My story.

So I figure one day this blog will be like my memoir and people will come from all over to buy it and read all about who I was and who I became but for now I am just me; who that is, I don't even know anymore. I'm a wife, or at least I was, I'm a daughter, though I'm not entirely certain if I'm a great one. I'm a mom, even though I often fall short and I'm a friend though sometimes I'm not as good of one as I wish I was. It's said all the time, life puts on you only what you can handle but it's only during the times you are tested that you wonder if you're really as strong as this so called "life" thinks you are. Can you really rise above adversity, can you really pick up the broken pieces of who you once were and build again? Lately, I've felt like my entire life, all that I am, all that I was, it's been taken from me and I'm left a shell of the person I used to be. An empty existence of a person who once was. I've been pushed out of my life, Mother, Wife, Friend, Daughter and been made to remake all that I am. We are born a blank canvas, to do with what we will but how often does a person get the ability to remake themselves, to reinvent all that they were... Preferably not often as it's one of hardest things I would think a person would have to do. To become someone they never planned on being. Maybe one day, at least I hope, I will be someone's wife again and I will be a better one because of all that's happened recently. Maybe on that same day I will realize that I'm a better mother, a better daughter and a better friend too because it is not until we are tested that we find out just who we are and all that we can be. It's not until we are tested that we realize that perhaps all that we were wasn't living up to our full potential. It hurts now, to feel so blank, so empty but I hope that one day, preferably soon, I will be whole again. My pages, my story no longer clear of words and left scattered on the floor but written in it's entirety and bound with beautiful golden thread with pages lined in silver and pressed to perfection. Of course, my story is a long time in the making and perhaps this is the part that makes the story worth reading. So stay tuned, it's going to be a wild ride.

Twitter post.

( @SlyScoundrel @chaoticlycorupt ) #StorylineStart : ~ : It seemed like an eternity when in reality it was only a day ago. The woman’s face flash across my mental screen more times than I cared to count. The terror in her eyes was something I would never forget and the guilt was almost more than I could bear. There was blood everywhere, in the bar where I finally found @SlyScoundrel, he’d taken to violence as he so often did out of anger. I could feel the woman’s heartbeat as it was like a gong inside my mind and then there she was. Covered in a delicious crimson liquid, hers or not, the sight and smell was more than I could handle and within an instant I had the woman’s neck between my teeth; tearing it from her body, listening for her heart to stop. The guilt nagged at me after that and I couldn’t bear the thought of hurting someone else and so I started into the night that would soon turn to morning. @SlyScoundrel had saved me again; like he always did. From the sun this time and my own torment, but had he really? My torment would stick with me; it would eat away at me even with him near, wouldn’t it? I felt like my thoughts were so loud that even @SlyScoundrelcould hear them through the small space that was now between us. He insisted we ride in the same car and so he left his at the small bed and breakfast where only a few short hours ago I was ready to sacrifice myself to the sunrise. He said he’d get it back later and I had no doubt in his abilities to convince someone to bring it to him but part of me wish he’d let me ride alone. I was certain the expression on my face would give away my thoughts if he couldn’t in fact hear them as I thought he could. He didn’t speak, thought I caught him looking in my direction a few times, he didn’t say a word; letting me to me own thoughts. When we got back I would have to tell #Stefan what happened; what I had done and how @SlyScoundrel saved me from myself. He wouldn’t be happy about it, I was certain there would be yelling but that wasn’t what had me most on edge. I would also have to tell him that my feelings for @SlyScoundrel were more than I could ignore now. I didn’t know if it was my new vampire emotions or if perhaps they were already there and I chose to ignore them before but they existed and that was something I was now, more so than other times, painfully aware of. I remembered now, what @SlyScoundrel made me forget. That he met me first, we shared an electric conversation that would have left me feeling things I never knew I could feel but he compelled it away. I was angry with him, at first, for tampering with my mind until the second memory also returned. He had returned my necklace, the one I would never wear again, and he told me he loved me. He also made me forget this, one act of unselfishness that might have changed the way I felt about @SlyScoundrel if I knew it. Now I did know and it changes everything.

Working title... -- Copyrighted RLHammer

Prologue:

The night seemed colder somehow, though if one thought about it; standing in a cemetery smack in the middle of December wearing little more than a raincoat to cover you might indeed make a night feel colder than it should be but I think it was more than that. In fact, I – knew – it was more than that. A shiver ran down my spine, a shiver only made worse as I glanced down at my bare wrist.

Inwardly, I cursed myself for never buying a watch; of course it was a strange time to think about something like that but then again I wasn't really known for being normal. You see I’m psychic, okay no not psychic in the strictest sense of the word it's more like a knowing. Some might call it clairvoyant or perhaps intuition while others may simply refer to it as déjà vu but everyone is psychic in their own way, some of us just more than others.

I don’t see pictures of anything, I can’t wave my fingers over a cup filled with tea leaves and tell you your future I just kind of – know – things before they happen and as I glance up into the night sky trying to decide whether the moon is at 1 o’clock or 2 o’clock I know that without my help there’s a girl out there, somewhere, lost in the seedy under belly that’s known as down town Brooklyn whose going to die if I don’t find her.

Now, what does that have to do with being stuck outside in the cold with little more to my name than a thin layer of polyester, well I’m about to tell you. My name is Eva Wainwright and for lack of a better way to describe it I am a psychic and this is my story.

Chapter One: TODAY

The alarm went off on my side table; as it did every morning about this time and I tapped it to turn off the incessant pinging that would inevitably continue in my mind for the next few minutes until I finally sat up and pulled myself from the warmth and comfort of my bed. Albeit a bed that could possible double as a slab of word to side a house but it was warm never the less. Usually, and don’t get me wrong I enjoy my sleep as much as the next 20 something woman, but I often like this part of my day.

When everything is shiny and new, bright and open to interpretation; this was the one part of my day when the possibilities were endless. Today could be the day I won the lottery, or maybe I’d buy a dog, or and if I’m really lucky, maybe I’d meet a guy. Someone tall and handsome…someone smart but not arrogant about it and someone who could sing.. I always wanted a guy who could hum a few bars on a good journey song… Hey, so I have a very particular idea of the man I want, sue me.

My point being the morning is a time to look forward to what might happen, but not – this – morning. No – this – morning I woke with a feeling of both dread and the overwhelming urge to hide under my covers until it was over but alas I couldn't. Of course to an outside looker you’d say, ‘Eva, get your act together, for today is the first day of the rest of your life because today you’re finally a writer.’ And I’d smile indulgently and say ‘you’re right, this is what I've been working for all my life, today I will get my first real story and I might win a Pulitzer or something.’

Then reality would set in and I’d be right back to this doom and gloom mentality that something just wasn't right and instead of today being the day that all these great things happen, today was the day I should simply stay in bed.

With a sigh I did eventually slide out of bed, my feet instinctively seeking out the white bunny slippers that say next to my bed, in the same spot every morning and with my eyes still half closed I located my bathroom. Which really was just a corner of my loft that I hung a curtain around; starving artist and all that, plus this was the only place close to the Manhattan daily news that didn’t have bars on the windows. Something told me that if there were already bars positioned across your windows that it was more like not having a way out rather than the bad guys not being able to get in; if you know what I mean.

Perhaps, I was just thinking negative but that was the life I lead I supposed, always thinking about every single thing that could go wrong, merely as a way to avoid it which in all actuality made it somewhat difficult to live normally but who was I kidding, I wasn't normal but who – was – normal these days? Normal is relative, I mean to me, this is who I was so to be honest everyone – else – could be weird and I could be the curve you should grade by. 

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