May 25

            My hands. I absolutely hate them. Looking at them just repulses me. I have slender, pale hands. They looked absolutely flawless; they even almost looked like porcelain…until now. Now, they're scratched, bleeding, and bound in strips of bandages.

            I was looking in a large mirror in one of the palace hallways earlier this evening. I just stared at my reflection, wondering if I could see my soul on the other side. I could see my youthful black eyes, pale skin, and short black hair. I don't find myself attractive. I only see a plain dhampir boy. Aunt Jevoura is the only one who ever complimented my looks. She says I am an adorable boy. Cassus says I grow uglier by the minute. Nulena sneered about no one ever wanting to marry, because I'm absolutely hideous, both inside and outside.

            While I was gazing at my reflection, I heard a flowing voice hissing, "Admiring your reflection, I see."

            I noticed Grandfather reflecting in the mirror behind me. I couldn't help but to shiver with fear. Whenever Grandfather is around, I get scared.

            "N-No," I stuttered. "I'm not."

            "Really?" Grandfather didn't seem so convinced. His dark eyes narrowed into sinister slits. "Do you think yourself…attractive? Or even…handsome?"

"No, I don't," I murmured.

            Grandfather raised a dark, thick eyebrow. "You lie."

            "No, I'm not!" I cried, my voice louder.

            Grandfather grabbed my wrists. I was too shocked and had no time to slip away from his powerful grasp. Before I knew it, he smashed the mirror with my hands. I screamed out in pain as the glass exploded under my flesh. Little pieces of my reflection rained down on the marble floor. I stared at my hands, horrified. They had bright red gashes with my vermilion blood rapidly gushing out. Grandfather violently pushed me to the floor. I collapsed among the sharp shards of the mirror. My hands were slit some more, and I couldn't stop wailing. From those little scraps of the mirror, pieces of myself flickered at me. They were all too small to put back together, but big enough to inflict such terrible wounds upon me.

            Suddenly, Grandfather's eyes widened. His black pupils were shrinking. I saw his fangs lengthening; a quiet growl emitted from the back of his throat.

            "Grandfather, no!"
            Taking my words to no consideration, he lunged at me. He shoved my hands to his mouth and began nibbling at my skin and lapping up my blood.

            "No!" I screamed hysterically. "Stop, Grandfather! Please!"

            He didn't listen. I tried thrashing away from him. I was bawling my throat and eyes out. It even felt like my heart was being torn out with screams.

            "Father, stop it!"

            I was abruptly plucked away from Grandfather's clutches and fell into two warm arms that tightly embraced me. My tears and blood soaked the dress that Aunt Jevoura wore; she couldn’t care less.

            “Jevoura,” Grandfather softly responded with no emotion. He licked traces of blood from around his lips and bony hands.

            Aunt Jevoura whisked me away from Grandfather. She carried up to her bedchamber and slammed the door behind her. She went through her drawers to heal my hands; she always kept ointment and bandages with her for my wounds.

            I couldn’t stop whimpering. I kept forgetting that I wasn’t supposed to wipe my face with my hands, for they were dripping with blood. Therefore, I had bloody streaks all over my face.

            Aunt Jevoura had cleaned my wounds and tenderly wrapped them in white strips of bandages. She took a washcloth damp with warm water and lovingly stroked the drying blood from my face. When she finished, I went over to the portrait of my mother and pulled the curtains away. There she was, still smiling her angelic smile. I reached out a hand to touch her, only to see that my bandage-swathed hand was reaching to her. I held back, afraid to ruin the painting with my soiled hands.

            Aunt Jevoura noticed my startled expression. “Sein?”

            I stared at the painting, and then I glanced at my aunt.

            “Aunt Jevoura,” I whimpered, “my mother is such a goddess. How could she have given birth to such a wretched bastard like me?”

            “Sein!” Aunt Jevoura looked shocked; yet, her eyes held some pity.

            “But…But that’s what everyone thinks!”

            Tears were gushing out of my eyes. Without thinking, my mouth fell open, and bawls exploded out of me. I fell into Aunt Jevoura’s arms. She embraced me firmly.

