Falling to Pieces(WT) Chapter One

I woke gasping for breath. I sprang up from the mattress, sitting bolt upright clutching my bare chest. My open eyes cloaked with the same blackness they’d seen when they were closed.

I sniffed, searching for a scent. I was somewhere unfamiliar. I could smell my father, well, not biologically, but the man I called Father.

“Oh, yeah.” I spoke out loud, despite being alone in my new room, offering myself a bit of reassurance. My vision suddenly switched on like a light. I made out the contents of the room clearly, despite the darkness.

We’d moved.

The journey had been nothing but a pain in the ass, or arse, as I really should say now.

I flopped back down on the Egyptian cotton sheet, wrinkling my nose at memory of climbing into the large wooden crate, comfortably padded and lined with pure red silk. I’d had everything I needed in there with me, but it’s unpleasant being nailed into a crate for a day, regardless of the decor. I squeezed my eyes tight shut and grimaced recalling my Fathers harsh tone.

“Now, Teagan, you must remember not to fidget.”

He’d said it with a stony expression. I’d considered telling him to go fuck him self, I didn’t want to go with him in the first place.

The electric pull of his possession forced me to follow wherever he chose to go.

Like a good little fledgling I’d smiled sweetly at him, instead. “Yes, father, you have told me many times of the importance of not moving around. I do remember the first time. Did I let you down then?”

The first time we’d travelled thousands of miles the Wright brothers hadn’t even been born, let alone invented the aeroplane.

I remember, Thomas, my maker, my saviour giving me the same instructions in 1853 when we’d boarded the Washington, bound for New York.

Back then, I’d listened carefully to his every word. Thomas had stroked my tear stained cheek with his cold fingers, his green eyes bright and glossy, gazing into mine intently.

“Listen to me, my dear child.”

His voice so soft it was a whisper, I raised my face closer to his.

“You must remember to keep very still, if we are discovered, we’ll burn in the sun, or they will kill us. They will know what we are.”

I’d nodded slowly in reply, completely, at his command. I was so new that I shined and sparkled like a new pin to adorn him with.

Sweetly, he had waited outside of my crate whilst I’d lowered myself down, my face turned up to his as I hunkered down, my eyes wide. Thomas had lowered his smiling lips down to my white cheek, pressing them to it.

“You will be safe now, my love.”

I knew I would be. I understood why we had to go. The warmth of his love spread through me and I returned his smile.

He straightened himself back up, turning to his servants, his expression returning to a business like quality.

“Seal it.” He ordered the men. Then the lid was nailed shut. I slept for the majority of the time. It was a few days before Thomas’s servant released us. The trip was well under way by then and I’d run out of the supplies that had been placed in the crate with me. It took all the will I had to stop myself from draining that servant dry.

I was so thirsty.

For six weeks, the servant would let us out of the crates to feed on the unsuspecting crew and passengers.

When the ship docked in New York, they were around one hundred passengers lighter. Of course, that hadn’t all been down to Thomas and I, some had been taken by disease and pure misfortune.

I slipped off my bed, bringing myself back to reality and walked into the bathroom, flipping on the light, more out of habit than necessity. My vision is perfect in the darkness, after taking a moment to adjust anyway.

I inspected myself in the mirror; I’ve got ginger hair. Ok, ok, maybe not ginger, I’m somewhere in between red and blonde. It seriously fucks me off.

If I could just be a red head or a blonde I would feel a bit happier, but no, I’m stuck in the middle of the two. I’ve bleached it blonde in the past, but I wake up the next night and it’s back, stuck in purgatory between the two. I even shaved it off once, the whole damn lot, but I woke to find the strands re-grown back down to my waist.

At least my transition couldn’t affect the pallor of my skin, I’ve always been as white as a boil washed sheet, a hazard of being Irish, I guess?

When I was human my oval shaped eyes were a dark blue, but since the change they are cyan speckled with flecks of violet, it appears that nothing can make up it’s mind on my body.

“For goodness sake, Teagan!” Thomas bellowed from the doorway of my bathroom.

I continued my gaze into the mirror.

“Have you not heard of clothes?” I watched Thomas out the corner of my eye, he turned to face away from my exposed body.

“Well, Thomas, this is my bathroom. Have you never heard of knocking?”

Picking up my mascara, I unscrewed it and began applying it to my eyelashes, trying to act as if he wasn’t still standing there.

“Well, I didn’t want you to get….well, over hungry.”

I pushed passed him without attempting to cover up my nakedness, back into my large bedroom.

“Fear not, father. I’m going out now.”

“By yourself?” His voice high-pitched. “You won’t know where to go, we’re not in Montana now, Teagan.”

I rolled my eyes at his words keeping them dead ahead, unwilling to look at him, I pretended to inspect the crimson feature wall I was facing. I’d pulled on my jeans, not bothering with underwear. I was hungry.

“I’m well aware of where we are thank you very much, Father. You know I prefer to feed by myself, without any of your corrections.” I snatched up the green silk shirt, it slithered over my skin sending the nerve endings to alert. I was a little excited at the thought of tasting new blood.

“I’m sorry, Teagan. Of course, I forgot. You can’t take constructive criticism. I only endeavour to help you to improve your skill set.” His voice was tinged with sarcasm, eyes narrowed with severity. “I don’t know when you reverted to being a spoilt little teenager.”

His Italian leather shoes spun on the thick red pile carpet as his slim figure, a blur, disappeared out of the heavy walnut door.

