No Regard by Carolyn Barber (e book reader free txt) 📖

 There is a saying, "Fight fire with fire!". It's an old school saying that implies using the same or better strategy against one's opponent. It's an expression I had heard my father use several times as I was growing up. I never realized at some point I would actually put it's meaning to practical use. Thank you Dad, for always having sound advice.-Silvia

It was two days past my eighteenth birthday the night I was murdered. Though it is my natural inclination to want vengeance, I find myself in a bit of a conundrum. The problem is I love the man that murdered me. He was everything to me, I trusted the man I thought he was. A part of me now realizes I was in love with a facade, an image he portrayed himself to be. When I look into his eyes, I see the man I fell in love with when I was alive, and in those moments I feel love in my heart for him. Suddenly I am jolted into the reality that he deceived me and ended my young life. In taking my life he has cursed me to a world I have never known. He is here now, guiding me through my new life in death. I find myself confused and scared, yet he is here comforting me. He says he loves me, and has made his claim on me for eternity. I loved him in life, but in all honesty, I do not know if I can love him in our life of the undead. 

My world is so dark, my eyes are extremely sensitive and having difficulty in adjusting to darkness. The only time I can see is during the darkest hours of night. With time my eyes will adjust and eventually I'll be able to take in more light. Though the beauty of a sunrise and sunset used to bring tears to my eyes, now sun exposure would simply turn me to ashes. Sadly, I will never be able to feel the sun on my face again.

My body moves with such grace and ease that I find myself defying gravity at will. Any physical movement is effortless and uses very little energy. My strength and agility is amazing, I find myself becoming somewhat obsessed with what I am physically capable of. I was very athletic when I was alive, fitness was always a passion to me, now I feel that passion has been unleashed.

My appetite has changed dramatically. I have a relentless craving, deep within me for blood. Pure, thick, warm, sweet blood. Just the mere thought of this substance causes me to salivate profusely. When I was alive, I would sometimes crave chocolate, but nothing as severe as the need to quench my desire for fresh blood.

I will no longer shop for food at a grocery store and cook my meals. Instead I will venture into the night like a predator on the hunt, seeking out and stalking my prey in cunning stealth, waiting for that perfect moment and then, when all is perfectly aligned I will strike and kill. I will take what I need, what I crave most, the substance that sustains me, blood. I did not ask for this life of the undead. I cannot be anything other than what I am, therefore I will kill because that is what I must do to perpetuate, and I will do it with no regard.

I woke to a tap on my bedroom door, "Silvie, be down in ten!" my mom called out from behind the closed door.  "Okay, ma, I'm up!" I replied.  I glanced at the clock it was 7 am, Saturday morning, two days after my eighteenth birthday. My room was filled with light, making the process of getting up early easy. I threw on my undergarments, sweatpants, and a sweatshirt. I brushed my hair back quickly and pulled it into a ponytail. Grabbing my Adidas, I headed downstairs, mom was by the door waiting in her cute, pink jogging suit. Sitting on the bottom stair I put my shoes on and tied them. While I did, I suggested we take the long route this morning. I hadn't heard from Ty since the eventful night of my birthday, two days ago. I was feeling angry and needed a little extra challenge today. Mom, being the great jogging partner that she was, felt the need as well. This was our favorite thing to do together. Something we shared in common was eating healthy and staying fit. We had been jogging together, rain or shine, every weekend since I started high school. Four years into our habit, something we would continue until the day came that I moved away, at least that was the plan.

My father had passed away from pancreatic cancer when I was thirteen. He was a great man, worked hard all his life, and even up to the very day he died, he was selfless. His biggest concern was leaving us behind. He was in so much pain at the end, not wanting to let go, he gave the fight of his life, not for himself but for his wife and daughter. My mother and I held his hands in the last minutes of his life, begging him to let go and find peace. It wasn't until we told him we would be okay, that his love for us would carry us throughout our lives, that he was finally able to give up his last breath. I will never forget the peace that had come over his face as he passed into the next realm. It was as if he saw something so beautiful words could not have described it, one last slow long exhale and then, he was gone. I loved my father. I love my father.

My mother never remarried, she had no desire to find anyone else. My father was her soul-mate, no one would ever take his place. One day they would be together again, she found comfort in this, and remained faithfully bound to him in his death as she had in his life.

I was an only child, since the age of thirteen it was just my mother and myself living together, creating routines and a lifestyle that suited both of us and in time the pain of our tragic loss eased up. We never fought or had an unkind word to say to each other, even if we didn't agree, we respected each others opinions. We both had a good sense of humor and found laughter to be a powerful antidote to depression. We liked the same programs on TV, enjoyed the same music and often broke out in spontaneous crazy dancing. We would grab what ever we could find to mimic a microphone, and sing to each other with the expertise of a trained, professional entertainer. We both liked to keep our surroundings clean and organized. We enjoyed light flooding the house, bright flowers, and coffee with biscotti's. I loved my mother. I love my mother.

Twelve o'clock midnight, the gaudy ornate grandfather clock chimed, awakening me. On the twelth chime my eyes jolted open. My sub-conscience had taken me to a favorite time and place on the ocean. I could smell the salt air, I could feel the sea's mist on my face, hear the waves crashing against the rocks, and feel the warmth of the sun on my skin. I was seven years old, my father and mother were helping me build a sand castle. We were laughing as dad threw cheese puffs into the air while the sea gulls snapped them up with skilled precision, before they could even hit the ground. Suddenly there was a loud noise that caught our attention, confused we looked at each other, my mom and I were terrified, my father wrapped his arms around both of us and kissed the tops of our heads, by the third chime he had dissolved, leaving my mom and I holding each other, on the seventh chime, I felt my mother disappear, leaving me alone with my fear. I closed my eyes tight, at the twelfth chime I opened my eyes abruptly and found myself gazing into the eyes of Ty.

Ty was a very strikingly handsome man. His eyes were the color of brushed, polished copper, framed by long, thick dark eyelashes. I often found myself lost in them. His hair was dark brown, wavy and he wore it in one length, parted on the side, to his shoulders. He was twenty, 6'2" and had the build of a well toned athlete. I had met him when I was sixteen, and even though he was two years older than me, we were immediately attracted to each other. We spent all our time together, and for two years, we built a relationship based on love, trust and abstinence. We found a comfort with each other that few couples find. Though it was challenging to both of us, we exorcised self-control out of respect for each other and agreed not to engage in sexual activities until I turned eighteen. Two years of restraining one's self from a burning desire creates a passion and anxiety that is overwhelming. By the time my eighteenth birthday came, I was completely ready to give myself to Ty. That was then.

This is now. I looked deep into his eyes as he laid next to me and without saying a word, he pulled me tightly into him, wrapping