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This fanon page or story is still being developed and will change over time.

I'm sorry if this bears any resemblance to Twilight. This has everything to do with The Sims 2 and The Sims 3, including their expansion packs. Some things cannot happen in Sim universe.

Section 1: EarlyEdit

I cannot remember a time in my human life that I felt extraordinary. I lost my favorite grandmother at age ten. My parents died when I was seventeen. That last year before I became a Young Adult, I lived with the Alvi family. I describe it as a horrendous experience. Mental and physical abuse brought on by Iqbal and VJ nearly killed me. Being deprived of food and sleep drove me to insanity. School and little Miraj Alvi gave me comfort. VJ worked at the graveyard and never came home to sleep. Iqbal was always at some woman's house, scheming her.

My only chances at food were school and the hour of free time I had each day after school. I guess I could count Miraj as a food source. When able, he slipped me some of the produce he grew in his garden. On drearier days, like the times after Iqbal slapped me for breathing, he gave me muffins and pieces of cake and pie that he baked with his toy oven. On a few occasions, he even gave me leftovers from the fridge. I remember the happiness I felt when I graduated and celebrated my eighteenth birthday. I remember screaming with laughter and crying because I was glad. I was free. I would no longer endure torture.

Section 2: CrushedEdit

I collected the rest of my inheritance and bought a small house a few blocks away from the Alvi house, since I wanted to keep my money for future uses. I sold the crappier things and used the money and dipped into my funds to make my tiny little house more livable. After a few weeks of installing, repainting, and cleaning, I decided to grab a job. Back then, jobs in Sunset Valley were as hard to get as diamonds. Everybody seized a chance to work, even the richest.

After a few days of looking through the newspaper and reading countless job ads, I applied for a job as a Kitchen Scullion at the Little Corsican Bistro. The pay was §150 a day, which seemed like a lot. But I worked only Wednesdays and Thursdays, so that was §300 a week, barely enough for food and bills. Plus the cooking classes I took, which were §400 a class. So I took up writing, painting, nectar-making, and sculpting.

I scraped a large income out of those activities. I thought that finally I was stable enough, financially, to start looking for love. I started hanging out at the park and befriending people at work. I even came across Ethan Bunch, who I thought had moved to Starlight Shores. We rekindled our old friendship and spent many the nights at my house, talking and laughing. I thought that I had found my soulmate. We started dating. I felt so happy because of him. But our love wasn't meant to be. Ethan started suffering mass tragedies. His younger sister, Lisa, died giving birth to VJ Alvi's son. The baby was given to VJ, who quickly moved to Riverview to live in recluse.

Then his youngest sister, Darlene, caught the flu and died shortly after. Ethan's brother, Arlo, moved to Starlight Shores to pursue a career as a Mixologist. That left him to care for his aging parents, Jack and Judy. Jack was nearing the end of elderhood and so was Judy. Any day now, they could die. One day, Arlo said that he fell into great debt and sold Peep's Peak, their house, to pay the debt. Ethan and his parents had to move to Starlight Shores to live with Arlo. We knew that our romance could never survive such a long distance. We WooHooed for the first time the night before he left. The next morning, I tested for pregnancy. I wasn't carrying Ethan's child. There was no reason for him to stay. Whatsoever.

Section 3: HimEdit

So I lived alone, depressed. I was promoted to Spice Runner, making §194 a day. Same work hours and days. I recieved my pension from being Kitchen Scullion of §40 the next day. A hangout was built for single people like me. I decided to go there. That was where I met......him.

I dressed nicely, but not like church clothing or the sort. I drove to the hangout. Venus was what it was called. It was a hotel/club. I parked and walked in. Soft music filled the room. Tables laid scattered near a large self-serve kitchen and several bars. Couches, loveseats, and recliners were lined away from the eating area, each facing a flatscreen mounted to the wall or a bookshelf.

I could not help but gag a little when I first stepped in. Scantily clad women, some that I knew, sauntered everywhere. Many men where drunk and lots of them where climbing the stairs or taking the elevator with arms wrapped around ladies while laughing their heads off. I made myself a cup of chai and sat at an isolated empty table. I noticed that the remaining men where eyeing me. I saw an aging Iqbal Alvi glancing at me every two seconds as he talked to a pretty Holly Alto. But one person that really caught my eye was the dashing pale stranger who was staring at me with intent.

He was lounging carelessly on a dark red sofa. His posture indicated carefree boyishness. His chocolate brown hair was straight and messy. What really captivated me was the hungry look in his bloodred eyes. It was like a homeless man if you suddenly invited him to a five-star hotel. The look sent shivers down my spine. I sipped the rest of my chai quickly and disposed of the cup. The stranger got up and strolled to my side.

