PREFACE - LIAM
Liam, Jan 11 th, 2012: I had known something was different about her from the moment she walked onto the stage; looking like a startled deer. Had it been any other auditionee - and there were hundreds who showed up looking afraid - I would have immediately drawn an “x” through their name and written them off without a second thought. But she was different, and not just because she was good. She was better than good. When she spoke, the words came out as if they were natural - something I continuously tried to beat into students’ heads without much success.
And she was beautiful, but that was inconsequential. Most actresses are some type of beauty, or they make you believe so. And this is a tough industry. It’s not seen through rose tinted glasses. If I can’t see some sort of physical beauty in them, even at this young age, then they don’t get a shot. Better they learn it here than somewhere else.
Speaking of shots, I had certainly had at least two too many last night. It was a rough night, rougher than most. It seems closer to a full moon, the cravings always get worse. I’m not sure why, and I haven’t bothered to figure it out, but come the full moon, the urge to feed on human blood is never stronger. The alcohol helps, although it isn’t always a cure.
Which led to that morning, and my pounding head. Curse immortality that comes with hangovers. I still suffer the effects nearly every time. And when walking into a room full of energized, over-dramatic teenagers, the symptoms double.
I nodded curtly to a few of them and made my way toward the front of the room. Some of them called my name - no doubt they had questions about the latest simple assignment I’d given them. No matter how simple I made the homework, they had questions.
I was leaning against my desk, back to them to try to drown out the noise, when suddenly, the pain started to subside. The room was growing quiet, and the scent of human blood was neutralized.
I took a deep, pain free breath, turning around, proud of myself for controlling the urge. But then I saw I had done so at all.
She was standing in the center of the now-quiet room, blushing at the curious stares. Her long hair was hanging straight down her back, her huge brown eyes that had first attracted me were staring right into my own. But it was her scent; calming my urges, that made me hold her gaze, wondering what she was, if she knew. I felt better almost instantly, swallowing to find the words to speak.
“Take a seat, Amy.” I said, gesturing with my free hand, and she nodded, sitting down almost instantly. “And the rest of you...” I said, giving them my usual glare. They scuttled to their seats, pulling out note books. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her the entire lesson. What was she? What was drawing me to her? What story of us was just beginning?