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The heels of your boots hit loudly on the asphalt as you walk down the quiet, empty street. You never thought you'd be back here again after so many years away; it felt like a lifetime ago. You suppose it was, for some--and longer for others. You were certainly living a different life than you'd been back then; a different life, a different time, a different girl.
The 80s were a mess of pollution and politics. Of spending sprees under the looming fear of a war that's gone on for 40 years without ever really starting. Not like back then. When war was fresh and real; just like you had been when you had met them.
When you had met him.
Now as you walk down the dirty streets of Santa Carla once more, everything about you had changed. It wasn't just the clothes and the hair and the way you carried yourself. Your outlook had changed. Nearly 50 years of thinking will do that to a person. Living an ageless life surrounded by humanity obsessed with the superficial things, before they grow old and die with nothing to show for their miserable lives.
All alone.
So after almost a half century of thinking, you were back--back in the place where it all began.
--
1942 was a year of turmoil and change. The United States had officially joined another world war less than 30 years after the first one. Thanks to Pearl Harbor men were signing up to go fight in droves; that is those that hadn’t already been drafted. The ones left behind were surrounded by woman working hard to try and contribute something to the war effort. Committed to doing whatever they could to help.
Then there was you; not a solider, not an industry worker--just a runaway with big dreams trying to make a living. Santa Carla wasn't any more welcoming in 1942 than it would be in 1987; a haven for crime and gangsters with more mysterious disappearances than you could shake a stick at.
But it was home, at least for now. Having only made it that far before running out of money on your was to Los Angeles, you had no choice but to set up shop there until you could save enough money to get to Hollywood.
You got yourself a room in a local boarding house, and started working in a local club downtown. You wanted to be a movie star--the next Ginger Rogers, or Katherine Hepburn--but for now you would have to make due with being a torch singer entertaining the criminal underbelly of Santa Carla.
You hadn't been there long when you first met them.
Met him.
It was a packed Saturday night at the club when the four of them walked in. Dressed to the nines in the telltale pinstripes and Stetsons of the criminal class, they sauntered in like they owned the place. They were certainly younger than the rest of the clientele, most of the young men having been sent off to war. Still, their youth couldn't distract from the intimidating aura that seemed to surround them like a cloud. And really who were you to judge? Being young yourself--though obviously you lied about that fact to get this gig.
You stood on the stage as the boys made their way in, sitting at a table further back. You held the microphone in front of you and crooned through Frank Sinatra's All or Nothing at All as your body swayed to the music coming from the band behind you. Your slinky gold dress sparkled in the stage lights as you moved, lips red as blood as you sang with longing in every word.
Your attention was drawn to them instantly; handsome, and not at least twice your age like the rest of the creeps there. They were one of the only groups without girls around them; which either meant they were there for some shady business, or they were on the prowl for someone to take home. There were certainly plenty of unaccompanied girls there to choose from: some looking to snag a guy who could take care of them, others more of the ‘lady of the night‘ variety.
The newcomers were looking around, taking in the scene; attention waning from the other club-goers to the ladies standing by the bar. All except one. His icy blue eyes were fixed on you as you performed center stage. You sang and swayed, and he took in every motion like a lion stalking his prey. It was intimidating, being on the receiving end of such an intense gaze--as if there was no one in the world but the two of you.
Still, you had a job to do, and you continued to sing as your eyes finally drifted from the stranger with a stare like fire and ice.
You finish your set and head off the stage as the band picks up the pace with some jazzy swing tune. The dance floor picks up as the couples not already there head over to dance and move in time to the rhythm. You head to the bar, looking to quench your thirst with a drink of the alcoholic sort, when you see someone slide up next to you.
"Hey doll." He greets as he leans an elbow onto the bar. "That's quite the voice you got there.” You sized him up, martini class in hand. He was certainly handsome, and he wore that suit well. Still, no one reputable ever came to this side of town. You weren’t sure you wanted to get mixed up with a gangster--even one as good looking as this one.
“Glad you enjoyed the show.” You reply as you take a sip of your martini, wondering what his next move while be. He smiles, as disarming as it is dangerous.
