Melisande Again - II

Melisande Again - II

However, her face fell in dismal. A gas station. She thought, as the driver’s side door slammed shut. The impact caused the entire body of the vehicle to shake. She noticed that the smell diminished slightly after the farmer had exited the truck. He must have been working before.
The truck shook again, as the farmer tore open the door and took his seat. Within a minute, they were back on the road again.
The rest of the ride was just as, if not less, eventful as the trip prior. Melisande spent the time staring at the windshield, counting the insects that met their demise on the glass sheet that flew towards them at 80 miles per hour. At roughly 5:00 o’ clock in the evening, Melisande could see the outline of a city approaching on the horizon. The scattered farms and houses they passed became more and more numerous as they neared the town, until they stopped at the city limits sign. Melisande sat for a moment, pondering on whether she was to get out, or if the farmer had simply decided to stop. She slid her hand towards the door’s handle, and pulled. The man next to her showed no signs of protest, so she opened the door and climbed out. Standing on the side of the road once again, she watched as in a cloud of dust, the truck wheeled around and charged down the road. Choking from the fumes, she turned and walked into the city.
It was getting dark, and Melisande was tired. After all, she hadn’t slept for at least 40 hours. The sun had gone down by now, and the neon fluorescent lights of the city began to glow, filling the air with their low hum. One in particular sparked Melisande’s interest: a large, red glass with a blue straw coming from the top. She realized she hadn’t eaten or drunken anything the entire day as well. Could it have had something to do with being a vampire? But if she had been one prior to last night, she wouldn’t have eaten at all since she became one. Perhaps it was because of the breakdown she had had earlier. Or maybe, she thought darkly, it was because she had drunk blood and didn’t need to eat again yet. Nevertheless, she entered the restaurant.
Inside, it was darker even than it was outside. Save for the strips of red rope lights gleaming out from under bar counters, there was little light. Deep bass pounded in Melisande’s ears from across the room, and heavy clouds of smoke hung in the air above her head. She took a seat on one of the silvery red barstools and leaned against her elbows. For all everyone there knew, she was in the same situation as the other dozens of bar patrons drinking their depressions away. Unlike them however, Melisande was never fond of drink. The bittersweet taste of alcohol never appealed to her. The only drinks I like are Bloody Marys. She thought darkly. The bartender had been watching her impatiently.
“Water.” She said, glancing about the room. Her eyes had adjusted fairly well to the dark lighting, and she now noticed the windows in the front were painted black, so as to let as little light as possible into the building. She also noticed a man and a woman sitting in the corner nearest to her. They were startling alike: both had the same silver-gray eyes, light skin, and short dark hair. Both were fairly androgynous in facial features, though it was obvious easy to differ their genders apart. The pair must have noticed her staring at them, and they stared back. The woman whispered something to the man. Melisande looked back into her glass of water. A fly spun helplessly in circles, trying to escape an icy, suffocating death. Melisande tipped the glass over, spilling its contents. She could see in the empty glass’s reflection the couple staring at her, though this time their expressions slightly disgusted. The fly crept out of the spilt liquid, flaying its wings out to dry. Melisande stood. The water was free, but she left a tip anyways.
As she walked out the door, she was followed by the stony gaze of the twins.