Leighton Harding's Story

"Let's go."

"No!" cried the voice behind him. Surprise would have hardly conveyed the thoughts that raced through Sterling's mind. Flabbergasted, perhaps, would have been a better term. Didn't children these days know not to walk off with a strange man? Hell, the girl had just met him and she was entrusting him to not hurt her or harm her. Granted, he had no such intentions, but what if he had?

Sterling shook the thought off as he peered over his shoulder quickly to see Leighton, biting down lightly on her lower lip as her emerald hues locked with his chocolate brown ones. He gave a look of confliction and then turned again to start off toward his home. No...no, he couldn't do this. It was wrong to lead a child away from their home, to pose as a friend when he failed to even make friends in his own age group. He knew that as soon as the sheriff caught wind of this, he'd certainly find himself under at least one, if not more, charge.

His hand was grabbed, however, and held on to with whatever strength the compact little girl could muster. Tenaciously, she clung to his hand and pulled with quite surprising strength for a girl of her age. He could have pulled his hand free, clear out of her grip, but such a thing would have been horrible to do. His parental instincts began to show and he stopped to crouch down in front of the girl, at eye level with her now.

"I'd like to tag along...if that's okay?" Even if it hadn't been okay, Sterling would have agreed.

"Yes," he murmured, a smile spreading across his lips as he nodded his head slowly but surely. "Yes, that would certainly be okay." Should he tell her to ask her guardian? The idea seemed good, but Sterling knew no adult i their right mind would let a man like him run off with a girl this young. So, instead, he decided to ignore the watching figure at the window. Besides, what harm was he doing in all honestly?

Slowly, he rose from his crouch and beckoned for the child to follow him as he pushed his one hand into the depths of his pockets and gathered his books with the other. Their walk was quite silent, for Sterling wasn't sure how to begin a conversation with the child. Finally, though, as they stepped on to the porch of his large home, Sterling decided to start one.

"So, do you have a favorite book?" he decided upon first. In his eyes, it was a neutral question that wouldn't seem weird or nosy. They entered and Sterling closed the door behind but left it unlocked, feeling he might frighten the child further...though, she didn't seem scared in the first place. "You...uh...you could take your jacket off if you want." He pointed quickly at an ancient looking coat rack he'd taken after his parents' death. In fact, most of the furniture was dated in the house. Though he thought modern decor was interesting, it just felt weird when he tried it once in an old place of his. The old fashioned decorations made him feel more at home and comfortable. There was an odd, extreme cleanliness about the place too. Despite his reclusive ways, Sterling hadn't once let the house fall into shambles. A speck of dust would soon meet its end in this home, it seemed. "Oh, and your shoes can go there too..."

Sterling slowly shrugged off his own jacket, letting it fall off of his shoulders before he slipped it off and turned to hang it on the rack. As he hung the fleece garment on a peg, Sterling looked down at the young girl who had stopped suddenly in the doorway to his home, still looking like a giant, pink marshmallow in her own coat.

"My daddy used to read me The Velveteen Rabbit. I really liked that one." The smile that had been plastered on his lips faltered for a second, then two, as he heard the title. It brought back memories that were bitter, yet sweet. They were memories he had tried to shove into the depths of his mind shortly after Lily's death. It had worked, obviously, but he had not buried them deep enough for now nostalgia overtook him and he pressed his lips together tightly and forced another smile, this one not as genuine as the first.

"I know that book," he spoke softly, as if saying it too loudly would cause his voice to shatter like a glass pane. "I used to read that to my daughter years and years ago." He gave a more genuine grin now as memories came back to him. "I'm sure that was one of her favorite books, too." He crouched to untie his shoes as her eyes scanned the house. He hoped it wasn't overwhelming to her.

"What's your favorite book?" Her voice soft rang through the front hall suddenly and Sterling jolted in surprise. His eyes turned toward her, meeting her at eye level now because he was on one knee. She had, meanwhile, begun to remove the layers of clothing she'd bundled up in before running outside. The scent of human sweat was instantly recognized by Sterling. His nose, sharpened by his vampirism, would have been sensitive to pick up on much less. Therefore, the scent was overwhelming, causing him to swallow nervously as his gut fluttered with worry. No, he couldn't feed off of this girl...she was too young. He'd either kill her or...