“Yeah I did.” He says, taking his hat off and setting it down on the bar. He lights up a cigarette and takes a long drag. “So, you got a name?”
You debated lying to him, giving him some false name, or just simply refusing him outright. But despite the signs that this guy was trouble, you had to admit you were interested in knowing more about him. If nothing else it was nice getting attention from someone that was actually close to your age and not some sleazy old man looking for a good time.
“A gentlemen would introduce himself first, before asking a lady her name.” You say, taking another sip from your glass. He laughed, looking out at the crowd of dancers, before looking back at you.
“I ain’t no gentlemen, doll.” He says as he stares down at you. You stare back, prepared for a battle of wills. After another few seconds of staring into your eyes he laughs again, taking another drag of his cigarette and release the smoke out of the side of his mouth. “You’re gutsy, I’ll give you that.” He says before pausing. “David.” He finally surrenders. You smile.
“Y/N.” You reciprocate his simple introduction. He smirks.
“Well y/n, I ain’t seen you around before. What’s a sweet thing like you doing in a place like this?” He asks, gesturing for the bartender to pour you both another round.
“Who says I’m sweet?” You shoot back, toeing a dangerous line. He smirks.
“Watch it doll--keep talking like that and someone someday might actually believe you.” He says as he takes a swig of the whiskey the bartender’s just placed in front of him. You watch his Adam’s apple bob above his collar as he swallows the burning liquid, you yourself finishing off the last of your first drink just as the bartender brings you another. Again you think about lying, and again you choose to tell him the truth.
“I’m making my way south; Santa Carla is just a pit stop until I get enough cash to keep moving.” You answer honestly.
“South?” He repeats. “Ah, Hollywood. Let me guess--you wanna be in the pictures, right?”
“And if I do?” You ask.
“Well you got the face for, but are you sure you got the stomach? From what I hear those Hollywood types don’t exactly play nice with girls like you.” He says, ashing his cigarette in the ashtray on the bar. You frown.
“I’ll do what I have to.” You reply, though you can’t say it sounded too convincing. You took a drink from you second martini, the alcohol already buzzing in your veins from the first.
“Big words.” He frowns. “But can you back them up?” You shoot him a scowl, and he smiles back. “Alright doll, no need to get nasty--just something to think about, that’s all.”
The music dipped into a slower rhythm, and couples began scooting closer as they slowly swayed together with the music. David smiles at you as he extents a hand.
“What do ya say? Wanna dance?” You look down at his outstretched hand. You didn’t take him as much of a dancer; then again you supposed sly men like him probably needed a whole arsenal of weapons if they were looking to get what they wanted.
You place your gloved hand in his and he leads you out onto the dance floor. His arms smoothly slides around your waist as he lifts your hand up, leading as the two of you move in time.
“You know, I’ve been thinking.” He says before spinning you around.
“About?” You ask.
“I think this town suits you.” He replies. You laugh in spite of yourself.
“Santa Carla suits me?” You repeat.
“Yeah: the sea air, this club,” He dips you low. “Me.” He lifts you back up, your faces closer than before as you look into each other’s eyes.
“I can find sleazy clubs and the sea all over California,” You say, “As for you: I’d say you seem like the kind of man that brings nothing but trouble--I can find that anyplace too.” He smirks.
“Oh doll, you ain’t gonna find another like me.” He leans closer, whispering in your ear. “I guarantee it.” A shiver runs down your spine as you look at him. Despite troublesome men being a dime a dozen, you were inclined to believe him. You had certainly never run into anyone like him before.
“I bet you say that to all the girls.” You reply with a smile.
“None of the others ever make it this far.” He says, though you weren’t quite sure what he meant by it. “You’re different. Special.” You laugh.
“I’ve heard that before.” You say, still smiling.
“Then let me show you.” He says as the song stops, the band slipping into another upbeat jazz tune. “Let me take you out tomorrow night.” You knew he was nothing but trouble--you could feel it--but your heart got the better of you.
“Alright. Tomorrow night then.”
--
You had been so young, so naive. Letting him talk his way into your heart like that. I foolish child who thought she knew a thing about men. About love. When in reality she was messing with things she could never understand--not until it was too late.