"Hey. What's your name? You look nice this evening," he purred. His voice was velvety and rich and deep. "Liana," I whispered breathlessly. His beauty was breathtaking. His perfectness was a little despairing. "What a beautiful name. It suits a gorgeous creature like yourself," he complemented. I couldn't reply. I could only stand powerless as his ruby eyes held my heart and my gaze. "My looks are glasses of water and yours are goblets of the richest wine," I recited. It was from a romance book that my mother had read to me when I was twelve years old.

"Such poetic words from a flower as young as you are. Where are my manners? I haven't properly introduced myself. My name is Jackson. Jackson Howard," he told me. Suddenly, there was a tap on my shoulder. I turned around. A young woman about my age glared at me. She was one of his kind. Her skin was paler than snow and her heavily shadowed eyes were a deep bloody red. Her lips were the same color as her eyes. She was beautiful.

"I believe that's my date you're flirting with," she snapped in a high pitched voice. Even with the hard edge of irratation, her voice was like liquid silk. "Oh, sorry," I apologized. I stepped back as she slithered into Jackson's arms. Then they stepped into the elevator with Iqbal and Holly. I looked at the clock. It was 1:47 a.m. I didn't take a chance at driving home. I stumbled into the next elevator. I wished I hadn't. River McIrish and Michael Bachelor looked like they were eating each other's face. I left at the first floor and took the stairs. I climbed and climbed until I reached the last floor. It was 2:58 in the morning.

Section 4: ConfusionEdit

I didn't even bother changing. I locked the door and fell on the fluffy bed. I remember music pouring into the room. Pop music. I heard a TV go on and the sound of screams from the horror movie. Nice date, I thought. I didn't pay much attention to it. Then I heard some murmuring and a gentle thud, like something heavy had fallen onto the thick carpet. There was a light whimper and another thud on the floor, this one louder and harder than before.

I awoke the next morning. My clothes wouldn't do. I rummaged through the small dresser at the foot of the bed. I changed into a tee and shorts and slid on some flip flops. I combed my brown hair and tied it into a messy ponytail. Then I set off, shoving my clothes in the washer in the hotel laundry room.

I went down into the lobby to get breakfast when I saw Jackson again. He was at a table, sitting with the lovely girl again. I rushed past their table and made some tea and sat down near their table and sipped it slowly. I could hear their conversation. Both of their melodic voices were consumed with anger. "I know, Celia. But what we did last night was really bad. We could've been caught!" Jackson's voice argued hotly. The girl, Celia, cackled softly and tsked. "Oh Jackson! You are such a coward. We weren't caught and you had the best night of your inhuman life," she hissed. Inhuman life? Back then, I didn't believe in the supernatural.

I looked down and began to drink my tea slower, concentrating on the heated and interesting argument eruptting in front of me. Jackson's pale and perfect face crunched into a frown. "It's not about the rush that I felt. We just did a deed so.......dispicable, that I hate myself," he whispered furiously. His eyes, now the color of redwood trees, glowed with a panicked light. Celia's twisted smile winked out. Her beautiful face became distorted. Anger was deeply etched into her face. "Hate yourself for pleasuring yourself? For doing what we were made to do? Then why don't you just cure yourself? Cease vampirism?" she asked angrily.

Back then, I didn't know what vampirism was. I knew what vampires were. I knew them as pale, bluish-skinned demons with glowing red eyes and an unquenchable desire for plasma. I thought about what Celia said. If Jackson was a vampire, I better avoid him. Then, a thought came to me. The thuds I had heard outside my door. They had been Jackson and Celia, feeding on two unfortunate lovebirds.

Section 5: AvoidingEdit

Over the next few months, I steered clear of Venus. But I always found my mind going back to that argument. I thought that Jackson couldn't be a vampire. I knew, or at least thougt, that vampires had bluish-purplish skin, neatly combed hair, and eyes redder than rubies. They also had jagged fangs. Jackson only held two of those traits. His skin was a smooth snowy color, like the insides of a coconut. His hair was far from neatly combed. His eyes, always a different color, were never far from red. They were always close, like the bloodred I'd seen the first time I saw him and the auburn I'd last seen him with.

After so many months, I decided to go to Venus again for at least another night. I drove up to Venus and parked behind a gigantic overgrown shrub. I entered and was slightly amazed that the foyer was mainly empty. I saw Celia draped across a red velvet loveseat. She was napping and she looked nearly harmless. Nearly.

Jackson was no where near. I went to make myself something from the bar and carried it to a tiny table behind an ornamental plant. I sipped it and was almost