-seven- good memories

The sun shun high above us, the prickly heat hitting my skin, tanning it glittery gold. It feel like it was just yesterday, so clear and vivid, like a freshly painted painting. Not as damp that you couldn't touch it or else the wet paint would wear off, and not as dull and old as a painting smeared for centuries with dust. The scene so serene and beautiful you would think the painting would have come alive right before your eyes. I'm sitting in the vanilla silky soft sandy beach my hand distractedly tracing letters in the sand and pinching them like pixie dust falling enchantingly, my eyes looking ahead at the roaring waves that receded as they came closer and closer to the shore. Dolphins and seagulls competing at the midline of the ocean, flipping high above the air and falling back down, the impact of its fall leaving a spray of glitter. I pulled my outstretched legs over to my chest hugging them as if to coat the front of my swimsuit, chin resting above my knees. A chuckle came right beside me, it came from Zack. He wore nothing but beach trunks, his finely outlined torso and chest straight as he leaned back with his arms behind him. He was staring up above the sky, his chocolate brown irises overpowered by hazel. His hazel brown tresses and profile dare I say gleamed like a fallen angel's gold and beautiful under the sunlight. "I missed this." he would say and flash me that adorable little smirk and pull me into a cuddling hug, both of us falling in the sand, my back fitting perfectly against his chest as his strong arms held me without much force just relaxing and enjoying our perfectly sparked warmth. Time seemed to stop and all I could hear is our laughter, his body under me vibrating tickling my stomach, I squirmed in his hold, my belly flat on his, our eyes would meet, then our heart beat under us would synchronize and our lips would touch, lightly then passionately, lips curling into a smile as they met each other into one brush and smack. Everything around us would blur like a fast forward video and now we are running around the park, both Zack and I fully clothed and wore matching striped t-shirts and jeans. Sand and dirt sticked in the toes of my sandals as I kicked my way freely away from the giggling handsome Zack. He finally caught me and swung me off my feet happily, his arms wrapping around my torso and spinning until we fell on the sandy ground below us. Something cold falls on my neck, we both look up admiring the first fall of winters snow. Then we are the community zoo, a little girl with the same smile as his sat on my lap as I sat on Zack's, all of us squeezed into one swing set, swinging happily like a real family. These were one of the many best memories of my life.

December 31 2025, 10 p.m.

"Z...ack" muttered Quinn, stretching her arms forward, away from her original posture, head rested on both arms above the study table. The book under her had its pages crumpled, but due to the durability of its material, managed to be least of harmed. 

"Whose Zack?" Said Elliot, lifting an eyebrow as he leaned against the edge of the study table in front of her. He had a book on one hand, the other tucked under his elbow, he wasn't directly staring at her but focused on the words in his book listening intently for her answer. Quinn stared at him, for a moment until he spoke again, this time he tilted his head and finally looked at her his hallow gold to green irises like marbles confined in a clearly polished glass jars, expectant. "is he your boyfriend or something?"

"my husband actually," Quinn flattened the wrinkled surface of the paperback, "ex-husband" she added.

"Oh." Was all he muttered mainly whispering something in-audible to himself that she can't hear. She wondered if it was a habit of his to avoid the graze of others and unknowingly ridiculing them offhandedly. "Hitler sent me to fetch you. You seemed like you were having a good dream so I didn't bother," he smirked removing his specs so that he could stare at her directly. She might have imagined it, but his eyes seemed larger than usual, bloodshot and druggish, as if he had been sniffing crack or something illegal. "I wouldn't want to end up like Dimitri when he tried to wake Silvia up." He joked jerking a thumb to point out the traces of drool streaming down her lips. 

Quinn blushed quickly rubbing her lips clean with the sleeves of her shirt. "Whose Hitler?"

Elliot shrugged, his bony shoulders falling flat into place, "You know the German guy who killed many Jews because they killed Christ and he in actuality wanted to be a priest?" 

"I know that kid," growled Quinn, "what do I look like 12? I'm 30 for crying out loud! I mean whose Hitler?"

"my, Lucas, whatever you call him." Inclined Elliot snapping his book shut, the old leather maroon paperback shun with its gold boldface lettering titled 'Truths untold: Hitler."

Quinn stretched her arms forward then high above her clasping her fingers, the numbness of her back and neck relaxed and eased with a satisfactory snap. "You don't like him much huh?"

"Wouldn't even try to." Snorted Elliot poking his finger in the hole of sweater.

"Well what does he want?"

"The party is tonight. He wants to get you fitted before the party."

"It's tonight?"

