Me Myself: what are you waiting for. Just publish it.

So, I watched this movie for the first time right before Halloween, GOT OBSESSED, and wrote this during Nano. It's all Alexandra's fault. So therefore, that's why it takes place in late November. Sorry about the seasonal mix-up. And Merry Christmas, I'm gonna post the first TWO chapters! Please let me know what you think :)

Fair warning: I do use Language in this story. I try not to do it gratuitously, but when I do use it, I feel that it fits the themes going on that I'm dealing with. And there's violence later. But if you're watching Lost Boys, I'm going to assume that you can deal with both those things. Just be advised.

Therefore, Dark Past

The trailer slowed and turned more often now. We must have left the interstate. In the dark, I fumbled for the water bottle in our nest of blankets and sloshed the water left inside. Only about an inch or two.

I searched for Bree's hand. "Thirsty?"

"No, I have to pee," she whispered, the tiredness creeping into her voice.

I sighed. "Come on, then."

"I hate that port-a-potty," she whispered brokenly. "It stinks."

"We've been in here for three days. It would." After three days of darkness, we were both fraying at the seams.

As the trailer bumped and bounced, I helped her up and felt around for the small portable toilet that Vivian and Andre had left for us. "Here we go," I said, handing her the toilet paper wedged in the corner. In our miserable five feet by eight feet existence, I waited braced against the wall as she did her business and pushed the flush mechanism on the port-a-potty.

Bree was right; it did stink. Emptying the toilet wasn't something Vivian and Andre deemed important enough to open our trailer for. The oscillating fan brought in more oxygen for ventilation, but never seemed able to get rid of the smell.

"Where do you think we're going?" Bree whispered as we lay down in our nest again.

"West," I said, remembering the direction we had set out in three days ago. "Though we might be anywhere now."

"Who do you think we're going to?"

"I don't know," I replied woodenly. "We never see them again, so it can't be anybody we know." I unscrewed the water and swallowed the lukewarm liquid. "You want some now?"

Bree took the bottle, and I heard her drink. "I'm so damn tired of this," she whispered. "I want to die."

"You and me both," I agreed. But we couldn't die. They wouldn't let us. Not yet.

"Yo, Maxy," Paul said as the boys swung into the back room of the shop after midnight. The boardwalk was shutting down, and the video store had closed early.

"'Sup, Maxy!" Marko called, grinning. David and Dwayne just sauntered in with smirks on their faces.

"Sometimes I despair of you boys," Max muttered, rolling his eyes and putting down his dusting rag.

The boys exchanged glances, and David sighed, knowing that his pack was itching to feed after playing for most of the night. "Why did you call us down here, Max?" he said, eyeing their sire.

"Your night activities are getting a little… public," Max said, with a little acid in his voice.

David decided to tread carefully. Max was mild most of the time, but when he was angry, he was a force to be reckoned with. "We took care of that beach incident."

"And the thing with the car and that dude," Paul chimed in.

Dwayne punched him. Justifiably, David thought. He should have kept his big mouth shut.

"Hey, what —" Paul exclaimed as Marko came to his defense, swinging at Dwayne.

"Settle down," Max snapped with steel in his voice.

The boys let go of each other, disgruntled.

"This is what I'm talking about," Max continued, lip curling slightly. "Youthful high spirits is very well for the first few years, as well as the blood and carnage. But eventually you need to learn manners."

"Ohh, manners," Marko mumbled, and Paul, never down for long, mimed sipping tea with his pinky out.

"Decorum and control," Max said, shooting a look at them.

David glared the boys into submission. Max was having one of his testy nights; it wouldn't do to needle him further. "So?" he asked.

"I have some… old friends coming to town," Max said, turning and unpacking videos to stock the next night.

David exchanged looks with Dwayne, who raised an eyebrow. The only old friends Max had were those of their kind, and so far, he had never introduced them to the boys.

"They'll be here tonight, so once they're settled in, I'm taking you boys for a visit. They teach young vampires control. I'm sure that you'll do your best to be very attentive and make me proud." He straightened and looked at them over his glasses.

The boys shifted awkwardly until David said, "Sure. Just say when and where."

"Tomorrow night, after dusk. Meet me here and you can follow me to where they're staying." Seeing the annoyed and unhappy looks on the boys' faces, Max added, "It won't be as bad as you think. Their teaching methods are… unique. And quite enjoyable. You'll see."

The house was big, with a huge, fully furnished basement. Plenty of room for sleeping quarters for Vivian and Andre, plus a place to lock us in.

"Look at it this way," Bree said, whispering so they wouldn't hear us through the door of our room. "There's a real bathroom connected! Our very own! And a window!" she said rapturously. "Sealed, of course, but it's a window well with light that will come in!" She smiled, her brown face nearly glowing. An impressive feat after months with no sun and a lowered immune system.

"I'm a fan of this real mattress," I said, laying back on the double bed's ugly bedspread and sighing. It was a far cry from the three-room hunting cabin in the Colorado mountains where we were shut into what felt like a large walk in closet, or that temporary-turned-month-long stop in a sleezy motel in one of the Dakotas. "Which side do you want?"

"Doesn't matter, Riss," Bree said absently, opening our duffel bags and pulling out her few clothes. "You pick." She opened the wardrobe and hung up her two dresses, putting shirts and sweaters in the drawers. "Where do you want your clothes?"

"Leave 'em," I said, staring at the ceiling. "I don't care."

Bree pushed her black curls out of her face. "Come on, Riss." She picked up my jeans and t-shirts and put them in the drawers, hanging up my sweaters. "I'm putting all the underwear in this top drawer here."

"Fine." I didn't care how I looked or what I wore. It drove Vivian and Andre crazy, and I didn't give a shit what their clients thought. I twisted my blond hair around my finger. I did want a shower though. "Is there shampoo?"

"Go check," Bree said, stuffing the duffel in the back of the wardrobe.

I swung my legs off the bed and cracked my back, wincing at the bruise still on my abdomen. "Yep," I said, opening the bathroom door and staring into the shower stall. "Shampoo, conditioner, lotion, shaving cream, face wash…."

Bree sat down on the bed. "And it's private. We can take all the time we want while they're sleeping. We can —"

The lock turned in the door and she froze, mouth snapping shut. I leaned in the bathroom doorway and tapped into my rage, the only thing that allowed me to be numb in their presence.

Vivian stepped through the door, a smile plastered on her beautiful face. "I hope you girls like your new room," she said, smiling and waiting.

Bree smiled nervously. "It's beautiful; we love it. Thank you, Vivian."

Vivian turned expectantly to me. I stared at her until Bree looked at me anxiously. "Yes," I finally replied. "Thank you, Vivian." She always did this. Like being in nice places with good amenities made it better that we were prisoners.

"Did you see the mini-fridge?"

"What?" Bree said, sitting up straight.

"It's in the nightstand." Vivian pointed with one long red nail. "Under the lamp. There are sodas and snacks in there for you. You girls rest up, now," she said with a smile. "We have visitors tomorrow." She shut the door with a soft click, and the new deadbolt lock swung home.

Bree clasped her hands. "Maybe it won't be as bad this time," she said with hope, the worst kind of poison, in her voice. But I knew better.

Bree was relatively new; her smiles still begged the clients not to hurt her. She still prayed at night. She hadn't seen Allison bleed to death with some bastard's fangs in her neck, or Rachel's neck snapped from one of Andre's uncontrollable rages. She hadn't begged God for nearly a year for help, for death, for anything. This place was too far from God; He couldn't hear me.

This was hell, and I had no hope left.