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No cars, no passersby, no witness. He knew she would come and prepared her final moments in advance. Silence fell at eight o'clock in the evening deeper than any midnight.
The eminence of true death made her heart beat like it once did centuries ago. In one hand, he held the blowtorch that would end her life, she was acquainted with those flames. Maybe it was time to end her meaningless existence, years of indolence, completely alone wandering from place to place had given her a sobriety seldom showed to anyone else, why should she when she could be anyone else? Right now, many knew her as Marta, but the next day she could be Raimunda, whom she would never have to explain how she had her house incinerated to the ground. The last person on this damned country that knew her, murdered, just as she was supposed to that day. Her murder-to-be had a fixation on burning the eyes until there was nothing left in the socket and then slowly incapacitating his victim, the expression on his face told the same story she saw that day, but, this time, he would make sure that she stayed dead.
Was she really ready to accept it just like that? "Die as the mediocre thing that you are". He should had let her have the last word, but instead he went and made her feel mischievous, her who loved pushing people's button.
Before he could register the culprit for his world going dark, she ran to the shadows that she knew so well, that hided her in her best and worst moments. She could feel heat and danger behind her, the grip of death had not left her. There were a few houses nearby, were there people? Were they his allies? Were they human? Crouching nearby the first house, she studied her possibilities, there was no way she would be able to leave the area tonight, he made sure of that, she needed a place to sleep when the sun comes, and the longer it took, the bigger her chances of dying were. The first and second house both had sounds coming from them, but the third was silent. Under the waning moon, she picked the window and made her way silently into a living room.
With care, she made her way through the furniture, fingers feeling the surface. How did she fall so low? Almost dying constantly, surrounded by beings that did not want her around, tied to an organization she had always avoided. "Out of love", a sick voice interrupted her thoughts, clouded her judgment, justified the unreasonable, it told her how she had found true love, something so rare among vampires, her love took her to his own refuge, anything should be done for her love. If he knew what she had done... she chuckled under her breath. From one of the front rooms, there was a stair leading to an upper floor, at the top a locked door. Her mind continued to wander as she picked the lock, imagining her beloved and her in the frigid Argentina, just killing time, something he would never do, since he didn't share any of her likings. He kept her there, when she would have long moved, he made her involved, when she would rather be carefree. "But you love him" and it seemed that it was all the voice needed to say.
The attic was slightly dusty, left with only the basic to distinguish each room. Inside a big bedroom, there was a mirror, which she used to look at her sorry state, the white veil and dress were stained with dirt and ripped at the rims, her left shoe buckle had broke. Her hopes of finding herself a new set of clothes were frustrated, the closet had only blankets and an old chest. Not losing anymore time, she barricaded doors and windows, a makeshift refuge to hide from the sun and the group of beings that wanted her dead for good. Instead of choosing the bed, she made space for herself inside the huge chest, using some of the blankets to obstruct the lid, and there she stayed for two night.
On the third night, she couldn't open the lid and there were voices outside. Had they found her? But why was she still alive? The next course of actions made her think differently, she was hoisted, thrown against other objects, her conclusion was: it was a new form of torture. Knowing that her barriers to counter the sun were reduced to the chest and a blanket around her made her nervous, there was no way to know what the outside was like anymore. There was nothing she could do that night.
The next evening, she waited for a while, there was no hoisting, but there were quiet whispers in a language she couldn't understand. Her mind weighted the consequences of what she would do next, but what was one more stupid choice in her life? The whispers suddenly stopped, when loud bangs echoed. Whoever was outside took their time to approach and even more time to do anything.
"Hello?". They sounded unsure and afraid.
"Please, let me out of here", she pleaded, putting on her best pitiful voice, "I don't know how I got here. I'm scared".
It was enough. Soon, they gathered and pulled her out. After faking being shaken and telling the story of a poor bride-to-be that was sedated and brought here, she hear their story. They were a family of five, their dreams of dignified work was frustrated and so they illegally were trying to get back. She was taken aback with how well they treated her, offering whatever little food or water they had - not knowing that, for her, they were food. - and sharing information on where they were: a cargo ship, that would take a few months to get to its destination. There was no turning back, no running back to her love, in a way, just like the family, she was going to the home she abandoned, but had no intention of ever returning.
What a lovely surprise she would make.