You were the town over from Clarkdale’s preacher’s daughter, you’d grown up around the twins and Sammie seven years ago, as you were the same age as Sammie. Their neighbor till your pa moved y’all away. You’d still snuck down here though to see what happened and all. You’d heard the twins were back, so you obviously came to see Sammie and his cousins at the opening night of their new Juke Joint.

Until it all went to shit by some irish guy showing up with a charming devil’s smile and a handsome face. And people started dying and shit— finding out about vampires. Then you’d gotten bit in the midst, your dull attraction to the leader amplifying tenfold which is why when Smoke was about to stake him, you sped out of the sawmill to grab the stake, throwing him to the side. Just as the sun begins to peak over the river, spaying orange and yellow, you grab the wounded Remmick’s arm, speeding y’all down the road to your old house that was abandoned and therefore an entrance wasn’t needed.

Shit. You’d saved him. Now, not handsome anymore— god no, his face was all tarnished, side of his mouth ripped open, showing the long case of teeth, the side of his head split open from where Sammie’d hit him with the guitar.