 The look on everyone's faces. When I dragged her corpse out of my truck, man, that was priceless. They must have been thinking, why on earth does he have her body in his truck? Or did he dig her out? I wanted to laugh, but I was too tired to do so. Instead, I had to convince people that she came to visit me the night before and wasn't a human anymore. Of course, there was a lot of protesting and whatnot. I personally couldn't be bothered to argue. Having to deal with chemo and having blood drained out didn't really make me energetic. She was a vampire, I guess, or some other type of undead bloodsucker. My blood was poisonous to her because chemotherapy is putting poison in your body to kill cancer. I guess her kind can't handle that stuff. I'll start from the beginning. A few months back, I found out I have leukemia. Luckily, it was at an early stage, so I started treatment and here I am now. A lone vet who lives off his own pension. My early retirement had nothing to do with the cancer, it was other health issues. In all honesty, I'm certain I've done enough for the country as is. Why am I alone, man? It's a choice. I like it. I do have stuff I do to pass time, like write music and sell it to whoever's willing to buy it. I make digital art as well. That kind of stuff, you know? Anyway, now that I'm constantly feeling like shit, I'm kind of in a weird place mentally. I forget stuff long term, some details just kind of slip my mind and that's important because that's where she enters the picture. I keep saying her. Mel Dracos. That was her name. We practically grew up together, two immigrant kids from the Balkans. I guess that's why we bonded so well, because we understood each other. We stopped being friends after high school though. I moved cities and we just drifted apart. In fact, I caught off everyone from my childhood. That's just the person I am. Anyway, so one night it's raining outside, raining cats and dogs and all sorts of animal parts. I was asleep when I heard someone knocking on my door. It felt like a dream, so I ignored it for a while, but then knocking persisted. That's when I got up and checked the door. Low and behold, stood outside, drenched in rainfall. It was Mel. I hadn't seen her in 17 years or so, but she didn't age a day. A thought was gnawing at the back of my mind, but I couldn't place my finger on what it was. My mind was telling me something's wrong, but I had no idea what. Something about her just wasn't right. How she didn't age a bit. How she seemed oddly pale. The fact that her skirt was all dirtied up, copper stains all over it. We had stood at my doorstep for a few odd seconds before she asked if I was going to invite her in, which I then did. I apologized for my slower reaction, telling her my mind was hazy. She didn't seem to mind. I'm surprised she didn't say anything about me not turning on the lights. See, I'm so used to the outlay of my house, I don't even think to turn the lights on after dark. A normal person would have said something, but Mel felt almost at home in the darkness. I didn't pick up on that somehow. There was a big wet greeting hug, but I guess she noticed how exhausted I'd been and didn't press on anything. I showed her the house after throwing a couple of towels at her. I promised to make up for the lost time the next day and I went back to bed. I was out pretty quickly, but I woke up a few times during the night and I'm sure I heard her doing stuff, being awake the whole night, that is. I remember waking up just before sunrise and she was reading a book with a candle. I found that weird, so I just asked, why the candle? She looked at me, smiling, and told me she liked it that way. Her eyes were almost red at that moment. I was sure my mind was playing tricks on me, so I just ignored it and I went back to sleep. I woke up the next afternoon and she was asleep. Not wanting to wake her, I had a late breakfast and headed out to my chemo session. Like I mentioned before, my memory is a mess, so I forgot my phone at home. When I came back, Mel was nowhere in sight. Her backpack was near the couch, but I couldn't find her anywhere. I assumed she was out or something. Slumped down on the couch, I looked at the messages I'd received while I was out. One caught my attention in particular. It read, Andy. I know we haven't spoken in years, but today is the 15th anniversary of Mel's passing. It would be really nice if you could come to pay her some respects today. From Ed. I sat there, tensing my body, reading the text over and over until it finally sunk in on the 12th round or so. My head started spinning, my stomach turned, and I nearly dropped my phone. It finally hit me. The memory, that is, Mel was dead. She was supposed to be dead. For sure. There was a car crash. It was fatal. Drums were pounding in my ears and my vision darkened. I was feeling myself about to pass out. I sank into the couch and stared upwards. There she was, a look of pure hunger in her eyes. I'm so sorry, she said softly, and after that, everything turned black. I woke up with a terrible headache. I was lying on my bed with my right arm bandaged. Pulling myself into a sitting position was hard enough. Seeing Mel sitting across from me with a blood bag in her mouth didn't help. I'm sorry, Andy. I'm so sorry. She said while she suckled on that blood bag like her life depended on it. What the hell's going on, Mel? I questioned, rubbing the back of my head. I was so, so hungry. I'm so sorry, bud. I made sure to be very careful with you. I can't help it sometimes. She pleaded. Uh, you could have asked. Should have just explained yourself and asked, what is all this anyway? You're supposed to be, uh, dead. I questioned. My stomach twisted and turned as I tried staying put in my position. My body felt like a cheese grater was traveling through me. I was feeling like absolute shit at that moment. Well, I am a vrycolicus, she said. It's, uh, oh wow, you look terrible. I'm so sorry. Did I drain too much? She ran over to me, placing her cold hand on my face as if to support my head. I looked into her eyes and smiled. Nah, it's the chemo. She rose to her feet and took a step back. Her expression went solemn. Her gleaming reddish brown eyes turned almost colorless. She dropped the blood bag and uttered something incoherent before screaming out and clutching at her throat and chest. She fell to her knees before the rest of her body collapsed to the floor. Her mouth emitted awful choking sounds as she desperately grabbed at her throat. I felt bad for her as she withered and convulsed violently on the floor. I wanted to help, but I knew it was probably too late as her body shriveled up with her bones protruding against her skin and her veins turning black and painfully visible under her porcelain skin. In a matter of moments, she was gone. Cataracts clouded her once charming brown eyes. Dark blood poured out through her blue lips, a map of her vascular system painfully painted across her pale form. I pulled myself up and grabbed my phone after hobbling over the still corpse of my vampire friend. I texted Edgar telling him I'd see him at the cemetery. The look on everyone's faces when I dragged her corpse out of my truck. Man, that was priceless. Their faces were even more amusing when I jammed the steak into her heart. I said I was doing this just in case, not trusting my chemically enhanced blood to be poisonous enough to keep her down for good. I guess that's why I like to be alone because of things like this. It wouldn't surprise me if nobody is going to invite me to any other anniversary ever again.