You Jump, I Jump. Right?
Chapter 1
They say in situations when you're life is in danger, you either fight or flight.
What would you choose to do? I was running.
I was running from my past, from my memories. From the pain and the hurt. From the lies and the deceit.
But most of all I was running from him. John Moore.
My vampire speed took me from Monterrey, Mexico to Portland, Oregon in a matter of days. I wasn't really planning on where I was going. I was just running away.
The more I travelled up north the wetter and damper the atmosphere seemed to get.
I snacked on a couple of humans on the way; I needed to be strong in case I was attacked.
I passed a puddle and for the first time in what seemed like years I saw my reflection.
My long blonde hair housed twigs and leaves, my burgundy red eyes were slowly fading to black. I wore simple joggers and a bra as my top had been ripped off in my attempt to escape.
I didn’t know a lot about myself. Just that my name was Evelyn Whitlock. I had been alive—metaphorically speaking—for 149 years. My father deserted me when I was young, and my mother didn’t want me.
Whilst my ears were listening to approaching footsteps my mind was racing through my past.
This was probably why I didn’t hear them drawing nearer until it was too late.
What would you choose to do? I was running.
I was running from my past, from my memories. From the pain and the hurt. From the lies and the deceit.
But most of all I was running from him. John Moore.
My vampire speed took me from Monterrey, Mexico to Portland, Oregon in a matter of days. I wasn't really planning on where I was going. I was just running away.
The more I travelled up north the wetter and damper the atmosphere seemed to get.
I snacked on a couple of humans on the way; I needed to be strong in case I was attacked.
I passed a puddle and for the first time in what seemed like years I saw my reflection.
My long blonde hair housed twigs and leaves, my burgundy red eyes were slowly fading to black. I wore simple joggers and a bra as my top had been ripped off in my attempt to escape.
I didn’t know a lot about myself. Just that my name was Evelyn Whitlock. I had been alive—metaphorically speaking—for 149 years. My father deserted me when I was young, and my mother didn’t want me.
Whilst my ears were listening to approaching footsteps my mind was racing through my past.
This was probably why I didn’t hear them drawing nearer until it was too late.