Bite Me

Charles Is Either PMSing, Or He's Got A Rock In His Shoe

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Four-Charles Either Is PMSing, Or He’s Got A Rock In His Shoe

Shivering, I throw my blankets away from me. It barely covers me! I glance at the small clock near my dresser. In big bright lights, it reads: 4:45am. I grunt, standing up from my bed. I go over to my dresser and pick out some shorts and a tank top, since I will be running today. After a quick shower I apply my make up the brothers bought for me; Red lipstick and black mascara. Just the way I like it. Once I get down the stairs, I groan.

They’re not gonna let me leave the house to go running.

So instead I walk over to the living room, only to see everybody’s up, watching the news. They slowly snap their gaze to me.

“Oh, look, the human’s up.” Charles announces, turning back to the TV.

“Don’t you guys sleep?” I ask, my eyebrows furrowing.

Henry shakes his head, grinning. “Vampires don’t sleep.”

“Oh, so Twilight does have some facts right.” I say, sitting down on the comfy couch. Everybody laughs except Charles. What’s his deal? Is he mad about yesterday?

Bart looks at me. “Were you going for a run?”

I sigh. “Well, I was, until I remembered I’m some sort of prisoner.”

Charles grunts. “You got that right.”

“Charles! She can go run if she wants to. I mean, we’ll watch her.” Edward offers.

Charles stares at his brother. “No. She can’t leave the house. That’s the end of it.” He almost yells. Everybody drops it after that, so I decide to change the subject.

“How old are you guys?”

“154.” Edward replies.

“151.” Henry says, his eyes glued to the TV.

“152.” Charles mutters, not even glancing my way.

“150.” Clinton answers.

“I’m 144. I hate being the youngest.” Bart mumbles.

My mouth drops. There’s no possible way they can be that old. “H-how?”

Clinton sighs. “I told you this like two times already. We. Age. Slower. Our hearts are not as fast as yours, so we age slower, and stay alive longer.”

“How old are you in human years?”

“Henry’s 23, Edward’s 25, Charles is 24, I’m 22 and Bartholomew is 16.”

“Stop calling me that, Clint!” Bart growls, narrowing his eyes but Clinton only chuckles.

“How old are you?” Charles pipes up, now looking at me.

“24.” I answer, still thinking about their ages. Charles attention goes back to the TV with a huff.

Glancing around the room, I still don’t see how I’m not that afraid. This is like some horror movie gone wrong. Here I am, with five brothers that are vampires. And they’re watching TV. I thought vampires sleep in coffins, suck blood all night, and are extremely scary. But I stand corrected, or should I say, sitting corrected. They’re as nice as can be, with the exception of Charles.

“Nora?” Edward asks after some silence.

“Mhm?”

“How the hell did you get into this mess?”