Viorica paced around her room, having left the dining room when she couldn’t get the privacy that she so desperately wanted. She raked her hands through her hair and almost tore it out with anger at the thought of [i]him[/i]. He was the bane of her existence and he would be the death of her. Viorica threw herself into the plush red chair next to the fire. Restless, she sat up again and stripped from her ruined dress, standing in nothing but her silk slip. 

Suddenly, the large window slammed open and a bat flew in, smoothly transforming into a beautiful man. His platinum blond hair was slicked back with a single lock falling into his amber eyes and his strong, pale jaw clenched and unclenched. Viorica’s heart fluttered and thundered in her chest with fear and something else.

“Viorica…” He spoke, his voice satin in the thick air.

“Vladimir, it has been…awhile.” Viorica whispered, covering herself self-consciously.

“You are as beautiful as ever.”

“Stop – don’t flatter me, you vile, disgusting cre-.” Vladimir snarled, lunging and grasping her throat and chin with his strong hands.

“Don’t call me such names, not with the history we’ve had.” He seethed, his lips curling in dissatisfaction.

“You wouldn’t kill me, Vladimir. Like you said, not with the history we’ve had.” Despite her bravado, Viorica swallowed fearfully and averted her eyes from Vladimir’s golden ones.

It was silent until Vladimir swooped down and pressed his pale lips to Viorica’s red-smeared ones. It was a passionate kiss, searing and burning into their minds as they knew what was to become. This was the end of their tragic love story.

Pulling away, Vladimir rested his forehead against hers as he crushed her beneath his hand, her face crumbling under the pressure of his marble strength. In one last act of compassion, Vladimir impaled her neck with his fangs and headily sucked up her undead blood that poured from her veins, stolen blood that she herself had ingested an hour before. Vladimir always loved the taste of her skin, the suppleness of her flesh giving way to his ivory canines. Viorica fell slack, her eyes glassy and her life barely clinging to her dead body. Vladimir embraced her body, slowly lowering to the ground. He travelled to her closet and picked a dress that Viorica never had the guts to throw out; it was plain and blood-soaked – it was the dress she was turned in, something that held such sentimental value that she could never leave it no matter what. Vladimir elegantly slipped Viorica in it.

Viorica could feel the life drain from her neck and crushed face; to die so broken, like a shattered China doll, it was disgraceful, but at least Vladimir allowed her to keep her decency. Viorica let out a hollow chuckle as a dim thought crossed her mind: [i]at least she was going out with a bang…[/i]

“Please, don’t leave me here.” Viorica barely managed to say through her twisted lips. “I want to…be outside when I go instead of in this stuffy room.”

“Of course, Viorica.” Vladimir said lovingly, caressing Viorica’s face before lifting her into his arms and disappearing.

If anyone were to enter the room, all they would see would be her blood leading to the window and then nothing. There was no trace, no evidence of what had transpired, and Viorica’s heart faltered as she plummeted to the ground in her ex-lover’s arms, completely limp.

“I hope…my death won’t be pointless.” Her mere words seemed to break Vladimir’s icy exterior as he glanced down at her with his impenetrable golden orbs. 

“Your death is coming, my sweet, but not yet. I still have plans for you yet.”