            “Oh, Sein,” she murmured in a soothing voice, “I don’t think that.”

            “But everyone else does!”

            “They’re all ignorant,” Aunt Jevoura proclaimed. “They don’t make the effort to know you as the gifted person you are like I do. They can’t see you as the sweet boy I know.”

            I sniffed, not really sure if I was convinced. “Really?”

            “Really?”

            I’m in my bed as I write this, getting ready to go to sleep. Mother’s music box is playing on my bedside table. One hobby of mine is to blow out the candle and listen to it playing in the dark. I can’t stop staring at my hands. They’re so ugly, being wrapped up in bloody bandages. Yoki sympathized with me. He tried to lighten my mood by telling me funny stories about his days back when he lived with a colony of bats. I’m eternally grateful for his company, but I still feel so sad.

 

May 27

            Having wounded hands are absolutely horrible. I can’t draw as well, and my handwriting is messier. I can hardly read what I’m writing.

 

October 31

            It’s New Year’s Eve. Well, for vampires, that is. It’s been months since I’ve written in here. Remember Grandfather smashing the mirror with my hands, and they were cut so badly, and Aunt Jevoura bandaged them? My hands have healed quite a while ago, but they’re not like how they were before Grandfather did this to me. Now, my hands are marked with these ugly, pale scars that cross over each other practically everywhere on my hands. They’ll never be as they once were, which makes me so sad.

            Since it’s New Year’s Eve, the palace is in a jubilant revel. Vampires of nobility have gathered in the palace ballroom tonight, dancing to loud, symphonic music. I’m just sitting in a chair off to the side, writing in here.

            I had to dance with Nulena earlier. I saw her parents eagerly urging her to dance with me. I pretended not to hear and tried walking out of their sights.

            “There he goes!” Nulena’s mother cried. “Get him, Nulena! You’ll lose him!”

            Hearing that made me run away some more. Nulena doesn’t like me. No, not only does she not like me, she greatly despises me. When I was trying to escape here, she suddenly appeared before me. She wore a flouncy gown of the hue of blush. Her blonde hair hung in thick waves inches past her narrow shoulders, Her hands were held behind her back; she gazed down at the floor, not bothering to meet my eyes.

            “Would you honor me with a dance, Sein?” she quietly asked, muttering.

            Before I knew it, we were sweeping our feet upon the marble floor. Nulena was full a graceful swan; I was an awkward duckling. I kept tripping over her feet, leaving dusty footprints upon her lovely slippers. They were made of brocade, embroidered with golden flowers, and adorned with a tiny ribbon tied in a bow upon her toes. Indeed, she seemed extremely irritated. I just felt like a complete oaf.

            “So, Nulena,” I squeaking, trying to start a light-hearted conversation, “how are you?”

            Nulena didn’t bother to hide her exasperation and rolled her wide eyes. “I’m very fine.”

            She didn’t sound very fine at all. She sounded as though she’d rather kiss a frog than dance with me.

            When the song that was playing was over, she pushed me away from her and stalked off. I must admit, I did feel hurt. She was just so mean to me. I believe I’ve already explained why several times in this diary about the reason for my mistreatment.

            You know, I never enjoy these balls. They’re so tedious. Sometimes, I’ll wistfully stare at the sweeping dancers who never take notice of me. I watch them dance as partners, holding hands, wrapping an arm around the waist…I can’t imagine myself ever doing such a thing so elegantly and confidently with someone. Who would even be truly willing to dance with me?

 

November 1, Year of the Wolf

            It’s the New Year today. It doesn’t feel any different, though. I have to start getting used to the year of the wolf and know that it’s no longer the year of the bat.

            Cassus came to my bedchamber, asking in an unusually polite voice, “Sein, would you like to perform in a play?”

            I looked at him. “A play?”

            “Typher, Nulena, and I are going to perform in a play in honor of the new year. The script was written by Nulena and Typher; my father will direct it. We were all wondering if you would like to join us.”

            I thought of this. It would probably be fun to be in a play. “Alright.”

