Melanie was curled up in a ball on her bed in her small one bedroom apartment in New York City. She was trembling. She'd only been home less than a week, but the nightmares were recurring. They wouldn't stop, and she'd wake up drenched in sweat, screaming her head off. Tonight was no different. It was just past 10:30 that night, she had on a large black Panic At The Disco t-shirt, her blonde hair pulled up to a high bun. She had her chin rested on her bare knees, chewing on her lower lip. Blinking several times, her eyes red and raw from the crying and lack of sleep. She reached over and picked up her cell phone, checking for messages. She had one, from Deliah, her first cousin and one of Melanie's close friends.

She had left a voicemail, telling Melanie she needed to get out and come to Journey's, one of the hottest clubs in New York. She used her kidnapping as an excuse to get out and have some fun, get wild. Melanie sighed softly, considering Deliah's offer. Yes, it could take her mind off, just losing herself in shots and loud, invigorating music, hanging out and letting loose, but she was kidnapped in public, taken for an experiment, a study for a creature Melanie always knew as a myth- vampires. They didn't actually exist, did they? But, apparently they did. Her memories proved it. There was one other girl besides Melanie that was in the white, cold room, tied down to a table, an IV needle stuck in their arms. Melanie still had that bruise to prove it, too.

She found herself wondering about the girl, what was her name? They were the only two survivors left. No one else made it out of that building, so why were they spared? What was different about them? Sighing, Melanie decided to go out, so she sent a message to Deliah and told her before she got into the shower, washing the sweat off her body. After her shower, she dried her hair and left it alone. The natural blonde waves hanging down her back. She put on a red halter dress. It hugged at her curves and looked amazing with her skin tone and her blonde hair.

She put on black heels and make-up, topping it off with bright red lipstick. After looking herself over, she got into her silver Sedan and headed to Journey's, where after flashing her ID (though you could be over 18 to get in, just couldn't drink), she met up with Deliah, who was in a dark green and white strapless dress. Melanie took a couple shots with her cousin before following her out to the dance floor.

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Christopher watched the young female from a distance. He was hungry, extremely hungry and she smelled delicious, extremely delicious, and before he knew it Chris was holding the prostitute's lifeless body in his arms. They were in a deserted alleyway, rats rummaging through trash cans looking for food. Chris wiped the blood away from the corner of his mouth, gently laying down the woman's body near a trash can. Of course, Chris watched her to see if she did drugs, but she had no marks and for the three hours he kept his gaze on her, she hadn't done anything, either. He caressed the side of her face before apologizing and disappearing into the night, the darkness swallowing him up. He went to his apartment, it wasn't the nicest, but it was something. He showed, threw on a pair of dark khaki's and a black button down shirt. He left the top couple buttons undone, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

After raking a comb through his hair, he headed out. He was full from his meal. The time neared almost midnight, the streets of New York were alive with club goers and prostitutes looking for late night business, a couple drug deals were going down, but none of that interested Chris right now. He made his way to a local club, one he attended quite often. He made his way through the doors, inside was already pumping with life. Christopher could hear all the combined heartbeats and it almost excited him. So many people, so many different blood types, everyone tasted so differently. He loved it. Chris made his way to the bar, ordering a glass of bourbon.

"Christopher." The greeting came in the form of a males voice, not too far from him, a vampire who had been across the world in their long existence. He hadn't been to New York in the last century and had returned only a week ago to the scene, dressed in his punk rock look and boasting the talent to take on the wardrobe. Stubble on his jaw and the fringe of his hat shading his eyes to the majority of the people inside of the club. James leaned back against the bar counter, his elbows on the surface of the wood while he looked out over the crowd as they drank and danced in the most mortal and careless of abandons. He knew many of these humans would head home, drunk or high and few of them would leave alone though it wasn't them he had come here for anyway; unlike most vampires he found that alcohol helped sate his endless hunger for the mortal life source that many wasted and spilled. His own was kept in a small flask in his jacket, ready n case of an emergency as he learned not to leave bodies laying around for human police to find. He'd lived through the witch burning and the hunt for vampires; he survived for a reason.

He wasn't the type to pick his victims at random, blue eyes scanned the crowd while he stood stock still, watching the humans as they moved about in slow motion that would appear as high speed to them. He remembered why he had come to the city in one of his first rages; killing senselessly without feeding and tearing the corpses to bits before moving onto the next town after a woman had found him. She had been a vampire as well, older and stronger than her though she didn't look as if she planned to kill him, only help with his little ripper problem. "You've been killing again." The man observed without looking at the younger, blonde vampire. His eyes landed on a female in the crowd, blonde as the sun and she recognized her from a picture in the newspaper - both human and underground - and remembered her as one of the humans kidnapped by an underground Vampire Syndicate bent on making and selling more addicting blood slaves. He could smell her from across the room, tainted by alcohol and covered in sweat but after he blinked she smelled just like a regular human again to him as he turned his faze toward her friend. Humans were just food, but the best survivors and predators never ate in the open or left evidence of their feeding.