I raised an eyebrow. “Dick.” Escaped my mouth without consideration.

I slumped back down onto the super-king bed. Actually, I was behaving like a sulky teenager. Thomas had given me everything anyone could ever wish for. He’d saved me from a sad existence, there were some things in my human life that I would have liked to see, but I know that everything he does, he does for me.

The move to London had annoyed me. I don’t know why. Our lives in Montana were remote; it wasn’t as if I was leaving anything that I loved behind. I should have been grateful for the streams of people and the bright lights of the city I was in.

Huffing at my own behaviour I slipped my feet into green ballet style shoes. I filled my nostrils with the air as I stepped out into the hallway, trying to sniff Thomas out.

The house is huge, so it took me a while to trace him to the drawing room. I hovered by the door, he pretended not to notice me, and his eyes remained firmly on the book he was clutching. He was sitting next to the intricate stone fireplace in a salmon coloured high backed chair; his lips pinched his posture stiff.

“Father.” I said quietly.

“What?” he snapped, he didn’t look at me.

“I’m so sorry for my behaviour. You’re right, I’m acting like an adolescent. Can you forgive me? We can start afresh?”

“You know I will.” He said his eyes finally meeting mine, his face softening. “Can you forgive me for bringing you to London?”



“It’s not so bad.” I smiled waving my hand around the plush room. “Can we possibly discuss our new beginning later? I’m so hungry.”

He shook himself, as if he had forgotten that I hadn’t eaten in days.

“Of course, my love. I suggest that you go to Hyde Park, it’s a few minutes walk, you won’t be detected there.”

I nodded letting my smile reach my eyes.

I sped to the front door, opening it wide. The air was still quite warm and pollution doused it, I supposed I would have to get used to it. I no longer lived in the middle of no-where.

I skipped down the front steps, the houses around me glowing orange from the streetlights that lined the pavement. The houses all like the one I live in, painted a clean, creamy colour. All of the doors and railings wrapping around them painted black in stark contrast, neat with bevelled triangular carvings in them, tall, proud and narrow structures. I couldn’t believe how clean it is, I always imagined London to feel and look dirty. I guess I live in Kensington, so it’s well kept?

I reached the edge of the park within a few minutes. I walk on the path lined with globular street lamps omitting white pearly light. Spying a bank of tree’s I walked over and pressed the length of my body against the bark, pressing my cheek against it closing my eyes, breathing in it’s earthy goodness. I heard traffic noises coming from the road drown out my thoughts, I concentrated on blocking them all out, when I succeeded it sounded like a pop, I can hear the swoosh of the Serpentine, the wind rattling the soft leaves and grass.

My eyes snapped open as I feel and hear the vibration of footsteps, too clunky and unrefined to be an animal. The human gets closer, I can hear their ragged breath, feel their heartbeat pumping the delicious blood through their veins.

My eyes were on him, a stout man, short, fat and bald, his suit grey and crumpled, his white-collar open tie loosened exposing his fleshy neck. He reaches level with my hiding place, in a blurry flash I snatch his large body pressing him against the tree my fangs extending along the way immediately stabbing his neck. My mouth filled with sweet, rich, sticky liquid tinged with the taste of alcohol.

He was groaning, the venom providing an aesthetic.

I wrapped my arms around his huge waist and shifted his body gently onto the grass so that I was kneeling beside him, I pulled my fangs out of his neck whilst placing my hand over his mouth. The man’s eyes were wide for a split second before the make-up of the venom had a chance to convert in his blood steam. He flinched, I knew the process was complete, the poison from my fangs had wiped his memory of my attack from his brain. I quickly moved my hand from his mouth to his cheek.

“Are you ok, Mister?” I asked him frowning.

“Wh..what happened?”

“A cyclist knocked you flying, you were unconscious for a minute or so.”

“A cyclist knocked me over?” he said in an uncertain tone, swallowing. “I feel a bit dizzy.”

“Well, you’ve had a shock. Here, let me help you up.” I gracefully rose from my place beside him and extended my hand, I didn’t want to draw this out for longer than I had to. He grasped my hand with no consideration for our weight difference, probably a good job because I didn’t want him to take note of my considerable strength. I began brushing him down, I stifled a laugh, I felt like a mother inspecting her child before sending him off to school.

“I’d go home, sleep it off, and then see how you feel in the morning.” I advised. He nodded blinking rapidly, glancing around.

“Um, thanks.” He said before slowly ambling away.

I walked a few metres to sit down on a bench, I wanted to basque in the warmth of feeling full and satisfied, my head lolling back, eyes half open, smiling. My whole body jerked, every muscle in my body became tense, I realised I had automatically positioned myself on the pathway in front of the bench in a crouched, attack position.

I shook it off, swishing back into the tree line where I’d come from, my blue and purple irises, alert, ready to see what it was that was creating the magnificent scent. I breathed it in as deeply as I could, closing my eyes, I couldn’t help the smile that was on my face ‘What is that?’ I’d never smelt anything like it.

I focussed back on the path, I honed my vision on the delectable source of the scent. He was just a man. How could a mere mortal smell so divine?

His shoes gently tapped across the concrete path, to me though each gentle footstep was magnified into great big booms, I was so focused on him.

Suddenly, he stopped, his eyebrows squishing together, creasing his perfect olive skin. My nails dug into the bark, scarring the wood deeply.

I heard and felt him sniff the air just as I had, still was, like a cocaine addict simply unable to stop filling my nose. He shrugged and continued his liquid movements down the path past my hiding place.