I walked in to the beautiful room, but the thing that made it beautiful was the teenage boy that was standing in the middle of it. He was fair haired and had golden eyes – the eyes of an angel – his angular cheekbones made his face look strong. He held out a hand to me as if he were waiting for me. The thought of me dancing with an angel was like a dream. As we twirled round and round the room I caught glimpses of where we were. The place itself was beautiful. It was gold and looked very old, but it was like a place taken from heaven and put onto the earth. As I took my eyes away from the building and looked at the boy I was dancing with everything changed. Suddenly his golden eyes had turned blood red, and he bit into the side of my neck. The pain that shot through me was unbearable, but I couldn’t make a sound come out of my mouth. As his eyes found mine I saw the sorrow in his eyes and the fangs in his bloodied mouth before he went back to my neck. The pain that had shot through me was now replaced by an odd sensation. It felt pleasant in an odd way. I could feel myself being drained of blood. The blackness was coming into the edges of my vision. “I love you, Holly.” He whispered. Then it all went black.

I woke up with a jerk. The sheets of my bed were clinging to my thighs from all the sweat. It was just a bad dream I keep telling myself over and over, but the memories keep coming back. I record the dream in my journal, knowing that this is the third night this week that I have had the dream. As always I can’t help but look in the mirror. Slowly, I pull back my long brown hair and look at my neck. The wound was opened, again.