The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

She stares out the window, the world is gray, dismal, cold, rain drizzles down, fog blankets the ground. There are tears wanting to be shed and screams dying to be heard, but she doesn't care enough to let them out. The gun in her lap is a comforting weight, like lap dog or a cat, only not soft, not cuddly, just a steady weight.



Her hand curls around it, cradling it, lifting it... the barrel caresses her temple traces her cheek and slides between her teeth.



Is it time to die?