’s neck, Max’s head was thrown back, his eyes glazed over, his breath ragged. I stared for a bit, and then my stomach growled to remind me I was hungry so I called out to them. They jerked, startled at the sudden intrusion. Jacob pulled back quickly and Max winced, clutching his neck. Jacob looked at me wide eyed, looking scared, blood dribbling down his chin out his mouth, his tongue unconsciously licking it up.
“I’m hungry,” were the first words I ever remember saying.

In the kitchen, I enjoyed my lunch, eating up every last bite, from the ham to the pineapple. Both Max and Jacob looked at me wearily, taking cautious steps around me.
“So,” Jacob began, “what exactly did you see up there Jessie?” It was a bit funny, his face looked as though he had just made a bad joke and was trying to laugh it off.
“Nothing,” I answered. They both looked relieved for a second and even let out small sighs. “Jacob’s just a vampire.” I heard a small choking sound from their direction.
“W-what makes you say that?” Jacob’s eyes roamed around the room.
“You looked like Dracula.”
During the hot summer days, Scruffy would sneak us into the old cheap theaters to sleep off most of the day. The theaters would usually show the old black and white pictures, many of which were classic horror movies like “It Came From Beyond” or “The Monster from the Black Lagoon” and, of course, “Dracula.” I had seen those films so many times I could mouth all the lines by heart.
Jacob’s face looked horrified, “Dracula?! I’m way more handsome than that old fart! He doesn’t even know how to keep up with the times!

I WILL NEVER READ TWILIGHT!!!

and i need a writer because i stopped writing. =p
like i said, this is just the beginning
i have a general plot going on in my head but i dont really know how to put it into words

like...

SPOILERS!!!





Max will eventually leave and Jess will take over his role as Jacob's "daywalker" so to speak. I was planning on making this go on for decades, going in and out of their lives, in my story the one being fed on regularly has a longer life span. And so on and so forth, putting in random stories here and there. some vampire hunters and vampire parties and paranoid neighbors seeing a little girl who didn't age going outside by herself over years. its all just randomness in my head really.

i added some time >_>


Jacob’s face looked horrified, “Dracula?! I’m way more handsome than that old fart! He doesn’t even know how to keep up with the times! Always going on and on about ‘Ven I vas a king… Man those ver good times! Vee knew how to party then!’ We get it man! You used to rule Transylvania, but then who hasn’t?” Jacob looked at me strangely, seemingly trying to figure me out. “You aren’t scared of me are you?”
I shook my head. Who in the world would be afraid of Jacob? “Real vampires are funner than the ones in the movies.”
“Oh?” he asked with a smile. “And what other vampires do you know?”
“The ones at your parties,” I said while taking a scoop of soup into my mouth. Max seemingly glared at Jacob and Jacob shrank away from Max.
“Master, I thought you had said she didn’t notice.”
“Hey! How was I supposed to know the kid was so smart!?”
I watched on as Max continued to lecture Jacob into submission. It was funny. I don’t think I had really seen Max and Jacob interact so much before. They must have known each other for a long time because everything seemed more like a rehearsed act than a spur of the moment argument. They had a really strong bond, and I seemed to hate them for a moment.

i actually really liked this one, i think you have a lot of talent for writing. you should continue it yourself, after all, no one could know where you want to go with this story, as for continuing it, i would really like you to (wishful thinking) i wanna know what happens ;_; lol, for the general plot you could add twists, things like...her school life, how she deals with having a vampire parent, and, if it were me, i would make it so she DOES age at a regular pace until a certain point (like when her bodys finished growing, or, idk, she just ages at a slower pace then others.) the possibilities are endless, just find whatever works for you, and go with it!
(Please continue to post the story -very wishful thinking- 'cause i really wanna know what happens...;_; )