            “Splendid! Come with me.”

            We all gathered outside in the garden. Nulena, Cassus, Typher, my uncle, and I sat around a round glass table by a large fountain that calmly spewed water. The sound of pouring water was calming. Candlelight surrounded us to provide light in the dark night. I couldn’t help but to stare into the darkness of the water from the fountain until I heard Nulena shouting like a spoiled brat, “Sein? Sein? Sein! Pay attention to me, stupid dhampir!”

            Just when I turned to look at her, Cassus slapped the side of my head.

            “Ow!” I yelled.

“A punishment for not paying attention to our lovely Nulena,” Typher smirked, madly giggling with Cassus.

            “Pray tell explain the story to us, dear sister,” Cassus bade Nulena.

            Nulena looked quiet pretty today. She wore a blue bonnet with faux white roses and white ribbons fastened beneath her gently pointed chin. Her dress was of blue silk with frilly white lace. “It is a fantastic story Typher and I have created. Maybe even one of the best tales ever written! It’s the story of a sinister demon who collects the hearts of beautiful women. He kidnaps a gorgeous princess; the love of her life, a brave peasant, goes off to rescue her. He meets a demon slayer, who wants to slay the demon. So, the peasant and the demon slayer work together to hunt down the demon before he can kill the princess for her heart. The demon is slaughtered, and the princess is saved. They all lived happily ever after, with the demon slayer keeping the demon’s head as a prize, and the princess marrying the prince. The end!”

            Everyone clapped for her dramatic recital of the synopsis. I reluctantly joined in, not wanting to seem rude.

            “There are five roles in the play,” proclaimed Nulena. “They are the narrator, the princess, the peasant, the demon slayer, and the demon who collects hearts.”

            “Let’s give out the roles now!” exclaimed Typher.

            Nulena first pointed to Typher, a pleased smile upon her pink lips. “You, Typher, will be the peasant, just as we planned.”

            Typher beamed with pride. He leapt into the air, shouting with triumph, “Yes!”

            “Cassus, you’ll be the hunter,” Nulena continued.

            “Hooray!” Cassus crowed. “I get to murder the demon!” He sent a mischievous glance at me. I couldn’t suppress a disturbed gulp. I already knew who Nulena would cast me as.

            “You’re the demon, Sein,” Nulena pronounced, pointing at me with a skinny finger.

            I said nothing; I only shot her a glare.

            “And that leaves me with one role,” Nulena announced, standing with a straight back, radiating with pride as she laid a hand on her chest. “I am the princess!”

            “And a very beautiful one you’ll be!” Uncle added, proud of his daughter.

            “Why, yes, without a doubt,” Nulena responded with haughty confidence. I’m always beautiful. I’m probably the most gorgeous girl ever to exist!”

            When she handed out the scripts she composed with Typher, I asked, “Who are we performing this for?”

            “Our family, our friends among the noble vampire society, and the palace workers,” Nulena responded, handing her father a copy of the script. “We won’t perform in this week, for my family, along with Typher, will return home in two days. We shall perform it next month, at the Winter Masquerade Ball. Practice your lines, everyone. I’m sure you’re all excited! Do not fail your fellow performers!”

            Even the moon seemed proud of her, for its beam of silvery light glowed upon her as she proudly spoke.

            I must admit, I am excited to perform the play. I’ve never been in one in all of my one-hundred-thirty-three years of life. I’m just about to read the script before I go to sleep.

 

November 5

            Let me tell you, Nulena and Typher are horrible writers. I see several spelling mistakes, and the dialogue is quite dull. The characters are all one-dimensional, and the plot is clichéd. This is how it goes:

            First, the narrator (Nulena’s father will be the narrator) presents us the princess and the peasant, announcing, “Once upon a time, there were two lovers, a beautiful princess, and a brave peasant.”

            The princess and the peasant exclaim silly, lovey-dovey sayings, chirping a bit too excitedly, “Oh, I love you, I love you,” “You’ve stolen my aching heart!” and “Grant me your heart forever!” and make kissing noises.