"Yep. Tonight you'll be officially part of the Garner clan," he said wiggling his pale bony fingers, "with sparkly fireworks as the main course. You're one lucky gal." 

Elliot stalked across the room, straightening his worn out sweater and jeans, his specs hanging on the collar of his shirt. He looked back noting her puzzled look and a knowing smirked played on his lips, "there's still time before the party, you could visit him if you want." He murmured, so quiet but audible as he closed the door behind him, and the moment the door clicked a sudden gust came towards Quinn, and she casted a glance at the open window across the room, moonlight spilling out from it, the moon half full shining brightly with the millions of brilliant stars covering the night sky. 

Lucas in his favorite silver French suit strode gallantly across the large red carpeted floors, a glass of scarlet on hand. He gestured a quick hello with the guest and stopped short in front of the shorter man in an elegant shiny ebony black suit. He wore his silver hair back, a handkerchief tucked on his left breast pocket. His face as always expressionless and wrinkled. A large mole took over his left cheek and a single fiber of hair sticking above it. His beard unshaven and he reeked of eternity, the scent of unsophisticated men's toiletries. Lucas spoke, breaking the tension and silence between them. 

"Good even, Charlie." He said in his ancestral trace of Scott-French accent. 

Charlie broke into a side smirk his facial expression wrinkling, "Lucas," he said his words sound unusually reserved, "your parties as always, are stunningly grand." He looked around as if looking for someone very important, fanning himself, as if he didn't enjoy much of crowded festivities, "where is the highlight of the night?" His smirk grew wider, as if he intended to mock him, "you know we hate to be kept waiting." 

This time it was Lucas who broke into a smile, rueful but wickedly confident at the same time, "you know how women are. And I wouldn't mind having her take her time, I want her to be the talk of the night, the highlight as we speak."

"She must be very well interesting if you speak very much highly of her." He patted Lucas on the shoulder, Lucas quite taken aback by his sudden action didn't speak any further instead eased flashing back a wicked smile radiating much confidence at the other man. "I'm looking forward to it."

Quinn's hair was ruffled out of place by the violent whip of wind. Snow stung her cheeks like shards of glass ripping through them. She crouched behind the bush, peering through its small peep hole and into the front porch of her former home, Zack's rusty pick up truck had just parked into its rightful place, its humming had just stopped and so did its headlights, the orange ray of light disappearing like magic. A foot stepped out of the truck, leather boots clacking together with the weight he had on hand, grocery bags filled with what looked like vegetables, poultry, fruits, and toys, mostly toys. 

The front door opened, spilling bright white light as white as the winter snow, a little boy hand in hand with another boy, five years older, stepped out onto the front porch and forcing a hug on his leg. He bent down, ruffling the kid's hair, his smile burning the life out of Quinn's unbeating chest. Tailing from behind the kids was a beautiful woman, years younger than she was. Her belly was bulging, hair pinned up into a messy bun. She smiled sweetly, cheeks flushed as she kissed him in the cheeks, and another slightly longer on the lips. 

Some envy ran through Quinn, this was her husband, her ex-husband. She was divorced with him, she knew, but he acted like it didn't affected him at all. After all, men, she thought, were good liars, easy users. He was probably happy she was gone, maybe he didn't even worried about her, wondered what had happened to her that night. It had been nearly a week, but did he even tried looking for her, made sure there was a corpse identified as hers to prove she was dead? No, he probably would not have thought of that. And why should he when it was one of those merriest times of the year?

Seeing how she couldnt bear any of their own world intimacy, Quinn got up to her feet, brushing the dirt off her jeans, an arm rested on her shoulder, and she looked up double taking whether she would have flipped him on the spot or scream. iInstead she stood there locking her graze with a silhouette of Lucas whose eyes gleamed in the darkness like a leopard creeping up to it's prey behind her. "Like I said there is no where going back." He cooed, slyly tucking the strands of her hair behind her ear and sliding his fingers with hers, intertwining them. "I'll have to scold Elliot for letting you go off like that."
"Don't," interrupted Quinn raising her hand to preserve the distance between them, "I decided to go on my own."
"I know," Lucas said peering around, "I guess I have to punish you as well. But for now, we must return the guild is dying to meet you."
"I guess there's no way out of this?"
"Well," said Lucas biting his bottom lip, "I can dress you up myself to make it much faster, or let Silvia have her way with you. Choose your pick?" 
The thought of Lucas dressing her up was out of the question, but Silvia whom she has just met was something awkward. Silvia who although looked fashionable didn't look woman friendly material. She'd probably dab too much lipstick or eyeliner on her eyes to tear them up and stain her pupils black. She'd probably bite her nails off of pull her hair while she was at it in braiding her hair. Make her look pitiful and less attractive than she was. 
Quinn let out a gulp, her throat stinging in pain, "you gotta be kidding me."

