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Description
Brett sat in his bed, staring up at the picture he had drawn earlier. It was pretty sloppy, but gorgeous otherwise. To him, at least. He let out a tired moan, collapsing back into his bed lazily, his hair falling with a swift flip to the left. He stared out across the carpeted floor, his nostrils flaring every couple seconds for his own entertainment. Brett's alarm clock gleamed in bright numbers, reading ten seventeen. He sighed, closing his eyes slowly for a moment before opening them. Brett froze, an image staring across his room at him. "Brett... S-sweetheart..." a female voice moaned, the only thing showing was her body. What her face was, was encased in a curtain of thick, blonde hair. "My son. My..." it whispered, and Brett sat up quickly. It was clearly an image of his mother, her height, her hair, her slender, pale shape. Brett's face paled, watching what his mother might be standing across from him. "Go away..." he whispered, shutting his eyes tightly like a scared child. Brett heard a quiet noise, one that he couldn't really explain, and slowly opened one eye. And there, is room was empty. He pursed his lips, clutching the bed sheets tightly in his mother's fingers. Long, pale, and slender. "M-mommy..." he squeaked, surprising himself at his choice of wording, but went with it, memories flooding in and leaking out in an emotional rampage. He stood slowly, his shoulders limp and tears brimming his eyes. With a deep sigh and a sob, he walked over to his desk quickly, scattering with pages and notebooks with a swipe of his hand. "Son of a!" he sobbed, gritting his teeth and ripping his mattress from the springs and frame of his bed onto the floor. His fangs dug painfully into his bottom lip, blood pooling and running down his chin. "Go away..." he growled, much like an animal, before falling into a seated position on the floor. He glanced around, not much damage done, but he hadn't meant it. He looked up and to his right, his reflection smiling back at him in the mirror. He looked like such a monster, blood was running down his chin and neck. His pale skin was much more sick looking, and his eyes gleamed a deep, sickeningly monstrous looking silver-brown. "Who are you now..." he said, not caring if his stepmother or, if he was home, his father heard him. The reflection licked its lips. "A vampire. A monster. And tonight, a murderer." he grinned, standing slowly. If he was going to be alive forever, mine as well make the best of this. Huh, he could even really kill all the jerks at school who called him a freak. Brett sighed, trotting over to his window carelessly, as if he wasn't about to murder someone with a slow, painful death in order to live. No, tonight he was just "hunting". He left the bed and the multiple things on the floor now, and dropped from the window like a stone. Landing carefully on his feet, he walked along the street, inhaling deeply for any trailing souls left in the night. The smell of blood drafted into his nostrils, filling the boy with a deep desire. He grinned, looking anyone who was here. A figure came into view, and he trotted over. Licking his fangs, Brett uttered a cheerful hello. Then she turned around. "Oh. My. God. Brett?! I totally wouldn't think you'd be out so late. Ha, I'm like, a creature of the night now. Pretty... okay." Sabrina said, her voice drifted to the "I'm so depressed" tone at the end. Yet, she was dressed in a bright, thick pink jacket and yellow skinny jeans. Her boots rode up to her knees, clamping with small, silver buckles. Even they were some kind of bright, pink color. Brett subconsciously groaned and cursed to himself. He could drink Sabrina anytime, but right now, it didn't seem she was worth the time. Her blood was probably poison. Brett pursed his lips in a sarcastic smile. "Like, I am totally a night owl!" he grumbled, flaring his nostrils. Sabrina giggled, "Okay, so. I was wondering." she smiled lightly. "I know guys HAVE to ask girls or it's like, weird. But, go out with me?".

Description
Brett sat in his bed, staring up at the picture he had drawn earlier. It was pretty sloppy, but gorgeous otherwise. To him, at least. He let out a tired moan, collapsing back into his bed lazily, his hair falling with a swift flip to the left. He stared out across the carpeted floor, his nostrils flaring every couple seconds for his own entertainment. Brett's alarm clock gleamed in bright numbers, reading ten seventeen. He sighed, closing his eyes slowly for a moment before opening them. Brett froze, an image staring across his room at him. "Brett... S-sweetheart..." a female voice moaned, the only thing showing was her body. What her face was, was encased in a curtain of thick, blonde hair. "My son. My..." it whispered, and Brett sat up quickly. It was clearly an image of his mother, her height, her hair, her slender, pale shape. Brett's face paled, watching what his mother might be standing across from him. "Go away..." he whispered, shutting his eyes tightly like a scared child. Brett heard a quiet noise, one that he couldn't really explain, and slowly opened one eye. And there, is room was empty. He pursed his lips, clutching the bed sheets tightly in his mother's fingers. Long, pale, and slender. "M-mommy..." he squeaked, surprising himself at his choice of wording, but went with it, memories flooding in and leaking out in an emotional rampage. He stood slowly, his shoulders limp and tears brimming his eyes. With a deep sigh and a sob, he walked over to his desk quickly, scattering with pages and notebooks with a swipe of his hand. "Son of a!" he sobbed, gritting his teeth and ripping his mattress from the springs and frame of his bed onto the floor. His fangs dug painfully into his bottom lip, blood pooling and running down his chin. "Go away..." he growled, much like an animal, before falling into a seated position on the floor. He glanced around, not much damage done, but he hadn't meant it. He looked up and to his right, his reflection smiling back at him in the mirror. He looked like such a monster, blood was running down his chin and neck. His pale skin was much more sick looking, and his eyes gleamed a deep, sickeningly monstrous looking silver-brown. "Who are you now..." he said, not caring if his stepmother or, if he was home, his father heard him. The reflection licked its lips. "A vampire. A monster. And tonight, a murderer." he grinned, standing slowly. If he was going to be alive forever, mine as well make the best of this. Huh, he could even really kill all the jerks at school who called him a freak. Brett sighed, trotting over to his window carelessly, as if he wasn't about to murder someone with a slow, painful death in order to live. No, tonight he was just "hunting". He left the bed and the multiple things on the floor now, and dropped from the window like a stone. Landing carefully on his feet, he walked along the street, inhaling deeply for any trailing souls left in the night. The smell of blood drafted into his nostrils, filling the boy with a deep desire. He grinned, looking anyone who was here. A figure came into view, and he trotted over. Licking his fangs, Brett uttered a cheerful hello. Then she turned around. "Oh. My. God. Brett?! I totally wouldn't think you'd be out so late. Ha, I'm like, a creature of the night now. Pretty... okay." Sabrina said, her voice drifted to the "I'm so depressed" tone at the end. Yet, she was dressed in a bright, thick pink jacket and yellow skinny jeans. Her boots rode up to her knees, clamping with small, silver buckles. Even they were some kind of bright, pink color. Brett subconsciously groaned and cursed to himself. He could drink Sabrina anytime, but right now, it didn't seem she was worth the time. Her blood was probably poison. Brett pursed his lips in a sarcastic smile. "Like, I am totally a night owl!" he grumbled, flaring his nostrils. Sabrina giggled, "Okay, so. I was wondering." she smiled lightly. "I know guys HAVE to ask girls or it's like, weird. But, go out with me?".