            Then, the demon comes and snatches the princess away from the peasant. The peasant, trying to rescue his sweetheart, meets a demon hunter, who is also after the demon. Together, they hunt down the demon. Just before the demon mercilessly slaughters the princess and rips out her heart, the hunger and the peasant arrive just on time to his cave. The hunter kills the demon, and the peasant is reunited with his dear princess. The hunter keeps the head of the demon as a trophy, while the princess and the peasant marry. The end.

            That was a completely pathetic, predictable story.

 

November 11

            I’m practicing my stupid lines. When I kidnap the princess, I’m supposed to laugh wickedly and shriek out in triumph, “You are mine!” when Nulena screams.

            In “my” cave, while the princess is begging for mercy, I snarl, “Bid farewell to your life, sweet princess. All your hopes have come to a dreadful end!”

            Just before I murder her, the hunter and the peasant gallantly crash into my cave. I scream out in fear at their arrival, and then in pain when the hunter murders me. I die, and then I’m dragged off the stage and that’s the end of my part.

            How exciting is that?

 

November 26

            Aunt Jevoura read the other characters’ lines to help me practice my lines for the heart-collecting demon. She’s excited to see the play. She finds it adorable when children are acting out a play.

 

December 19

            I am such an imbecile.

            Cassus, Nulena, their parents, and Typher visited again. When Nulena had us all gather for a rehearsal, every wore costumes. Cassus wore a skin-tight, blue costume with tall brown boots and a wide-brimmed blue hat. Typher was in a loose white shirt, black breeches, and black boots. Nulena was dressed in a luscious pink velvet gown adorned with diamonds. Laced among soft tendrils of her golden hair was a diadem of jewels. She looked at me and instantly demanded, “Where’s your costumes?’       

            “Huh?”

            “I said, where is your costume?” Nulena looked annoyed.

            “Uh…We were supposed to have costumes?” I managed meekly.

            “Of course, stupid dhampir! Just look at us! What are we wearing?”

            “Costumes?”

            “So you aren’t so stupid after all,” Nulena huffed.

            I eyed everyone’s costumes. They all looked so unique, and here I was, dressed in my usual garments. Nulena viciously glared at me, as though I were a dog that had chewed on the hem of her skirt.

            “I have an idea,” yipped Nulena sharply. She pointed at me. “Sein, dress entirely in black, and we’ll paint your face with face paint.”

            “But I’m already dressed in black!” I stated.

            “Oh. Well, then…Cassus, you paint Sein’s face.”

            Obeying Nulena, Cassus fetched a set of face paint and a brush. He began sweeping oily color over my face. When he finished, I took a look in a handheld mirror. Black paint covered my face, along with geometric lines of red paint along my cheeks and over my eyes. My lips were painted white.

            “Perfect!” Nulena crowed.

            When we rehearsed the play, I accidentally stumbled over my lines. Everyone always got mad at me and couldn’t help but to yell at me and hurl blames at me.

            I wonder how the play will go when we perform it.

December 24

            The winter ball began tonight, and will go on for twelve days. I have no joy in dancing. I’m just wandering around in the ballroom, accidentally bumping into dancers from time to time.

 

December 25

            We performed the play today. Upon the palace stage in the palace theater, which neighbors the ballroom, Nulena, Cassus, and Typher were all completely excited backstage. As for me, I slouched on the floor backstage against a wall, my arms crossed over my chest, sulking. Yoki sat by me, giving me glances of concern. Out in the audience, the royal family (including Grandfather), dukes, duchesses, counts, countesses, and the palace servants gathered and sat in the red velvet seats to watch the play.

            Nulena kicked at my legs with a bit of force. “Get up, lazy.”

            “Hey, don’t kick him!” Yoki warbled.

            I stood up with a grumble, rubbing where Nulena had kicked me.

            “What’s your problem, dhampir?” Nulena snarled. “We’re going to be performing soon, and here you are, sitting down, and you don’t seem like you’re looking forward to the play!”

            “Well, you’ve got it wrong,” I quietly growled back, my eyes on the brown floor. I lied, “I’m quite excited.”

