I was dragged through the underbrush with a hand over my mouth. I remember struggling but my efforts seemed as ineffective as that poor moth's wings had been my hand as I had swiped it away.

Then I was thrown on the ground. I tried to get up, but my assailant's iron grip kept me from moving. I tried to kick and bite; I twisted and turned, ignoring the books digging into my back. Everything I tried was impotent. He let me struggle, yet never gave an inch. I knew it was useless. He was so strong. He was unbelievably strong. I was completely overpowered. I gave up and lay there. I could feel adrenaline rushing through my veins and my heart pounding in my ears. The mobilization of my body did nothing. I was defenseless.

Finally, my attacker spoke. His voice sounded amused and the thought sent more terror rushing through me, if that was even a possibility at that point. "This will hurt."

I felt a sharp pain in my neck and warmth and liquid pain. He had his mouth on the place that hurt and I was so shocked I did not even try to struggle. Of all the horrible imaginings that had flashed through my mind as I fled, I had never imagined what he was doing in that moment.

Then he moved back and said casually, in a voice tinged lightly with some unknown accent, "I love it when your heart pounds so frantically. Your fear makes your blood come out so much faster."

Finally I found my voice, "What the hell do you think you are, a vampire?" I tried to sound flippant but it was more like a pitiful squeak.

He chuckled. It sent fear running up and down my spine. "Don't you know that vampires are just a myth?" he asked me.

"Don't you?" I returned in a stronger voice. I still felt afraid, but felt heartened by the fact I was able to talk back to him. It seemed he was not going to kill me, at least he was not going to kill me yet. It was awful, but there were much worse things that could have happened. There was worse that might still happen if I did not figure out a way to get myself away from this psychotic vampire creep.

"Of course I'm aware of that, silly girl." He chuckled again. "Do I seem like a vampire to you?"

I glared at him even though he could not see it, especially because he could not see it. "You drank my blood."

"No more than a little taste, princess. Would you like to call me Count Dracula now? Do I seem like the living dead? I'm warm. My heart beats, just like yours. Well, perhaps not as fast as yours right now. You're terrified and ready to flee at any moment, but when you feel secure, we are very much the same." He paused and amended, "And very different, at the same time."

I did not answer and he did not say anything else. I waited, because there was nothing else I could do. I could attempt to escape, which would surely end in failure, overpowered as I was. He was stronger and faster. My best chance lay in waiting for my opportunity to present itself, so I continued to do so. I stayed very still, trying not to further draw his attention, willing him to let down his guard.

After a while he moved. I could hear him doing something but I could not see what it was in the darkness. Then he was touching my neck where he had injured me and I flinched. He was rubbing something warm and wet and sticky on the spot he had bit me, probably my own blood. It made me uncomfortable but I could not move away even if I tried. Then he released me abruptly and stood up.

"Well, I'm finished with you. Have a good life, little girl. Give my regards to Paul."

He was gone as suddenly as he had attacked me in the beginning. I sat in the dirty leaves feeling stunned. I had no idea who he was referring to, but at that moment I could not summon the energy to care. I stumbled to my feet and started crashing through the low bushes in the general direction I had thought we had come. Like a wounded animal, I just wanted to crawl into a familiar and safe place to hide.

After a few minutes of crashing around, I was forced to admit I had no idea where I was. All I could see were vague dark shapes with little definition against a dark sky. I could see no light. I knew the woods were not very big so how could there be no light? I pushed aside the ridiculous feeling that all the light had gone out in the world. I just had to walk straight and I would come out somewhere.

I pushed on and all the while I despaired. It was my weakest moment. I could not help but remember how easy things were when I had been following my father's plan. If I had not ran away, this very minute I would be in a dorm room in another city, far from the frightening things which were happening to me. My biggest worry would be my coming midterms or maybe boyfriend troubles or perhaps worrying about my father's disapproval at something I had done, or failed to do. My bills would be paid, my future well planned and secure. Stupid, unwelcome tears started leaking out of my eyes. I swiped them back with an angry hand.

And then I was stabbed by a rogue twig in the eye. I ripped the offending tree branch off in a surge of rage and threw it on the ground. My eye injury did not feel serious, but it was the final painful indignity. I sunk down to the ground and lost total control of myself. A part of me knew it was unwise to remain in this place, but I also felt certain that my weird assailant had finished with me. Even if he was not, it would be nearly impossible for him to find me in the dark woods. I lay on my side, like an infant and cried silently, my hand over my sore eye socket, my neck throbbing where the freak had hurt me.

"Seems you're having difficulty?" asked a man's voice through the darkness.

I leapt to my feet and moved away. I was startled. I was afraid. It was a different person yet somehow his voice still reminded me of my assailant's. Maybe it was something in the tone, something in the way that his accent tinged his words. I felt suspicious terror that another stranger had found me in these woods. It was too much to be a coincidence. I would have guessed he was related to the first man, even if my instincts had not been screaming the truth at me. I made my voice hard to hide my fear and I continued to edge away from him. "No, I'm fine."

"Are you lost?" His voice was flat and unemotional.

"No." There was no way I was going to admit any weakness to this stranger.

He was quiet for a minute; then spoke almost carelessly, "I'll lead you out. Why are you out here in the woods?"

