This is dedicated to all of you. you know who you are, because I've either proposed or expressed my undying love and adoration. Thanks for being patient.

Warning: I halfheartedly sprinkled some caps in here, so Mariposafria could stop judging me about it.. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. and the title derives from Keats' La Belle Dame sans Merci

I did not know then what she was. But I do now.

It was a normal day at Mckinley High School, when I first saw her.

Her hair so dark, against her milk chocolate complexion. With red, red lips the color of fresh blood.

I entered the choir room, curious as to who the breathtaking girl standing in the front of the room was.

My eyes wandered over that full mouth, over her flawless skin and up to her eyes, only to find that she was already staring at me.

Her dark brown eyes flashed to coal black, even as her redder than blood mouth stretched into a blindingly white smile.

My heart constricted in absolute terror but I could not look away.

At first I thought I must have been seeing things, for what I had just witnessed was unnatural. and yet, I did not say a word.

Not then, nor now.

Mr Shuester introduced her to the class. Her name was Mercedes Jones. and her eyes never left my green ones.

It was as if she was staring into my soul. As if she was sizing me up, and found me adequate.

My heartbeat quickened, but I could not look away.

She came to me that night. As I laid drifting off to sleep.

I opened my eyes to find her standing at the foot of my bed, with that same smile.

I realized then how predatory it was.

She did not say a word. and I couldn't find my voice to ask her ' how ?' or 'why?'

She silently let her white dress drop to floor. Naked, as she stepped closer to me. and I found myself unable to move.

"I'm hungry, Sam" she whispered in a haunting tone.
Her teeth seemed sharper as she edged closer. Impossibly sharp.

"I- I could make you a sandwich" I offered nervously.

She simply continued smiling. Her lips so red, her eyes so black.

She slipped her hand under my shirt,pushing it up to my neck, as she straddled me.

My eyes were wide with fear but I made no sound of protest. I had to see where this was going.

"Will you feed me, Sam?" she asked in that same seducing tone.

Her smooth brown body pressed against mine and I was lost in a sea of her.

I barely nodded before her pretty white teeth fastened to the pulse on my throat.

The pain was searing and I cried out in pain. Her small hand slid into my boxers and began stroking my traitorous erection.

My cries quieted down to soft moans, all the while she feasted.

I do not remember much after that, except waking up to my empty bedroom, as the sun streamed through it.

I thought I had dreamed the whole thing until I touched my jugular and felt a small faded scar.

A scar that was not there before, but felt like I had it for years.

I saw her in school that day.

her lips even redder than before. her eyes cold and bottomless.

She put her finger to her lips, when she saw me looking at her. My face paled as she grinned her lecherous grin.

Noone else seemed to notice.

She came to me again that night. This time she didn't pretend to ask as she peeled back the sheets covering my body.

I opened my mouth to protest but she looked at me, with those dark, menacing eyes. and I fell silent.

Straddling me once again, She eased my hardened shaft into her, as she slowly rode me . I moaned softly as my eyes fluttered shut.

That night she fed on my chest. right above my left nipple. Sinking her razor sharp teeth,deep into my flesh.

All that was left the next morning was another faded scar.

I knew then I should have said something. But I didn't.

I knew I should have barred my windows or doors. or salt the windowsill. anything to keep her out. But I didn't.

She came to me night after night. Sampling from different parts of my body until I was covered in tiny old scars, that none would notice unless looking for it.

I had finally felt strong enough to say something to her.

After months of her owning me,taking from me with nary a word shared between us.
Perhaps in school, amongst witnesses.

But she was not there that day. and she did not come to me that night. nor any other day after that.

I was bereft, and I could tell noone. Mercedes Jones came and went and noone else seemed to notice.

Perhaps she moved on to find another victim or maybe she was only a figment of my imagination.

Regardless,I still find myself waiting for her, each and every night.