            “Then look like it!”

            I unwillingly flashed my ivory-white fangs at her.

            “Good,” Nulena gruffly snapped. She turned her back on me and walked away.

            Yoki sighed. “She’s an unbelievable brat.”

            “Well, of course,” I muttered.

            Soon, the play began. From the side of the stage, Uncle read aloud, “Once upon a time, there were two lovers: a beautiful princess and a brave peasant.”

            Nulena and Typher rushed onto the stage towards each other, gushing with exaggeration, “Oh, I love you, I love you,” and made kissing noises. They absolutely nauseated me. I pretended to stick my finger in my throat and feigned vomiting. Yoki couldn’t suppress a giggle at my action.

            The kissing noises were my cue to come and snatch Nulena by the shoulders and drag her offstage. Nulena pretended to shriek in fear, and sent a powerful punch to my arm. I yelled out and let go of her.

            “You oaf!” she hissed a bit too loudly; the front row of the audience heard her. “You’re supposed to drag me away.”

            I puckered my face in aggravation and roughly gripped Nulena’s shoulders, yanking her offstage.

            “Couldn’t you at least be a gentleman?” she barked at me once we were behind the curtains.

            I ignored her. Yoki sent a dirty glare to her back.

            In the center of the stage, Typher and Cassus recited their lines of the peasant and the demon slayer. They may be dressed as their characters, but to me, they still acted like themselves. They’re acting is very poor, and they exaggerate their lines too much.

            Nulena and I were onstage again. We were in my “cave,” and she knelt on the stage, pretending to weep and whimper.

            “Oh, don’t kill me!” she cried, sounding very unconvincing as the princess she’s portraying. “Please, don’t! I beg of you!”

            “It’s too late. Kiss your life farewell!” I cackled maniacally.

            As Nulena screamed, Typher and Cassus rushed onstage. Typher exclaimed, “There he is!”

            “Kill him!” Cassus shouted. He whipped out a wooden sword from his wide leather belt and charged towards me. He whacked my back with great force with the sword, causing me to collapse and cry out in pain. Meanwhile, Nulena and Typher held each other in a tight embrace. Uncle read out at the top of his lungs, to overpower the noise of Cassus and me, “So, the princess and the peasant married and lived happily ever after. The end.”

            As the audience applauded, Cassus continued beating me with his wooden sword. I screamed and begged him to stop; I burst into tears. He seemed to be having fun torturing me.

            The vampire children in the audience were laughing at this. One of them threw a small, multi-colored ball at me. Other began joining in, throwing various objects such as stones, blocks, and human food at me. They also jeered out, “Dirty-blooded dhampir!” “Sick half-breed!” “Devil’s offspring!” Even some adults joined in. It was painful, both physically and emotionally. I was screaming and crying as Cassus beat me. Typher had pinned me to the stage floor with his strong hands. Nulena was giggling and chanting, “Beat him! Beat him!” I was bleeding, bruised, sobbing, and screaming. A stone rammed into my head; I shrieked out in pain. I tried to thrash and struggle away, but I was weak from the pain. Being held down by Typher and being beaten by Cassus made it overwhelmingly difficult, and impossible, for me to get up.

            “Stop it!” I cried viciously, though my words sounded disheveled. “Let me go!” Tears were choking me.

            “Weakling!” I heard someone from the audience taunt. A glass bottle landed besides me. As it shattered with great intense, a flying shard scratched my right cheek. I really wanted to die.

            “Stop!” roared a voice.

            No one listened to the voice. Everyone continued torturing me. Who would even try to save me?

            “Stop!” shouted the voice again.

            The noise in the audience had slightly subsided. Even Nulena stopped encouraging Cassus and Typher with their cruel deed. However, they both still held me down and beat me.

            “I told you to stop!” They voice was now dangerously vicious, ready to kill if necessary.

            Typher and Cassus were forcefully kicked away from me with a booted foot. Both boys painfully landed on their back or rump on the solid wooden stage. The sword Cassus had used to hit me landed on its flat blade on my chest. That was flung off me by one large, pale hand. For the first time in minutes, I started to breathe easily, though I was quaking with tears.

