Join Me in Eternity.

The sun streamed through the slit in between the curtains. Every bit as welcoming as the last time I saw it. Visions played in the back of my mind. Things from long ago I'd tried to forget. And then a familiar face. That of which belonging to the arm's I'm currently being held in.

"You guys have been asked by myself as well as all of the managers present tonight on multiple occasions, to please quiet down. I'm sorry, but we're going to have to ask you to please leave."
Drunken groups of men were a frequent sight, but none were as loud, rude, and provocative as this group.
The head drunkard looked up at me with foggy eyes, "And if we don't, Little Lady?"
I sighed, angry with the day-to-day low-life's, "Sir, if you don't I'm obligated to call the authorities, and you'll be removed by force."
He smirked to his fellow drunken followers, "Look," His hand began snaking its way around my waist.
I shook him off disgusted, "Keep your filthy hands off of me."
He tried once more, going for my thigh this time, stronger and with more force.
"Get your Goddamn hands off of me, and leave." I shoved at him, but he wouldn't move.
A strong, firm hand landed on the drunk's wrist. I'd seen him around a lot, but never once had an encounter with him. I knew him as Damon, by word of mouth and countless girls he had taken home.
"Whattaya want, Pretty Boy?" The drunk's words slurred and he nearly spun out of his stool.
"I want you to leave her alone, and get out." Damon showed emotion in his eyebrows; unbelievably charming.
"Yeah? Whattayagonnado?" The drunk's speech slurred, and overlapped itself so much, it hardly even sounded like a word, much less a sentence. He then stood up, face to face with Damon, "What?"
Damon stood straight, threatening, "I'll make sure you never come back."
"Y' couldn't do a damned thing, Boy." The drunk stood his ground too, albeit, sloppy.
"I have the ability to break you. Now leave."
The drunk backed down, a blank expression on his face, "I'll leave," he murmured. I imagine his breath rancid. He and his fellow drunks left through the door leading to the alley.
I turned to Damon to thank him, but he was gone. I looked this way and that, but I couldn't find him, not a trace. Even though it was late and fairly empty.
As I stood, feeling stupid, looking for someone no longer present, my manager approached me, "Hey, I saw what happened. Wait a while, make sure they're gone, and go home early."
I nodded, but still searched the bar.
After almost an hour, I exited through the front doors. My car at the end of the parking lot. It was dark and smoggy outside. As expected.
It happened too fast for me to comprehend. But they came from the alley and surrounded me. Pushing me, touching me, taunting me, attacking me.
Just as suddenly as they'd surrounded me, blood and screams were ripping through the night, right there in the open, in the parking lot.
I felt no pain, not sure if I was dead or numb.
Turns out, I wasn't dead or numb. Damon had attacked them. A silhouette struggle. Heads were turned at impossible angles. And Damon was crouched over the main drunk, almost as if a wild animal feeds upon its prey.
The snapping of bones and the stench of blood were things an ordinary person couldn't forget. How had I?

I stood in front of the window, looking out to the unfamiliar world I was in. Pale arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me closer to that of which the body they belonged. Breath on my neck. Hair tickling the side of my face.
"It was you." I spoke softly.
"Hmm," Damon's morning groan made me feel weak.
"Five years ago, at the bar. It was you."
"After I compelled you, it took me five years to get you to talk to me again."
"Umm, thank you for that."
Damon said nothing, and inhaled deeply. Taking in my scent, and moving my hair to one said of my neck. "It's my job to protect you." He whispered sweetly.