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The young woman sat alone in the large park, hidden up in a tree where she leaned against the tick truck and sat with one leg bent and the other hanging over the branch she rested on. A long black sweater covered her torso though she didn't have the hood up and let her long white hair hang loose around her shoulders. Red lips puckered around the joint between them, breathing in the light smoke and letting it settle before breathing it back out again. Drugs were easy to find in New York she found, since she'd moved here a week ago after being released in the city with a bag of clothes and an unlimited credit card she didn't have to pay for. She'd found a small apartment in the less formal part of the city and bunkered down where she'd hooked up the internet and a system around her small place to alert her if there was any chance of an attack again. She'd been asked if she thought vampires existed, and her answer had proved the reason she hadn't been killed that day and why she'd been released instead of having to find a way out like the other girl.

Thinking back she remembered looking at the blonde, sleeping on the bed she was chained to while her own cuffs were undone and the men escorted her out of the building in the middle of the night. Many had died during the experiments they had conducted upon them and she didn't know if the other girl was dead as well; all Rhaenys knew was that she was alive now and she would continue to survive while being hunted by vampires and haunted by nightmares. It was dark out, and well passed when she should have gone home but the small girl didn't care much for her own safety anymore now that she had been taken and changed in a way that shouldn't have been humanly possible, but whoever it was had given her th means to live away from her family and go to school without having to work for the money to support herself. And she was alive, so she must be important to some degree if they hadn't allowed her to be killed, or hadn't simply terminated her while she was there with them.

She shifted in the tree, the leg of her black jeans shifting as it caught on a short sharp edge of the branch and she stretched, dropping what was left of the join to the ground where it puttered out. As she stretched her sweater lifted to reveal a thin strip of pale white flesh, unmarked by scarring or bruising. Since coming here she had not been harmed once, though she couldn't help the scars on her arms and legs, the damage to her soul and the deep feeling of emptiness inside of herself. She leaned back against the tree and allowed the high to do it's job and lull away all of her worries.

Melanie let the music take over her body. It certainly helped with the mood she had been in lately. She was already buzzing off the drinks she downed. Deliah had found herself a man to grind on and probably go home with, so Melanie excuses herself and went to use the restroom. After doing her business and freshening up, she went back out to the club scene and pushed herself through the thronf of people go the back bar. Only a few people were sitting around. A middle aged couple huded close together, his hand running up her bare legg, another man with a pudgy waist drinking a bottle of Bud Light, eyes watching the hockey game playing on TV, and than two men in conversations. One really caught her eyes. He had dark hair and looked... mysterious. Tall, dark and brooding, and handsome. Very handsome.

She looked away and called the bartender over, a young dark curly haired woman with thin lips and full, pouty lips. She had in black high waist shorts and a tight white crop top. "What can I get ya, hun" She asked, a slight Australian accent in her voice. Melanie ordered a rum and coke and waited for her srknk, lightly sipping on it when it was served to her.

She looked back towards the dance floor. Deliah was still out there dancing and grinding to the music with the man she just met. No doubt about it, they'd be going home together for a passionate night. Sighing, she turned back to her drink.

Being alone sucked sometimes.

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Christopher looked up from his drink when greeyed by an old friend. "James." He said cooly. He finished up his drink and snorted at James' comment about him killing. "It's in our nature, old friend. I just like go stay in my vampiric roots, and you know human blood keeps us going, keeps us alive and strong." He said and patted James' shoulder. "The blond seems right up your alley. Until next time, friend." Chris said as he went to leave.

The club wasn't really the scene for Christopher. He left just as soon as he entered. None of the pumping blood appealed to him. He stuffed his hands in his pocket and decided to take a stroll through town, maybe go to the back for a serene and peaceful night. He began to walk, the moon shining high in the sky, casting a pale and illuminated light down on the world, or half the world anyways.

He was walking through the park when his kene sense of smell picked up something- was that... Marijuana? He slowly walked towards the scent and stopped by a large tree. By his left foot was a burnt out joint. He glanced up and could make a small frame through the tree branches, he moved so he could make the figure out better.

"Hey, what are you doing up there?" Chris called out, wondering who the person was. Her scent exhilarated him, it was.. Familiar, but forgein to him as well.