The Vampire's Moon

I didn't bother saying hello to my foster parents when I got home; frankly, they don't care if I come home at all. The house is a one story building with two bedrooms, a kitchen, living room, and I was lucky enough to get my own bathroom. I headed to my room the second I entered the house, laying my bag on the floor next to my bed. Almost the whole room is midnight blue, even the pillows and comforter. The carpet and the drapes over the windows are the only things in the room that are black. I don't like sunlight getting into the room unless I'm reading. When I'm writing though, the less sunlight, the better. I've always been weird that way.
I put my notebook on the desk in the corner, and lay on the bed, which is up against the window. Often I would lay on my stomach with a book, leaving the window open so I could read by moonlight. Sometimes I would just lay at the head of the bed and stare out the window at the stars, not bothering to sleep. If I loved anything, it would be my room, the stars, and the moon. I could stay here forever and never leave. I had wanted to write the rest of that story now, but Benjamin and Ricky had put me in a bad mood. I'd lost the urge to. Instead, I turned on the television.
After browsing for a bit I saw a special about a girl whose parents had died when she was young. I grinned, the girl's name was Savanah Nicks. They had done a good job, they didn't show my picture or a even a drawing of me. They had even used my middle name and a fake last name. My full name is Michelle Savanah Nicksons. When they had first wanted to make a special about me I had refused, but I eventually gave in when they promised not to use my name or show me on camera. I didn't want people knowing about those tragic times, then I'd get treated with pity and sympathy. I hate pity and sympathy; mainly because the people who dish it out just don’t understand. They've never had to watch as first their mother, then their father was killed in front of their eyes. If they did truly understand, I wouldn’t mind as much. But they don’t. I turned off the television.
I sighed, I never should have let those guys see my bites, they were probably going to pity me now. (Not to mention the fact that I just gave out one of my biggest secrets, one that I’d been trying to keep from everyone; can’t forget that, I reminded myself.) That or they'd never leave me alone. I didn't even know if they were immortal! Good thing I'm not immortal.
At least, I wasn't yet. I aged, just like everyone else. The day I lost my virginity, however, that would no longer be true. Then again, I never planned on giving it up.
I rolled over and stuffed my head in a pillow. It was all too confusing. The only event I had to look forward to was the full moon, which was tomorrow night. That was the only time I allowed myself to change into a werewolf, no matter how much I hate what I am. I do it in memory of my father. While other werewolves have to change during a full moon, I don't. I'm not forced to, I choose to.
To tell you the truth, I didn't hate changing as much as I told myself I did. I love running in the woods in my wolf form, the moonlight shining on my fur. I wasn't the only werewolf around now though, so I would have to be careful. I would just go to my favorite spot in the woods, no one would find me there. This place was in the very center of the woods, a long ways into it.
I smiled. I would have a moonlight picnic. With that thought in mind, I got up and walked to the desk, suddenly cheered. My favorite event was coming up and I was going to enjoy it. I was so happy, I even allowed my fangs to come out. I felt their sharp points carefully with my finger. My fangs are one and one-fourth inches long, with very sharp points. My mother had once told me that the longer the fangs on the vampire, the more powerful the vampire is. How long would they be when I had all my powers?
With that memory came the memory of the vampire that had killed my mother. Her fangs were only half an inch long, and the vampire who killed her had three-fourths of an inch long fangs. He had been a powerful vampire, but he hadn't been powerful enough to kill me. At the time I had been only ten, and my fangs were as long as his. If not for the fact that I was powerful even young, I probably would have died that night. Since then my fangs had grown half an inch, and I am even more powerful. That was the only explanation I had, that I'd been powerful even without my powers, no matter how odd it sounds. The only other possibility is that he let me go, which didn't make sense.
Werewolves measure power differently than vampires, they measure with size. The bigger you are in wolf form, the more powerful you are. I am huge in wolf form. While the average werewolf is only five feet in length from nose to tail, I am ten feet. That was the last time I'd measured, and that had been last full moon. I would have to measure myself again tomorrow. The werewolf that had killed my father had been seven feet long, and my father had only been five. I had been in human form when I first tried to fight it off, but I had gotten bitten for that. So, I had allowed myself to change to my full nine foot wolf form and had killed the werewolf that killed my father. I am a powerful werewolf.
The fact that I am extremely powerful for both of my kinds, even with normal powers untapped and leaving as weak as any human, does not surprise me; I am a mixed breed, with special powers of my own. The only of my kind. I believe I am powerful because I am a combination of the two races, and the mixture gives me powers that no one else has. Change whenever I wish, even during a full moon? I can do it. Night vision and superior eyesight, I have both. The eyesight is from the werewolves and vampires; the night vision just from the vampires. They gave me my powers, the likes of which no one else has. My reflexes are unparalleled, and my senses are tuned to a level none else has. I can sense when another of the races is near, so I can not be snuck up on. My powers are great, and I do not use them. I was given these powers by the very things I hate, and I cannot give them back. No matter how much I want to.
I opened my notebook and finished the story. The urge was not satisfied, so I finished another. When the urge was still not satisfied I began a whole new story. I didn't know what I would write at first, but the words just seemed to flow through me. I was shocked by the time I stopped, hours later. I had begun a love story. The story of one girl who falls in love with a vampire. She doesn't realize she loves him, nor does he realize his feelings for her. I had written all the way up to the part where they finally realize they do love each other, the part that would invariably be just before the climax.
I stared at the page in disgust. Fall in love with a vampire? It could happen, but it would only end in disappointment. So far it appeared that this book was going to have a happy ending, the vampire and the girl together for all eternity. That had never happened before in my books, so why did it appear now?
I walked over and lay on the bed, looking up into the now dark sky at the moon. I sighed, I knew why. My soul had decided now was a good time to reveal what it longed for. Believe it or not I am a person too, and I long for love. I doubted I would ever find it, though. Who would love me, a scarred werewolf/vampire?
Just before drifting away into sleep, I caught one last glimpse of the moon. I thought I saw her face for a second, and it was enough to open up a spot in my chest that is still hollow with pain. I would never admit this, but I still feel the pain of my parent's deaths like a fresh wound. One of the few things a vampire's self-healing could never hope to heal. A single tear managed to roll it's way down my cheek before I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.