            Standing in front of me like a gallant knight, Aunt Jevoura glared at the audience. Everyone gawked at her with fear and surprise. She harshly scolded the audience with a menacingly outraged voice, “You shameless, shameless fellow vampires! How dare you treat this poor boy so cruelly? Have you no hearts? He had the drive to portray a demon in this play tonight for all of you. You reward him by ridiculing him in such a shameless way? Letting those brats abuse him while you all join in? How dare you! This is Princess Emaline’s son! He is my own nephew! If she were still alive, her rage would be greater than mine! I lash at you all for your wicked behavior! You call yourselves civilized vampires? You better behave yourselves, or prepare to face the death penalty! Yes, you are hearing these exact words from Her Majesty, Princess Jevoura, who is deeply ashamed of all of you! Every single one of you!”

            Everyone was dumbfounded into dead silence at Aunt Jevoura’s angry speech; it was like a monologue that had sprang out of her head with a dagger and cut out all of their tongues. She furiously, but gingerly, scooped up my limp body in her arms and stormed out of the theater. All eyes were on her, and she gave them a final, venomous glare before she left their sights. As usual, she tended my wounds in her bedchamber while I stared at my mother’s portrait wistfully.

            “Would she really be upset if she saw what just happened to me?” I asked. My tears had returned to me.

            “She’d be livid,” Aunt Jevoura proclaimed. “She may have been a sweet girl, but she had a deadly rage. Most people wouldn’t dare to provoke her.”

            A tear streamed out of my left eye. “Even if she’s dead…I…I wonder if she’s mad right now.” I started sobbing all over again. “I…I want to be excused from the rest of the stupid winter balls! I’m sick, sick, sick of it!”

            Aunt Jevoura lovingly embraced me and rubbed my back. “It’s alright, Sein. Cry as much as you want. You have my permission to be excused from the winter ball. If anyone objects, I’ll gladly speak up for you.”

            “Th-Thank you,” I wept.

            So, I can stay in my tower in peace. No one would care to disturb me. They’re all too busy having fun at the winter balls.

 

December 26

            That girl came to my dream again. I must’ve been so ugly, with my miserable face, bruises, scarred hands, and cuts. The girl didn’t seem to care. She just bent down and gently kissed my hands. She acted as though my white scars didn’t exist. She smiled brightly at me, and stretched out her arms to me, holding out her hands. Nervously, my hands shook as I reached out for her hands with hesitation. To my surprise, she began spinning me around. She look so happy, I couldn’t resist letting a laugh burst from between my lips. We were just dancing around in the darkness, but she seemed to light everything up. I thought I saw red rose petals gently sprinkling onto her out of nowhere, illuminated by the heavenly light she radiated. She was much prettier than the painting I had done of her a while ago. Her face wasn’t so round, and she wasn’t as thin as I had portrayed her.

            I painted another picture of her today. It was tricky to draw and paint, but I had fun creating it. I painted her twirling around in the darkness, a beautiful light shining around her. She was laughing, and her eyes were closed. Her long black hair billowed around her. Red rose petals softly snowed on her. I was proud of how it turned out; I’m not sure if it captures her looks exactly, but she looked like an angel in my new painting. It’s not dry yet, but I’m writing as I wait.

 

January 1

            Today is the human New Year. No vampire would care to remember it. It’s been two months since the vampire new year. That’s all I have to say.

 

January 3

            Tomorrow will be the last winter ball. I dared to show my face when I peeked into the doorway of the ballroom. Adults may not have noticed me, but several vampire children did. One of them saw me and sneered, “Well, look at Sein, the Master Heart Collector!”

            Other children, including Cassus, Nulena, and Typher (the only demon child among the vampires here) saucily strode towards me. I slightly cringed.

            “So, Sein, where have you been for the past several nights?” jeered Typher mockingly. “Since you didn’t bother to attend the balls recently, we all missed you.”

            “Perhaps you’ve been sick,” added Cassus cruelly. “You must be sick from your half-human blood. But then, you’ve been sick forever, since you’re a dhampir.”