--
True to his word David took you out the next night. It was a night of dancing and drinking, and David was just as cool and alluring as he’d been the night before. You briefly met his friends; they were some colorful characters to say the least, but they seemed alright. They listened to David like he was in charge, and you had to wonder if they were in some kind of gang. You thought at the time you should be more worried about that.
As if there weren’t worse things to worry about.
Things were always more complicated than that when it came to David.
He took you out more after that--any time you didn’t have to work, and sometimes even after your shift was done. He was certainly a night owl, always having business to take care of during the day. You thought he must be into some bad things if he couldn’t give you the details.
You had no idea.
You were as close to going steady as two people could be without ever making it official. But after those first few months flew by everyone just knew: you were David’s girl, and that meant no one could mess with you. Anyone that did seemed to vanish mysteriously--a fact you tried hard not to think about.
Then it happened. The conversation that send it all tumbling down.
--
That night David had snuck into your room in the ladies boarding house you were staying in. Men weren’t actually allowed, but that didn’t stop David from making his was into your bed any chance he got. He always insisted his place was too crowded for the two of you to be alone--like a crowded boarding house was somehow better.
The two of you had fooled around a little, and were laying on your bed talking. The two of you talked about your day, something funny Paul had said, the music on the radio--whatever came into your heads.
“Oh! Have you seen the posters for that new film? Casablanca?” You ask him as you lay your head against his shoulder. “We should go see it together! I hear Humphrey Bogart is phenomenal! And Ingrid Bergman as the leading lady!” You sigh longingly. “What I wouldn’t give to be like her someday.” David scoffs.
“What, stuck between two men? Can’t say I approve.” David jokes, making reference to the movie.
“No!” You laugh, swatting his chest. “A movie star! A beautiful and graceful leading lady all lit up on the silver screen.” You smile at the thought.
“You still thinking about that?” David asks, “I thought you’d let all that go already. You’re better off here, with me.” You lift you head up to look at him.
“I haven’t let anything go--it’s my dream David.” You reply back, a little hurt.
You had to admit you’d been thinking more and more about the implications of the two of you getting closer. You couldn’t live a life here with him in Santa Carla and still pursue your Hollywood aspirations. You knew that. You also knew there was no chance he would ever leave this town with you. Still, despite that you didn’t want lose him. You wanted a life with him; as reluctant as you’d been to admit it you’d fallen hard for the gangster with eyes like the morning sea.
So you’d decided inaction was the best course for now--to just keep things going as they were. Save money for Los Angeles, be with David, and see which dream fizzled from your heart first.
“It was your dream. You’re with me now--there’s no reason you need to hold on to thoughts like that.” He says, like it was obvious. You scowl, moving to untangle yourself from him.
“What I choose to do with my life is my business. You don’t get to decide what I want just because we’re together.” You say, anger and confusion building up in your chest. Maybe you would let it go one day, if you decided you wanted him more--but that was your choice, not his.
“Don’t be that way kitten.” He says, reaching up for you. “Come on, come back to bed.” You scoot away from his hold, getting off the bed. He gets up too, throwing on his pants as he stands.
“Don’t you kitten me! I’m serious about this David.” You shoot back, throwing a robe on over your silk nightgown. “Whether I chose to leave or not is up to me and nobody else. I might be your girl, but you don’t own me. And anyway it’s not like you’ve been completely honest with me about everything that’s going on in your life--I gotta have options in case--”
“In case what?” He asks, clearly getting angry. “In case you decide you don’t wanna be with me anymore?”
“That’s not what I was gonna to say.” You clarify curtly.
“So what? You just gonna play games and split when you get tired of me?” He asks, almost too angry now to manage finish buttoning up his shirt.
“No! That’s not what I was saying!” You say again, on the verge of shouting now. “But with how little you tell me, how am I suppose to know what’s going on with you? For all I know you could whined up dead tomorrow because of some shady business I know nothing about!” He rolls his eyes with a breathy laugh, and when you continue you are shouting. “Or maybe you’ve got another girl stashed away somewhere, and when you’re done with me you’ll toss me aside like yesterday’s news!”
“None of that will happen. There ain’t no other girl and I can promise you I ain’t dying anytime soon.”
