My hair had become frizzy from the rain, and my caramel brown eyes, where baggy. I was feeling anything but attractive, and anything but ready to see the one man who I ever truly loved. Who just happened to be a 302 year old, vampire, from a long forgotten town by the sea, somewhere back in old England.           

I poked my head out of the bathroom, long enough to see that, Dormai along with my robe was no longer lying on the floor.             “NO! No I do not forgive you!” I slammed the door behind me and stalked off toward the kitchen, where I could hear the microwave running.          

   Dormai stood staring into my microwave bracing him self with both arms, on the white and green tiled counters.            

 “Oh…Well, just make your self at home!” I spat, throwing my arms into the air, sending my lilac night gown up above the knee.                       

 He looked over his shoulder, and eyed my legs.                       

“What?” I asked darkly.                                   

“Nothing, just been a while, since that there was something to be seen…”                                                

He turned back to the microwave at the sound of the bell, and removed the wobbly bag of hot Hospital blood, I had, had frozen in the darkest corner of my freezer, for years.           

My arms were tightly crossed. “May I have my…”                        

 He turned and slipped off my robe, then politely draped it over my chilled shoulders.            

“Thanks.”                       

I watched as he strolled over to the cupboard by the fridge, and pulled it open, reaching in, and feeling around, to no avail.           

“You moved them?”                        “

Yes, I moved the cups.” I smiled proudly and nodded.                                   

Dormai tossed the pouch of blood onto the counter, and I watched as it rippled like a tiny red sea.           

“Would you be so kind as to tell me where you put them, love?”                        

“Second cupboard to your left.”                                   

He reached in and pulled out an innocent looking white coffee mug, and gave it a first glass ticket to hell by filling it to the brim with, (Charity Blood). In other words, blood that was donated, to be used for human patients… To keep those who were actually living alive.           

 I sat down at the center piece of my spotless kitchen, a beautiful cherry oak table, and motioned with a nod, for him to set across from me. He obeyed, which pleased me.                        

 “We need to talk, do we not?”                    

    I sighed and nodded once more, as he sipped his drink.                                    

 “I see you forgave me enough, at one time, to choose not to remove my frozen dinners,” he said with a smirk.           

“I forgot that one. You see nothing.”                                   

 “Look Leecie…”                       

“Loretta … Please.” I said coldly, even though it only maid the heaviness in my chest all the more achy.           

“Alright then, Loretta,” he said lowering his voice, and draining all the cheer from it. “May I continue?”           

 “I suppose Dormai, go right ahead, why don’t you just lay it out for me? Tell me why you spent four years of my life, and yours pretending to give a ****, so you could live in my tiny apartment, and every once and a while, weasel your dead dick out of your pants, long enough to get off!!! Well… Let me tell you, just because four years was is meaningless to you, because you’ve been around for nearly 400, does not mean it meant nothing to me!” I shouted erupting from my chair, and storming out the back door.           

He wouldn’t follow; he’d turn to ash if he did. The storm had moved off a few miles, and small rays off sun were piercing through the thick forest of pines.          

  I know right now I seem like a complete bitch. Maybe I am a bitch. Hell I don’t know.           

I sat down on a rock a few feet up from the lake, in a nice privet spot, that couldn’t be seen from the house. This was what I wanted most, not to be scene at all. Tears were a great sign off weakness to my mother and always had been. So I often found quiet spots to release my emotions.