            “No, I’m not,” I muttered under my breath.

            “Did you hear that?” Cassus howled to everyone else. “He said he’s not sick!”
            Everyone laughed in a rude manner.

            Before tears could enter my eyes, I whirled away and ran down the vast hall lined with vases of roses and windows with their heavy curtains split to let moonlight pour in.

            “Coward!” I heard them taunt at me.

            “Stupid!”

            “Sick half-breed!”

            “Heart-collector!”

            “You’ll never be a great vampire, bastard!”

            I ran and ran, even when their voices were out of my hearing range. I hurried up hundreds of stars to flee to Aunt Jevoura’s bedchamber. I slammed her door behind me and breathed heavily. I sank to the floor and hugged my knees to myself, sobbing to them. I scream to the world and stomped my feet. My eyes flew to the portrait of my mother, her painted smile forever frozen on her painted face.

            “Why were you taken away from me, Mother?” I shrieked. "Why did you bother to give me life? Did you and Father ever even care for me? Why must you two be killed because of me? Why, why, why???"

            I could've tried to destroy Mother's portrait; I was going insane with rage. I might've thrown something at it, slash a knife through it, anything. But she only smiled at me, her only son. This was the only portrait of her that I have, the only way I can see her. If only the vampiress in that painting could come to life and gracefully climb out from the canvas. I wish I could throw myself at her feet and embrace her with all my might. I want to feel the folds of her dress, hear the rustle of her skirt against the wooden floor, and feel her motherly warmth. I would sob out tears of sadness, happiness, and bitter sweetness. I would have someone else to return my love besides Aunt Jevoura and Yoki. I cried and cried until I fell asleep on a rug in Aunt Jevoura's bedchamber.

 

April 4

            It's just one more week until I turn one-hundred-thirty-four years old. I was told that if I were a human child, I'd be thirteen years of age. However, I look older than that. I could pass for the age of fourteen or fifteen human years. I must've sprouted several inches since last year; I'm about five feet and seven inches tall. My shoulders are broader, and my body is stronger. I'm not as scrawny, but I'm still quite slender. My hair is longer; it covers my ears.

            I'm not very excited for my birthday. I feel like my childhood is wasting away. I absolutely despise it. Is there no innocence in the world?

 

April 11

            Some birthday gift I received! It is announced by Grandfather and my uncle that I am to be engaged to Nulena. The reason for this betrothal is because she's human, and I am dhampir, so everyone assumes that we are a perfect match. At our wedding, a priest will turn us into vampires. I am upset over this engagement, and so is Nulena. She is absolutely livid. She's been shrill with rage all day, yelling that she can't bear to marry a sick dhampir. She'd be a horrible wife for me. Our wedding won't take place for seventy-seven-years. I'm going to go live with Nulena and Cassus when they leave the palace from their visit next month. I don't want to go! I really don't!

            Due to that idiotic play, Cassus, Typher, and Nulena won’t stop calling me a heart collector.

 

 

April 14

            Oh no. The palace servants are ordered by Grandfather to start packing my belongings, a little bit day by day. The servants refuse to listen to Yoki and me when we command them to stop. Their excuse is that their orders come from King Orlorse. I hate my grandfather!

 

April 16

            Yoki tells me that no matter what, he'll always stay by my side. It's very sweet of him. I'm so glad to have such a faithful pet bat like him.

 

May 10

            Cassus, Nulena, and Typher have come to visit today. I'm going to be forced to leave with them in a week! Cassus relentlessly teases Nulena and me. Nulena chases him around, trying to slap him. Typher isn’t pleased by this engagement. I think he's in love with Nulena. If so, Nulena should marry him! Just leave me alone!

 

May 15

            In two days, I'm leaving the palace. I went to visit Aunt Jevoura in her bedchamber and cried to her.

            "I don't want to go away!" I lamented desperately. "Could you please convince Grandfather not to send me away from here? I don't want to leave you, Aunt Jevoura!"

            Aunt Jevoura looked at me blankly,