“But how do I know that David? How can I be sure? When you won’t tell me anything?”
“How can I be sure after I tell you everything you won’t just up and leave me the first chance you get?” David yells back. He stares at you a moment, then scoffs. “I’m done with this.”
More or less dressed now, he storms out of the room jacket in hand. He slams the door on the way out and you sit back down on the edge of your bed.
He was a jerk--a bully with no idea how to open up. Did he think you were blind? That you didn’t know he was into some bad business? Did he think anything he did would make you love him less?
The anger flows out of you, replaced by a deep sense of loneliness. You fall into your pillows, crying out of frustration and pain.
--
You’ve thought back to that night so many times over the years. Wondered if you could’ve said something different, done something different. Could you have changed the outcome? In your heart you knew things would always have ended up this way, but maybe you could’ve done it differently--he would’ve been different. If only he would’ve opened up to you. Trusted you.
But he was scared. You knew that now. Scared to let you in, to let you see the darkest parts of him. Scared that, when you saw who he really was--what he really was--you’d turn away. Scared that you’d leave him lonely, like he’d been all those long years before.
It didn’t give him the right to do what he did. You stand by that. But you understood better now.
You knew what it was like to be alone.
--
The next night David sent Marko to the club while you were working. You liked Marko--his mischievous nature a fun change of pace to the usual hard, cool types you’d gotten so used to dealing with. He told you David wanted to make amends after your argument. Said he wanted to talk.
You agreed to meet him after work, and when your shift was done he was there waiting for you. He took your hand, and together you walked silently through the dark streets of Santa Carla. He didn’t say anything as he lead you to your destination; he just kept looking straight ahead as you stared at his profile.
Finally he lead you down onto the beach, where a picnic had been laid out. The moon shown down brightly on the small, intimate setup: a blanket laid out with candles and scattered rose petals, and a large bottle of wine chilling in a basin of ice. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Argument or no, David was rarely this romantic.
“Shall we?” He finally breaks the silence as he gestures to the picnic. You let him lead you over to the blanket, sitting down with him as he takes his hat off and sets it to the side. He looks over at you, his handsome face fully visible by the light of the moon.
“This is quite the gesture.” You say, picking up a rose petal as you look around at candles flickering in the sand.
“Not my usual style, I know.” He says, reaching up and hand to ghost his fingers across your cheek. “But I wanted to show you just how much you mean to me.”
Now you knew something was bothering him. David is never this sincere.
“Maybe we should fight more often.” You joke, playing with the rose petal in your hand.
“Listen y/n, I know it’s a lot to ask--trusting me on nothing but faith. But I’ll tell you everything.” He says, grabbing the wine bottle out of the ice. It’s got an unusual design--no label, with gemstones encrusted all along the outside. He pours you a glass, handing it to you gently. “Soon.”
You look down at the dark liquid in the glass as he pours himself a glass. You look back up at him, his pale blue eyes illuminated in the moonlight.
“You promise?” You ask. He was acting so strange--maybe he really was trying to make things right.
“I promise.” He says. You smile at him.
“Alright. I trust you.” You look down at your drink, feeling a weight lift from your chest. You bring the wine glass to you lips, the scent of it tickling your nose. It didn’t smell like any wine you’d ever had before, but given the bottle it was in you assumed it was old--very, very old--and that the vintage must effect things like smell.
You take a long, full drink from the glass; David never taking his eyes off you. It was good--again, it didn’t taste much like wine, but their was a certain sweetness to it. Something you couldn’t quite place. You take another drink before David finally takes a drink of his own.
The night moves on in a blur after that as you and David spend the time drinking and making up for the argument the night before. He seems distracted by something, but before long the wine has you feeling so good you hardly notice. You don’t even remember getting back to your room that night.
But you remember the next morning.
The sunlight sliding into your room was a rude awakening. Your skin was suddenly sensitive, so much so that every ray of sunshine felt like the sun was just outside your window, threatening to burn you alive.
You get up, quickly closing the curtains before looking back to the mirror on your dresser. Your reflection was like a ghost--only half-there as you looked back at your frightened face. You gasped, not sure what was happening. You threw your robe over the mirror, too upset to keep looking at it any longer. You lay back down on your bed--convinced this must be some sort of dream.
