Harper Rock Journal [Grey]

[Grey (DELETED 5068)]

June 2, 2016


I've done without a family for a long time. No. Not a family - my Ex-family. Fforde.

I should let Micah know.

It isn't like I'd be the one to bring the bad news. In fact, I don't find it bad news at all. I did, when I first felt some of the connection snap. When I felt what was left of my heart break into a million pieces. I thought it was pathetic, really. To feel that way about someone. Love isn't supposed to hurt, the quotes say.

It is funny. All the Instagram and Facebook and Crow messages about love and affection and truth and pain swirl around inside my mind like a lump sum of charcoal. It makes me want to dip my hand inside that full barrel of black dust and paint my fingers across a blank, crystal clean canvas.

Because in truth, loss is about starting over. It is about a new light at the end of the tunnel of darkness.

I smirk as I write that. Because... I feel like I'm feeding myself a load of crap. Pretty words to make me feel better when an ex-lover and Sire dumps me. Ex-Sire. He cut off access to the little family I might have thought I had left.

In a way, that's okay. Because if he's not mine then they were never mine to even begin with. They were his. His connections. His family. His friends. His own Childer. Remnants. Left over. Pieces.

I should tell Micah. He deserves to know.

I don't know if I can tell him, though. He's been so supportive. Hard. Demanding. Expecting. He's helped me through a lot already. He plucked me up from the sewers. He dealt with me - Jesse's problem. But, now I'm free. Free to be whatever and whoever the **** I want to be...

Free.

[Grey (DELETED 5068)]

October 17, 2016


It hurts.

My skin. It burns.

I can't breathe anymore.

It doesn't just hurt in the sunlight.

It hurts in the darkness too.


Someone help me...

Oh, please....

God.

Help me...


Written in blood, the pages of the now empty journal are shredded across the cement floor. Her bone-thin figure is curled into the corner of a dilapidated house. There's blood everywhere.

Bodies liter the floor, female... Male... Children...

She was always so hungry. Nothing filled her up anymore.

[Grey (DELETED 5068)]

August 5, 2017

I am dead.

For a long time, I hear people move around me. Conversations, plotting, war words, harsh whispers, errant concerns, and gathering plans.

I sit...

And sit...

And stare...

And sit...

No one can wake me up.

No one can make me feel better.

Sometimes, I manage to move. On occasion, I'll pull my skeletal body up off the chair that I had stolen in the corner of his safe haven as my own. Everything is here, you see... An ATM to access my funds. A shop to purchase that precious blood that no longer quenches my thirst.

I've become a slave to death.

This is the last page in this journal.


It's thin, splattered with blood and crinkly from the pressure my pen put on the last page. I don't remember writing that. There was a lot of anger. A lot of pain.

Ten blood pacts, contraband, the seedy shop owner scoffs at me. I narrow my eyes and he doesn't give the skeleton in front of him any mind.

They would be free, except I can tell he needs to upgrade his presence a bit.

The last page...



I'll have to go out now.

I'll have to buy a new journal. A new blank book.


I don't remember how I got back here though.

Micah and his family... He once hated me. And now he gives me the ultimate protection.


I can feel my muscles burning. My skin itching.


Christ. I need a shower.