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Francesca-1892

They drag me by the hair back to my cell. I curl into a ball in the centre of the room. There is no point in crying, no point in screaming, and no point in breathing. The scrap of paper I have hidden is wedged behind the toilet. I fetch it and my scrap of pencil. I write my last words, for I shall never speak them. I sign my name. Done. The small hatch in the door is thrust open and a plate of grey, nameless substances is pushed through. I will not eat it; the rats will clear the plate. I push the scrap of paper back behind the toilet and prepare to drown myself. It is a sweet moment, the second I stop breathing. The guards will find me here, my head in a toilet bowl. What an unsophisticated way to go. Goodbye world, you have been fair to me, given me every chance, but now it will all be wasted. The letter may fall into worthy hands, or the hands of a brainless oaf who will tear it and dispose of it. I daren't guess. I consider all I have left in these few seconds. I have my life, but not for much longer. I have my name, but nothing else, not even my voice. Nothing but my name, meaningless letters in a meaning less name. Francesca Amert.

Dear reader
My name is Francesca Amert. I am 15 years of age. I am recording my last words, though of what use they will be to you I know not.
I was born in London in 1877. My father was thrilled though my mother was apparently indifferent. I was told I was a vampire in an official letter from Her Majesty's government. I panicked and cried. I was distraught but I found comfort only in my father's arms. He said he would protect me and never let them take me. We were to run away, the whole family. It was while he was out finalising arrangements that they came. My mother let me go, I suspect she smiled as they threw my in their carriage.
I will soon end my life and good riddance, but hear my words and take head. I do not know you, but if you are in my situation they would like to offer you a prayer of hope, and even though I will never speak with you, laugh with you, cry with you, you are my dearest friend. I know the feeling of chilling dread you feel everyday. If like me, you gaze at the sunset and feel its warmth, then we are very close. Strive to live, and if you find no will to go on, please know, that I know what you are feeling. I have felt everything you are going through. These words may seem meaningless to you. Simple words on paper. But words have power. Maybe they will end our suffering and give vampires rights, who knows? But now these words have deep meaning in the right content.
These are the ramblings of my dying mind. Words, names, friends, rights. Goodnight world, my sunset is over, night has begun. All I have left is my name.
Francesca Amert