Lovisa Jiae; Vampire Hunter

Slowly going to be re-uploading this a chapter a week, as I'm editing it.
A story about an Atheist daughter of two extreme Christians, and what would happen if the real, old-school vampires returned. Violence in later chapters.


2. Get Me Out Of Here


I yawned again, staring out over the rolling hills of the daunting British countryside, a sight I was only too used to looking at. My foot tapped impatiently on the ice cold floor as I glanced at my watch for the third time in the last minute, waiting for the final bell to go. It was the last day of term. All I wanted to do was grab my suitcase, meet Tania and walk out into the sun. I wanted to go home. It had been three months since I had left the grounds of OLMA, and the only productive thing I had done was befriend the new librarian, Sister Weirs. I was becoming stir-crazy.

‘Miss Jiay?’ Sister Jones pronounced my name incorrectly for the fifth time this lesson. ‘Can you tell us the names of Our Lord’s disciples?’

It’s pronounced ‘Jay’ I thought frustratedly, but I didn’t have the energy to correct her again, so, glancing at my watch once more, I heaved myself out of my chair and said, ever so politely; ‘No.’

Smirking at the furious look on her face, I reached under my desk and pulled out my bag, lifting it over my shoulder just as the bell went. I was the first out of the door.

‘I’ll see you after the summer, Sister!’ I laughed, and as the blur of Sister Jones’ white uniform yelled something after me, my response was more chiming giggles. I stumbled through hoards of students in their grey uniforms, nuns in their white clothes and parents standing anxiously. My leg came into contact with a heavy suitcase and I tripped, hitting the floor before I could thrust my hands out and stop it from happening.

Unf!’ I breathed out before pushing myself up and dusting my clothes down, staring daggers at the skinny first year who was staring at me. I looked around at everyone before pulling my bag over my shoulder, undoing my top button and sauntering off.


Tania was leaning against a block of lockers with a group of boys, which is usually punishable by detention or worse. Luckily, it was officially the end of term, and we were untouchable. Her brown hair was tied up in messy bunches, purple streaks visible among the tangled mass. Aggressively, I barged through the wall of testosterone and grabbed onto Tania’s arm, ignoring the multiple protests. As soon as we were round the corner I stopped, grinned and hugged her.

‘Wow. Someone’s keen to get home,’ Tania remarked in her smooth American accent. ‘I never thought I’d see you so keen to see your family.’

‘Not at all. I’m just keen to get the Hell out of here.’

‘I see,’ she replied, hitting me lightly on the shoulder. ‘Let me just find Luca, then we’ll grab our bags and leave. It’s a long walk.’

Luca was Tania’s twin brother. They did everything together, apart from when we were in school, because they kept boys and girls separate as often as possible. It was a distraction to have boys in the same building as girls, apparently. I wasn’t as close with Luca as I was with Tania, but I still knew him well. He was a medium height blonde boy with deep blue eyes who had an unhealthy obsession with comic books and playing the guitar.

Tania and I chatted mindlessly as were walking in the direction of Luca’s dorm, only briefly stopping outside the main girl’s room to pick up our suitcases (mine was black with white floral patterns, Tania’s was purple to match her hair). Then we were approached by an alarmingly tall girl, who asked us where the exit was. I knew immediately that she was a first year, inexperienced in the art of sneaking out of the surprisingly open gate. Tania pointed her towards the large oak door with multiple locks installed, and she left without a thank-you. Damn Christians.


We met Luca by the boy’s dorm, where he was leaning against the wall with his newly un-confiscated blue headphones buried deep within his ear holes. His face was obscured by his fluffy blond locks, and his suitcase was beside him; the same deep blue as his irises. He greeted us gleefully, and followed as Tania and I crept through the back entrance, to avoid the ‘heartfelt’ farewells of the white-clad Sisters.

‘So Luca, how was your final day of torture?’ Tania asked in a feeble attempt to get through to her brother, and failed miserably when he continued focusing intently on the path ahead of him. ‘We won’t be hearing from him in a hurry.’

‘Is that bad?’ I replied with a smirk. Luca never really had much to say in the form of a decent reply when he was anywhere near school. He was usually more talkative at home. ‘How was your last day of torture?’

‘Not too bad, to be perfectly honest with you,’ she shrugged, and then creased up at my impression of Sister Joy’s shocked face, which most likely resembled that of a prune. ‘I’m being serious! I didn’t have Religious Studies today, which was good, I had my last detention, which allowed me to miss my Maths lesson, and the only lesson I had today was Music. I mean, yes, we’re singing hymns, but it was singing, all the same.’

I nodded. Tania wanted to sing when she was older, and she often used it as a fundraising angle when she was raising money for her parent’s charity. I could tell when her eyes lit up whilst talking about music, vocal training during the holidays, or just singing at an embarrassing volume in the middle of the dorms. She once got detention for singing in English, but her ever-angelic face managed to convince Sister Jones otherwise.

‘Well. Religious Studies was ridiculous, as usual. Maths was just full of rubbish, in which I drew ‘scary’ things on my book, and the only decent lesson was English because I got a Pass card after I told Sister Rose that I was going to be sick,’ I sighed. Sister Rose was terrified of people being sick, although the reason has remained unknown since my brother had been at OLMA, which was around five years ago.

‘What sort of scary things?’ Tania’s question was falsely concerned, and extremely humorous.

