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Day 22- Suffering

~when you boil it down the nothing

and the point of it comes out

and the epitome read out loud.

and the world is told to explain.

what in the world has occurred here.

I have one word to say.


I am sorry for thinking it. That I was fine and that happiness was possible. My mind leaves me and so does my heart. I stare at Luke who is hollowing out the dagger with his pocket knife. "the holy water goes in here," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "you must kill Drake and get us out of here."

"Yes, love," i whisper back. "I will."

"Can you make me immortal?" He asks. "I would do that for you. Become immortal for you. I would suffer with eternal life if it meant that we could be together forever. Can you then? Make me a vampire like you? Can you , my Angel?"

"I'm afraid only type one vampires can make other vampires," I cry, teary eyed. "I can't make you like me. I can't. I don't have the ability to do so. Drake would have to do it and he would never do something like that."

"Then leave me be love. I must rest. There are only a few days left till the full moon and I need my strength."

"Of course, love," I reply quickly. "Of course, Luke."

When Luke is finished with hollowing out a center in the dagger so that it can carry holy water he sets it down on the ground. "All done." He said. He is pasty green and his face is so swollen he is barely recognizable. He looks awful and I cry for him loudly, howling as if I am one of the werewolves he used to hunt as a werewolf hunter, howling at the moon in a fit of rage.

I stand by the wall on my side of the tower and I feel as if I am overwhelmed by suffering.

I am a victim
For sure.
and unhopeful

From now on.

There was only one word that could describe this awful place and this awful way that they had come to get to this point.


I feel badly thinking it. But I can think of very little other than my own insane mind and of Luke's illness and the potential of him passing away before we make it out of this place.

I drop to my knees and begin to pray to God. Please let us make it out of here alive, I beg. Please let us make it. I need to make it. I need to survive. I don't want to die. I don't want to die.

I look at Luke who is staring at the dagger laying beside him. "Promise me, you'll kill him for sure," he mumbles.

"I'm promise, darling. I promise."

"And promise you'll get out of here."

"I promise."

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