June 1, 1952 - Rampur

     With her face buried in my chest, Kate paints my shirt with her tears. I hold her against me whispering sweet assurance in her ear and stroking her hair with my hand softly. The night had started off as a simple surprise for her latest boyfriend but it soured quickly when she found him in bed and not alone. The thing about vampires is, we tend to overreact, probably because nobody can really stop us when we do.

     One phone call to me and her problem was solved. It did take longer than I intended but only because I didn’t want to end his pain and so now due to the fleeting darkness, we are obligated to spend the day lying in some neighbor’s crawl space, listening to the sounds of a real life above us. I hold her as the blood on my hands blends with the dirt, making a sticky paste on my fingers, because holding her is what she needs me to do.