‘You know. The usual.’

‘That usual? You mean the stuff you’ve seen in Rosa’s journal?’

‘Yes, that stuff. She ended up taking my pen away, which I found quite silly… Oh well, at least we’re leaving now.

There was silence for five minutes. I stopped walking to take in the view, Tania halting beside me.

The sky was a clear turquoise, and the sun was just a huge ball of fire reflecting on the white shells hammered into the ground by horses. The last of the OLMA students were walking down the hill in front of us, small dots against the white of the path. The sky met the steep hills in the horizon, and they seemed to move as I shifted my school bag higher up on my shoulders.  Trees in the distance waved lazily, beckoning, leaves rippling brightly. It was a calm summer’s day, an ideal day to end the torture with. It was a perfect sight.

‘Freedom,’ Luca breathed my exact thought, his first word since we met him inside the hauntingly magnificent building towering behind us.

That one word set me off. I ran, suitcase flailing behind me. Tania giggled and followed me, Luca slowly catching us up before I leapt and landed in the knee length grass, which was dotted with vibrant poppies. It was probably a sight to see; three sixteen-year-olds rolling around in the grass, throwing poppy seeds at each other, and shouting so loud you could probably have heard it from the city. We didn’t care at all. I couldn’t remember feeling like that for a long time. This, the feeling building up inside us and overtaking the annoyance towards the school growing smaller behind us, was true freedom.




The door of my childhood home opened smoothly, revealing the ever-perfect living room in all of its paint-pot-like glory. The pastel yellows and lilacs made me feel physically sick, as they always had. Curtains hung limply by the window that looked out into the poorly maintained garden, steamed and washed within an inch of their existence. The cheap air freshener my mother always sprayed into the air hung in a powdery effort to make me choke, and I coughed to rid my lungs of the ridiculous lavender smell. In fact, the whole house reminded me of a lavender bush, with its smells and the noises of bees buzzing around outside the windows.

I disliked my parents. It didn’t feel natural to have such feelings towards them, but I couldn’t help myself. It was partly because of the Christianity they had taught me as a child (which wasn’t the simple things you would teach a child at the age of five), the constant comparisons between my brother, Jamie, and I, and the way they treated my atheist grandmother, Rosa, that made me dislike them so much. The disrespect my mother had for her mother disgusted me, and reduced the respect I had for her by a large amount. I was always close to Rosa because of how her atheist views had influenced me as a child, and it had upset me when I was stopped from seeing her for a year. I didn’t necessarily enjoy rebelling against them, but it seemed like the quickest way to get back at them for shoving religion down my throat when I didn’t want it. My parents were the neatest Christians I’d ever known. I had always been rebellious, ignoring the instructions to tidy my room or clean the bathroom. I sighed, shaking my head at the memories of how disrespectful I was, and dumped my suitcase on the sofa, snatching the folded handwritten note off the coffee table. It was written on lilac paper, with floral patterns framing the familiar, slanted scrawl of my mother’s rushed penmanship.


Your father and I will be at work until late this evening, as we have to work extra hours to help keep the money rolling in. It’s been a bit hard recently to make ends meet, hopefully we’ll be able to spend some time together whilst you’re out of school. I hope you enjoyed this term at school, and you finally discovered the right way to live life.

God bless you,




I rejoiced silently inside, grinning as I skulked past my brother’s old room and into the kitchen, looking for something I could indulge, something luxurious that would make this day perfect. No parents, no more school, and no brother in sight. 

Well, to be fair, my brother hadn’t been at home for four years, since he left to go to university, majoring in Physics. He’d always wanted to be a scientist, and I was proud of him for following his dreams.

Obviously, there wasn’t anything in the fridge besides fruit, vegetables and a chicken breast, but I managed to find some low-fat cherry yoghurt, which was the next best thing. I left it on the kitchen side whilst I wandered around the house, towards my bedroom door.


The door still had stickers of giant white horses and other animals, and there were huge wooden capital letters spelling out my name: ‘LOVISA’


I shook my head and tugged violently on the vibrantly coloured wooden shapes until they gave way, leaving clean marks that showed how dirty the door really was. I tossed them aside and shoved open the door, regretting it immediately. I hadn’t been in my bedroom since I’d left for OLMA six months before, where my character had changed dramatically. I wasn’t the young, not-so-perfect daughter of two Christians anymore. I had changed since they had started shoving religious ideas down my throat. It was sickening to be taught, every single day, about how a man had risked his life to save us.


My room was small and messy. It suddenly occurred to me how my parents hadn’t thought to tidy it, for which I was extremely grateful. The single bed remained unmade, purple cover twisted in an awkward shape because I was such an active sleeper. The curtains clashed with the duvet on my bed; a faded orange colour that made it look like there was a sunset all day if you kept them closed. There were posters pinned randomly across the pastel walls; singers and animals blu-tacked, dreadfully, in an immature attempt of a collage. The edges were curled and frayed, and flapped against the wall noisily, which made me realise that there was a window open. As I moved over to close it, I tripped, and heard a crunch noise. Looking down, there was a small photo frame. If I squinted, I could see through the cracked glass. I recognized the outline of Tania and I, last year, a few months after we first met. It bought tears to my eyes as I remembered that day. It was the day that had turned my life around for the foreseeable future.

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