I’m tired. I’m dehydrated. I’m ready to get out of this hotel room. It stinks like a waste treatment plant. There is blood and shit in places I didn’t expect it to be. I won’t feel clean until I shower at my apartment. That is if my landlord hasn’t kicked me out yet. I’m late on rent, and Henry says I might lose my job. My actual job.

I’m pretty sure the worst of my week is coming to an end.

Last night was pretty uneventful. I saw Lucy Westenra outside the window of the hotel room. Normally seeing anyone outside a hotel room for me is rare since I shut the black out curtains, but in cheap places like this, they never shut all the way. The gap in this room is grand canyon sized. I was sitting on the bed eating some pizza and drinking vamp-be-gone when I glanced over and there she was peeking in the curtains.

I’m talking Lucy Westenra from the 1992 film Dracula by Francis Ford Coppola. Average looking girl made gorgeous by her wavy red hair and twinkling smile. She didn’t look exactly like her, I’m sure it just popped into my head because of that mop of crimson sitting above her face. Either way she was there staring at me, a cute button smile, tight The Cure t-shirt ripped down the front revealing her cleavage. Who the hell listens to The Cure now a days anyway?

I couldn’t ask her that because I blinked and she was gone. Good ol’ Lucy. I hope she comes back, new vampires are always fun to meet, all posing and dominance themed. The real question is what has Isabelle been doing to let others know about me? Surely this blog is a threat to them somehow.

Fuck it I’m going back to sleep.