Sterling couldn't believe he was thinking of it, but now it was just too good of an idea to ignore. He wasn't thinking straight in the first place, thanks to the rough resurfacing of memories. She looked so much like his own daughter, gone for years now. Yet, the child would inevitably grow up, as all children do. But, what if she was a vampire? Then, she would not only be a child forever, but she would also never die as his own daughter had. And, how peculiar was it that she had no father and he had no daughter? It was destiny. He had to. Temptation was a bitch. It pushed people to do things they would not normally do. Sterling certainly would regret it later, but right now, all he could think of was his daughter and how much this young girl acted like her.

"My favorite book? Probably One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest." He stopped, still kneeling though he'd removed his shoes, and pondered the question. "I did love The Great Gatsby, though. Fitzgerald was a wonderful author and a wonderful man." He gave a quick nod and a smile. "I'm sure you'd love those books-- if you enjoy to read, I have many books you would probably want to read." He reluctantly stood up and the smell of her flesh became less intense.

"Would you like something to eat or drink?" he asked curiously, head cocking innocently. One of his two powers, the ability to affect another person's opinions and thoughts through charisma, was helpful in such a situation. It was a horrible thing to do, a deed he would probably regret, but he prayed that he'd either be able to convince her that vampirism was good, or turn her into a vampire while she was unaware. Either way, he would be getting exactly what he wanted-- a daughter that would never die or leave him.

Sebastian tensed as he heard a small scream from inside. Was she alright? Had someone gotten inside of the house with both Annelise and Leighton in there? Oh God, he should have taught Leighton how to use a gun! He prayed Annelise had it under control. To his surprise, she was unlocking the door soon after he'd returned with his Winchester rifle. Pulling it into an offhand position, he hurried into the house and swept his gaze across the room. Where was Leighton? Why wasn't Leighton with Annelise? Questions rushed through his head, causing his head to pound.

"Leighton!" he shouted, turning toward Annelise with a wild expression in his eyes. "Where is she?! Is she okay?"

"I-I looked away for a minute to talk to you!!" she cried, tears welling in her eyes and streaking down her cheeks. "I looked to s-see where he took her and didn't see anything!" The crazed expression seemed to melt from his face, replaced instead by a look of distress.

"...oh God," he whispered, his hands shaking so that he almost dropped his rifle in the hall. For a second, his grip did falter and the loaded gun fell toward the ground with a thump as it hit the hardwood flooring. "Oh God, Leighton..." He shot a glance at Annelise, his brow furrowed in worry, but didn't bother growing angry. In a flash of movement, Seb snatched his gun up and hurried into the yard with it raised in offhand position again.

"Leighton!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the surrounding forest. "Leigh! Leigh, where are you?!" The footsteps in the thin, remaining snow were easy to track. Seb sprinted after them, clutching his rifle tightly in his hands as he lowered it to his hip. The tracks led into town and then, suddenly, the track went cold. Too many footprints cluttered the walkway and, even then, not much snow still laid on the sidewalks. A few pedestrians hurried away from him. Who wouldn't have? He still looked crazy with an angry glint in his eyes as he held the gun tightly. Sebastian's knuckles had turned a bloodless white from the pressure and his face had also blanched with worry.

"Oh, fuck," he choked out. Without warning, he turned on his heel and sped out of town and back toward his home. Only minutes after he had left, he was back in the house and storming through toward the end table where he keys were. "Annelise! We're going after her, come on!" he shouted, gathering up the keys to his F-250. He hurried out to the truck and climbed in fluidly with the gun across his lap. Once she'd gotten in the car, Sebastian slammed a foot on the gas pedal and rode into town. "What did he look like, Annelise? Did you recognize him?!" Unintentionally, he was yelling at her and, in the space inside the car, his voice rebounded and sounded much louder than usual.