"I was attacked by some weird creep," I said harshly, trying to sound tough. I tried to convey the idea that I would not put up with any more of the same. That I had easily survived. That I was ready to fight.

He was quiet for a long moment and then asked in a voice which sounded as if he were finally interested, "Who was it?"

I was irritated and afraid and upset all at once. I wanted to be at home. I wanted a locked door between me and these strange people and an uncertain world. I did not want this new threat to know how shook up I was. I did not want to be interrogated by insensitive strangers. What business was it of his? Pure sarcasm came to my rescue, "Funny, he didn't seem inclined to share any personal information with me. I wonder why?"

He ignored my snarky response. "What did he look like?"

"How the hell would I know? It was dark. I forgot to put on my night vision goggles." I took a deep breath and added, "I'm tired. I'm leaving."

I started to march away.

"You're going deeper into the trees," he pointed out calmly.

I swore under my breath and turned to make a wide circle to circumvent his position. I could hear him following me. I tried to be silent, but it was nearly impossible. I had almost no vision and the leaves under my feet were dry enough to crunch with each step in spite of my best efforts. I was tired of scary strangers following me. He did not seem to want to attack me, but I was not so much of a fool to trust him, either.

I turned my head in the direction I heard him walking and said, "So, who are you?" It would be all the better to have more information to tell the police when I called them.

"No one important," he said; his voice was very flat.

"That's not an answer," I responded, my voice shaking. I was definitely distraught when I needed to be calm and in control.

He sighed as if I were some sort of troublesome pest. As if any of this were my fault. "I'm called Paul."

"Paul?" I repeated, hearing the name an echo in my abductor's voice.

"It's not so uncommon," he said.

I was stunned although perhaps I should not have been. He said the name was not so uncommon but it was still too much to be coincidence. "The guy who attacked me told me to give his regards to someone. Someone with the same name as you."

"How odd," he said dryly. "What did he do to you?"

I really did not know what to make of my insensitive companion, but I found myself answering, "He bit me, I think..."

"He bit you. Did he do anything else?"

"I think he drank some of my blood." I felt angry at my unknown assailant and perhaps also at my current insensitive questioner. I much preferred the anger to fear, so I allowed it to burn and grow.

"Drank your blood? But, let me ask you, did he put any of his blood into you? Even a small amount?"

I remembered him rubbing something warm and sticky on my neck. I had thought it was my blood he was rubbing on me, but could it have been his blood instead? "Maybe."

My skin crawled as I thought about this new revelation. It had not occurred to me that might have been what he had been doing and I felt more violated than I had before when I had assumed he had been simply torturing me.

Thankfully, light came into view. I surged ahead, thrilled at the sight. I rushed forward. My foot caught on an above-ground root and I fell forward, sprawling in the damp leaves. I had used my hands and knees to stop my fall and they all hurt to varying degrees. I had protected my face, but my eye and my neck still hurt and those were only my physical ills.

"Here," Paul said and he reached out and helped me up by my arm. "Are you quite alright?"

"I'm fine," I lied. My condition was none of his concern.

He did not comment, but started walking with his hand still on my arm. Soon enough we were out of the trees and I was back on the path. I had never been so happy to see a poorly maintained path in my life. I was on my way to see the wizard at last.

Instead of running as I should have, I looked back at Paul by the lights of the path. He was taller than me with a solid frame and dark hair. I could not make out much else.

"Which way is your home?" he asked after a considerable pause.

There was no way I was leading this Paul the stalker to my door. "It's fine. I can make it home on my own."

His voice sounded hard, "It's obviously unsafe for you to be out here alone."

I glared at him, but I doubted he could see. "I'll be fine."

"Suit yourself," he said. I turned towards home and began walking away as quickly as I could.

"Wait," Paul called out. In spite of my intentions, I paused and listened.

"I didn't know if I should tell you this, but it seems unfair not to. Yet I am not certain that you would want to know."

I could not help myself. I blame my father. "What is it?"

"You're going to die."

"Is that a threat?" I asked; my voice stuck in my throat.

"No. What he did to you tonight will kill you." Paul's tone was so dispassionate I could not register what it was he was talking about. It was not natural, being so calm when talking about the death of someone. How could he be so callous if it were true?

Then my mind finally processed that he was serious. I did not really believe it. "You're joking."

I saw his head shake, before he answered. "No, I am not. I'm sorry, but there is nothing I can do but advise you to use your last weeks in such a way that you do not experience additional regret when they end."

I felt a whole kaleidoscope of feelings rush through me, uncertain fear and hopeful disbelief. What remained when the pieces stopped was impotent anger mixed with morbid curiosity. I could not help but ask, "Why am I going to die?"

"I'm sorry, but I cannot tell you more, I fear," he said and his words rang false. My anger surged at the pathetic apology. I was going to tell him as much when he turned and began to walk back to the trees. His dismissive actions brushed my deepest wounds. I raged.

"If you say I'm really going to die, I want to know why!" I yelled after him. He did not answer. I wanted to run after him and demand answers but when I recalled the events of the evening I felt myself freeze. Before I had recovered, he had disappeared into the darkness.

I finally ran home and locked the door behind me. I collapsed onto my bed. Blessed as I am with the ability and drained as I felt, I fell asleep almost immediately.