"je crains de ne pas" Lucas chirped enunciating every word flawlessly and effortlessly with a wicked smile passing his lips. 

"What did you just say?"

"je-crains-de-ne-pas," Lucas repeated this time slowly enunciating every word like an elementary teacher would to a first grader, "it's french, it means 'I'm afraid not'."

"I didn't know you speak French," Quinn admitted rubbing her arms sheepishly embarrassed that she had only little knowledge of this man beside her, her sire- the man she had a blood bond with. Seeing her do this, Lucas arched his eyebrows, removing his suit jacket and offering it to Quinn. Quinn nodded, she wasn't cold or anything, but it was nice that he had shown her some empathy within his kindness. 

"Living for eternity gives you time to do and learn all sorts of things," he continued retouching the buttons of his French suit, "and my great-great grandfather I believe was pure French."

"And your father?" Quinn beckoned, unable to resist the urge of wanting to know more about him, she itched for more information, even if it wasn't necessary.

Dumbfounded, Lucas turned to look at her, straying away from his distracted graze of the icy street railing with his fingers sliding on them, "Huh?"

"You said your great-great-grandfather was French. And your father is?"

"He's 1/4 French in his mother side, his father was half Scottish-Irish." Lucas squinted as if trying to recall a distant memory, "And part British." He added. 

Lucas and Quinn strode side by side in silence, Quinn's bleached curls floating with wind. Lucas buried his cold palms and fingers inside his pocket, his whistling the only sound preventing Quinn from the thought of being driven insane. They had been talking a while ago, but everything seemed awkward when they had nothing more to say. Lucas stopped in front of Messenger Street, a little farther northeast from the manor. Along the lines of homes they were face to face with a two story cottage, its exterior painted summer lime accompanied by Winter's snow covered bushes, a tobacco colored Chevy half buried with snow parked in a landscape of the cottage's porch. Orange light shimmered from the old fashioned oil powered lamp, its ornate engravement letting out that eighties feel, the early influence of the spaniards. By the bay windows, figures varying in sizes huddled up, each with various expressions and actions. Tears began to pour uncontrollably out of her eyes as she watches the Silouettes exhanged hugs, handing out decorative boxes - presents. Little kids in their pj's laughing in delight wore Santa hats kicking and scratching, tearing and opening their presents, one of them, Quinn's graze rested upon for quite some time, unraveled his present delicately from its green and red belled wrapping, a rare series collective action figure of the fantastic four's human torch, his shiny plastic built gleaming like wild fire. He held it close against his chest, tears of joy streaming out of his little chinky eyes. Quinn who had tried to bite back the reflexive urge of wanting to burst into tears, clenched her unbeating chest, the hollow inside her felt as if it were tightening, suffocating her in pain. The elder woman, in a cottony jade sweater with a Frosty the snowman design, her beautiful mother, pulled him up to his feet, he dropped the wrapper, the little card taped cheaply on the top falling out of place and softly drifting down to the ground, Quinn could see it clearly, time seemed to have stopped for a moment, everything was in slow motion. Her eyes rested in the drifting paper, "Merry Christmas Kid. - with love, big sis." Was scrawled, in delicate cursive writing. She identified it well, and her heart seemed to tighten once more, her handwriting.

Lucas squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, Quinn jerked back surprisingly, surprised that Lucas was still there, surprised that she forgot he was there. She turned to look at him. His hair flickered fluttering with the breezy wind, his glassy jade graze rested on her, Quinn couldn't quite compensate whether he wore an indifferent expression or a worried one. They both looked the same either way. "We have to go back." He whispered his hand still rested on her shoulder.

Quinn nodded wiping away the remnants of her unknowing tears with her sleeves, sniffled and went ahead without another word, her flats crushing the snow like ice under her every step of the way. They walked in silence once more, Quinn a few feet ahead, Lucas right behind her, giving her the space she needed to think, cool off her mind and let all the emotions flow. She couldn't go back now, this was reality. This was her new life, where she belongs, away from her family, and forever with eternity. It hurts, it really did, but she had to accept it, for the second chance she was given, even if she didn't ask for it, life had to go on and her life won't go anywhere if she sat in the dark corner sobbing herself to sleep, blaming and cursing herself. It was a new year for heavens sake, she had to move on, have to move on.

Author's Note

http://www.wattpad.com/story/9743901-le-vampyre-diaries