The the pain starts.
Your chest aches and it take everything in you not to cry out. You could smell something. Something good. You feel your mouth go dry as the thirst overtakes you. You could almost see her--the girl in the next room. You could smell her, could hear her heart beating through the walls, and you wanted nothing more than to go to her. To leave your room, to walk the hallway to her door...
And then what? What were you going to do?
You couldn’t answer that question, but you knew. You knew it wouldn’t be good. So you willed yourself to stay--stay in your room, on your bed, curled up in a ball of pain.
You eventually fall asleep, and that night as you wake you know their outside waiting for you. You change and rush out of your room, down the stair to the street. Paul, Marko, and Dwayne are all there. David was not.
“Where is he? What is this? What’s happening to me?” You ask them in a flood of questions, almost pleading as you look between the three of them. You knew they had to know what was going on, but they said nothing. Marko and Paul move to get in the front seats of the car parked on the street, while Dwayne opened the door for you to sit in the back. Apparently you weren’t getting any answers until you saw David, so you go.
You sit in the backseat next to Dwayne, none of you saying a word as Marko drives you along the coast. You finally stop in the middle of nowhere, the boys leading you down into a cave. Dwayne helps you on the large, crude steps and suddenly your standing in a large, open room inside the cave. There was junk everywhere--things collected over decades--and there was David, standing in the middle of the cave. Waiting for you. You march up to him, his face a mask, as you look him in the eyes.
“What is going on David?” You ask, holding back the flood of emotions that threatened to spill from your eyes. “What did you do to me?” He didn’t even flinch.
“I made you one of us.” He said, his face like stone.
“What does that mean?” You demand, desperate for some kind of answer.
“You’re one of us now y/n--a vampire. Just like me.” He says, the first sign of emotion flickering across his face as he grabs your shoulders. You throw off his hands.
“A vampire? Really? You must be joking.” You say, exasperated.
“You know it’s true.” He says, looking into your eyes. You look away.
The sun sensitivity, the half-reflection, the thirst for something you couldn’t describe--it made sense. As much as anything about this made sense. But you’d had that same thought yourself--fleeting though it was--and as much as you didn’t want it to be true, you had no other reasonable explain for what was happening to you.
“You wanted the truth, so here it is.” He says. You look back up at him and scream; his face having contoured into something monstrous. Pale eye, fangs, and a face that you could hardly recognize as the man you thought you loved. You throw a hand over your mouth as you turn away from him, tears in you eyes.
You feel his hand on your shoulder, making you flinch. He turns you to look at him, his face having gone back to that of the handsome man you were so used to seeing.
But it was a lie. A facade.
You fall to your knees, the tears flowing freely down your cheeks.
“Why did you do this to me?” You ask between sobs. “Why?” He crouches down beside you.
“Because you were going to leave.” You look back up at him. “I wanted to do it different--tell you first, give you the choice--the choice I didn’t have.” He scowled as he stood back up. “But you were so close to leaving already! Telling you the truth only would have sent you away faster.”
“So, so you did this to me to keep me here? So I wouldn’t leave you?” You ask, a mix of disgust and pain rising up like bile in your throat.
“Now you’ll stay with me.” He said, crouching back down to look at you. “Forever.”
You felt the rage deep inside you burst forth, boiling over in an intensity you’d never experienced before.
“No.” You say forcefully as you raise your gaze up from the ground. “I’m leaving. Now.” You stand, turning to go when he grabs your wrist.
“Leaving and going where? LA?” He asks, anger in his voice. Then he laughs, though there’s no humor in it. “Pretty hard to be a movie star when you won’t show up on the film.” Your head snaps back around.
“What?” Your voice cracking.
“The mirror’s not the only thing that can’t hold your image--pictures won’t either.” Your breath catches in your throat at his words. “Can’t be in movies when they can’t see you on the screen.” You pull your wrist from his hold with strength you didn’t know you had. In the next instant you slap him hard across his face.
“I hate you.” Your voice was barely above a whisper.
You turn and start walking back to the entrance.
“You’ll never survive with out me now--you need me!” He shouts at your retreating back, but you don’t turn around.
