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Webby: Carmaletta |
| The Rundown |
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Birthday: November 25, 1978 |
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| Weekly Fanfic Excerpt |
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From my General Hospital fanfic, Epidemic AJ Quartermaine was wobbly on his feet. Not something his family wasn’t used to seeing, but this time, he could say for a fact that it wasn’t because he was drunk. He hadn’t had a drink in years, and he damn sure wasn’t about to start doing it now. Not if he could help it. Hell, he wouldn’t even take Nyquil because of the alcohol content in the nighttime sniffling, sneezing, coughing, achy, stuffy head so you can rest medicine. That should have showed them that he was trying to stay as sober as possible. But as Ned Ashton looked at him, AJ knew his cousin was wondering. Had he felt his head, Ned would have seen that AJ had a fever. Inside, AJ felt so cold that he knew his skin had to be burning up. But Ned looked at him like he was drunk, or he was going through withdrawals. Not that this didn’t feel a lot like going through detox, but it wasn’t the same thing. He was sick, and he needed someone to drive him to the hospital. AJ wondered where Emily was. She would have taken him. She would have taken a good look at him, felt his forehead, and known that he wasn’t doing well. She would have known that he needed medical treatment, that he wasn’t drunk. She was the only person in the whole damn family that didn’t automatically look at him and think liquor. She gave him the benefit of the doubt, even when she shouldn’t have. Now, though, was a time when he needed that benefit. “I’m not—“ AJ’s words faltered as he tried to push himself up from the chair. He wobbled, thought that he would fall, but managed to keep himself standing on shaky legs. “I’m not drunk, Ned. I’m sick.” “I’ve heard that before.” Ned shook his head. “You always have a reason—“ “You know what? I don’t need you.” He started to cross the floor, his arms out from his body in an attempt at balance. “I can get myself there.” “What are you gonna do? Drive? Get in another accident?” “Ten years! Christ, Ned, it’s been ten years. Jason doesn’t even hate me for it, but you—“ AJ shook his head. “Forget it. I’ll just call somebody.” His voice started to fade. His sight was blurry, his vision double. He tried to focus on the table with the phone, trying to force the double objects into one. “I’ll just call—“ AJ made it two more steps, his arm stretched in front of him before he fell. Halfway down, his body turned. The back of his head hit the hard edge of the sofa before he collapsed into an unconscious heap onto the floor. |
| Weekly Original Fiction Excerpt |
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From Vampire Nation I had never killed anyone before. I always took only enough to survive if I drank from a living person. Most of my life, though, I had gotten my blood from blood banks. I never wanted to hurt anyone, but dammit, these people deserved it. They would have watched us all rot, and they would have been more than happy to put us down if the order came down. Having pity on them would have been like the Jews having pity on the Nazis after overthrowing a death camp. One of us could have ended it. This didn't have to be a long drawn out fight. Neither did it have to be a carniverous cacophany of blood and strangled screams. Ambrose or I could have ended it all with one wide sweep of fire. Hell, Lainey or Foster, as I learned his name to be, could have ended it with the same sweep. For reasons as yet unexplained to us, we were all infused with the same gifts. With every gift that had been originally bestowed upon Ambrose at his vengeful birth. We could have ended it and walked out the front door. But, what fun would that have been? And where was the justice in that? I was not the only one who had been held captive. We were all victims, and we all deserved our revenge. Even the newest of the true borns, the babies, were fed. The fighting was quick and brutal. The guards never had a chance, and they knew it. But, still, they came barrelling forward, as though sheer force of will would be enough to protect them. Enough to make them victorious. It only brought them quicker to the slaughter. Throats were ripped out in squirting handfuls. I saw bodies burn. I saw bodies contort in agony. Within minutes, the actual battle was over, but the feeding… At first, they were rushed. So much time had passed since we were last allowed real, human blood that we all were swept up in the moment. Then, when it was realized that we were free to take it, everyone began to drink slowly. The babies and small children were brought from their nurseries and bedrooms. The children's unit was the worse. Lainey and I personally went to guide the children downstairs. Instead of the usual façade of serenity that wafted through that area, we walked into a den of death and destruction. Their nurses and nannies were laid all around in various stages of death. One child, with the appearance of an innocent three year old, was covered in so much blood that her blonde hair was now pink and blood dripped from her chin.
At least the babies were too small to get out of their beds. Though, a few nurses must have been holding babies or leaning over their cradles when the sun didn't rise, because there shouldn't have been twitching bodies on the floor. They weren't dead, and they weren't massacred. However, the tiny pin pricks on their skin told us that they had truly fed a baby that night.
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