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With a Gothic Manor

‘Is it sunrise already?’ I asked myself, glancing to the horizon and shaking my head. ‘And I haven’t even found the damn grave yet…I mean, seriously, how hard was it to find one undead boy in a freakin’ grave yard? And I’m doing all of this…why?’ I sighed again as the voice in the back of my head replied, ‘Duh. You’re doing it because he’s a snake and you want everyone to know what you know. That he in fact is a vampire.’ “Thank you, Anti-conscience.” I said aloud. The past two nights have been gruesome searching for a grave. My room-mate is pissed because she doesn’t know where I’ve been, my parents are pissed because my grades suck, and I’m pissed because of how rich and snooty Aleksei Belikov is. But, there is one thing my roommate agrees with me on—something’s up with the Belikov’s.
Walking quickly down the road that led away from the graveyard, my head began its argument with itself, again. For two days it’s been doing this.
My sweet side: “Why must we do this? He’s so handsome, and really is a doll when we aren’t being irritating.”
The, uh, not so sweet side: “Dude, our friends love us because we are the Anti-Relaxation for them. He needs to get over himself!”
‘S.S ‘: “But, seriously. There’s no need to be so…obsessed with him. Maybe we could just catch him alone in a hallway?”
‘N.S.S.S ‘: “Oh yeah. Hey Al, are you a Vampire? You better tell me, or I’ll make sure to bring Gaaahhhlic tomorrow.”
I sighed again, and walked up to my door-step. Living a few blocks from the city’s local cemetery was a great advantage when grave-searching. I dug blindly into my purse in search of my keys. Trinity wouldn’t be home tonight. She has Study-night-sleep-over things that she does with her other buddies on Tuesday. I, after 3 minutes and a paper cut, found my keys and sleepily opened the door. Entering the dark apartment, I sighed peacefully.
“All I need is a relaxing shower and to clamber into bed. Then tomorrow, I’ll go to school and will do all I can to avoid everyone I can.” This was very frequently my motto, used more when I’m dead tired or agitated, for the sake of everyone around me.
The sound of cool water hitting the porcelain floor was oddly soothing to me. Trinity’s wealthy parents spared no expense in finding her a suitable apartment. I quickly undressed and hopped into the shower. I sat in there for a good 25 minutes, keeping the water at a nice Luke-warm temperature. I turned on the shower radio and set the frequency to C.D player. Maroon 5 gently yet passionately flowed out of the speakers. Automatically, I started to shampoo my hair.
“How dare you say that my behavior is unacceptable, so condescending unnecessarily critical, I have the tendency of getting very physical, so watch your step cause if I do you’ll need a miracle…” Singing in the shower was a practice that frequently occurred while I was in the shower. Being in choir and having a soon-to-be band also helped…I laughed. I loved the next set of lyrics. They were my favorite to sing, because in the song, they sound so raunchy, but the actually lyrics were hysterical.
“You drain me dry make me wonder why I’m even here, this double vision I was seeing is finally clear, you want to stay but you know very well I want you gone, not fit to Funkin’ tread the ground that I am walking on!” I flipped my light blonde hair side to side, flinging droplets of water everywhere. Then, some strange things began to happen.
There was a strange Click! that occurred outside the door. Being near the living room, I automatically began to rationalize the situation. ‘Trinity just came home early. A fight amongst the sisters, I guess.’ I stopped the water, not from the noise, but from the fact I had been in there for so long. I wrapped my hair in a towel turban style, and then wrapped a towel around the rest of my body. I washed my face quickly, brushed my teeth, and then checked the clock that sat on the counter.
“HO-LY COW,” I said aloud, “It’s 3 o’ clock!” I opened the door and walked down the short hallway to my room, but noticed something really strange. The front door was opened. I looked around, and hurried into my room. I dug under my pillow, looking for my gun or my knife --Having a Police Officer for a grandfather and all, I’m surprised that I couldn’t find my Tazer--Then, I finally found my gun. Feeling risqué, I stuffed the gun in between my breasts and the towel, and hoped that it would conceal it slightly. I walked into the front room, and glanced around...