'Cause I don't think I'd survive. And if I don't survive then I cannot function. And if I do not function, then how can I ever blog??? So, no. The shooting would be a bad decision on your part, readers. Assuming that you all want me to keep blogging, which I do. On that note, I'm going to make excuses like I'd been caught cheating.
The one who changed me named me Risika, and Risika I became, though I never asked what it meant. I continue to call myself Risika, even though I was transformed into what I am against my will.
By day, Risika sleeps in a shaded room in Concord, Massachusettts. By night, she hunts the streets of New York City. She is used to being alone.
But now someone is following Risika. Someone has left her a black rose, the same sort of rose that sealed her fate three hundred years ago.
Three hundred years ago Risika had a family — a brother and a sister who loved her. Three hundred years ago she was human.
Now she is a vampire, a powerful one. And her past has come back to torment her.