The Bank Under the Bridge

The legend of an immortal child, Jane, stuck in her form, never growing like the other kids or even the simple things that drive her mad like not getting bruises or scratches. Never being normal - forever. But there is a place where she can be herself, without anyone judging her, making fun of her, or telling her what to do-The Bank Under the Bridge. But what happens when her privacy in her special place is taken away from her? Find out in: The Bank Under the Bridge.

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2. Will He? Would He?

I awoke yet again, but this time, I was sweating as the fire of my thirst was all I could feel. My presence, surrounded by the ghosts of the people that died with me: A mother, with her two girls that fiddled with the bows in their hair, an elderly man-probably in his eighties-completing The Times crossword. I remembered them all. Then the screams began. The building around us crumbled to pieces and that's all I can remember. Then the silence returns as I rise from the hallucinations that were continuously haunting me. 

A broad figure lay beside me, not dead, but still unconscious. Two eyes, two ears, one nose, one tail... Four legs. A wolf lay beside me. With paws the size of my face, claws the size of my fingers engulfing what looked like a skull. I imagined, he could, he would tear out my eyes from their sockets if he needed to, he could, he would rip the hair from my head with incisors that I didn't want to confront. I thought of his teeth and the damage they could do as I carefully observed my wound. Could that have been him, the wolf that left such a small cut with such great pain. Then I thought, of the poem that I once enjoyed when I was merely an infant-still a human: 

The only damage that can be done,

To the form of the immortal one,

A slit of a vein in the arm,

Thus the only harm,

That will one day save you,

From The Beginning of the End

No wolf could ever slit a single vein of the arm, the only creature with such precision would be a human with a knife. But only two people in history know of that poem, thus only one human with the knowledge of how to kill us, and of course; one name comes to mind...

Will.

Would he? Ever decide to end my immortality by damaging me? He and I, we went way back: Best friends, but he always wanted something more, then enemies, the friends again. But I haven't seen him since, well, my death. As far as I know, everyone thought I was dead, until I was changed. What source could he have found of my existence as a vampire! I rose abruptly, ignoring the eyes that had now opened from the creature beside me, and ran. With my new legs, I ran.

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