You were determined to make it without him now. Even if it killed you, you weren’t going back to him.
--
And you didn’t.
45 years and you survived every one of them without him. All on your own.
Figuring out what it meant to be a vampire all alone was hard--but nothing could compare to losing your dream and the love of your life all in one fell swoop. So you managed; what else could you do?
It hadn’t taken long for you to break--to feed on a human being. As much as it hurt you to admit it at first, you didn’t hate it. Your instincts and your thirst overpowered any moral misgivings you had until their was nothing left but you and your prey.
David had been right about film--no matter how many pictures or videos you tried to take with any camera you could find, it was all the same. Just an empty photo. You gave it up after a few years--after all, an immortal becoming a star would be hard to explain down the road anyway.
And so you went, traveling from town to town across the country as you fed and tried to stay under the radar. You started using your allure to your advantage; choosing to feed on the sleazy old men that had always made your life hell when you were human.
It wasn’t the best life, but it was yours.
And over all the long years you thought about him. About David. What he had done to you--turning you into this thing without even asking, and doing it because he knew you’d be lost without him once it was done--was already unforgivable. But knowing it would take away the one thing he had known you wanted from the first night you’d met? And worse, you yourself knowing that you might have agreed to it willingly, if he only would have asked?
You had hated him for that.
They say time heals all wounds, but they never say how much. Maybe if you were still human you would’ve died hating him, but things were different now. You were different. And after 45 years alone you understood now why he did it. He wasn’t being vindictive, or trying to trap you.
He was lonely, and he was scared to lose the one thing that made him feel alive again.
--
So now here you are.
You didn’t know if you could forgive him for what he’d done, but you wanted to see him. You could admit that much. You just wanted to see his face again; to not be alone for one single night.
Was that too much to ask for? After all you’d been through?
You head off the street in to the nothingness, the familiar scenery opening up before you. The cave mouth was right where you remembered; the large signs warning you away looking more rusted with time. You step down into the entrance; hearing them before you see them.
As your heels click on the hard stone of the floor, a group of punks looks up from where their lounging in some kind of make-shift seating area. It’s hard to recognize them at first--the suits and fedoras replaced with leather jackets and long hair--but their faces hadn’t aged a day.
They scowled at you at first--an equal amount of anonymity coming from your own change in appearance over the years--but it doesn’t take long for them to recognize you. David stands up, his eyes wide as he looks back at you. Then, his face turns into that usual stony mask, void of emotion, and the two of you stare each other down.
The silence was deafening, and for a brief moment you thought you’d have to be the one to break it. But, to your surprise, David speaks first.
“You’re back.” He observes, hiding any hint of how he was feeling.
“Yeah, guess I am.” You reply, equally guarded.
“For how long?” He asks, his icy blue eyes boring holes into you. You rock back in forth on your feet, looking down as you thrust your hands into the pockets of your jacket.
“I don’t know. A night? A week? Whatever.” You kick a piece of trash by your feet. “I guess--I guess I’m just tried of being on my own all the time, you know?” You admit, your facade cracking as you look back at him.
“Yeah, I know.” He admits. He walks toward you and you feel your body stiffen. He stops when he’s right in front of you. Your first instinct is to step back, put more space between you, but you stand your ground as you look back at him.
“I’m sorry y/n.” He says finally. Your eyes go wide. Of all the ways you imagined this going, you never in a million years would have anticipated an apology. “I shouldn’t have done things the way I did back then. I see that now. I just didn’t want to lose you, and I took it too far. I won’t ask you to forgive me, but it still had to be said.”
You stared back at him in silence. You weren’t sure you were ready to forgive him, but it was a start. Another long, quiet minute passes between you and he sighs. He reaches up a gloved hand to slide gently down your cheek. When you don’t pull away he smirks.
“I missed you.” He says. You look away, feeling a little heat rise to your cheeks as you scowl.
“Yeah, I--” You sigh, looking back at him. “I missed you too.” He smiles a little wider, and you can’t help but smile back.
Maybe you’d leave again tomorrow--or maybe you wouldn’t. All you knew was you were here tonight, and it felt like where you were supposed to be.