"Vampire, eh?" he chuckled, "I already knew. That's why I chose you." He started gently brushing my hair again. "I've known you for a while. That's why I'm so surprised you don't remember my name."

Come to think of it... Why didn't I remember his name..?

"Hey."

I snapped back to his gaze.

"How old are you?"

How... How old I...?

I couldn't for the life of me remember how old I was. I kept revisiting my past, trying to think of my earliest memories.

....Of my family..

I knew you were stupid, but I didn't think you were so foolish as to fry your brain with all those drugs so much that you didn't know how old you were!!"

I felt very stupid for not knowing my own age. At parties, I always told some chick or dude that I was 23. That's about how old I look anyway. I never really thought about how important time is to humans. Once a pure blooded vampire like me matures, we don't age anymore. Nothing ever changes. We will always be the same person, have the same face, same intentions...

Even so, I had to have been born sometime. Let's see...

I think my earliest memory is from about the turn of the 18th century. Yes, I was very small. Maybe 3? 4? I was running around in my family's hedge maze, being chased, I think. I glanced behind myself.

Behind me, quickly gaining, was a teenage boy with long, curly, dark brown hair. He was wearing all black. It felt as though that was normal for him to wear. He had a kind looking face with bright, blue eyes. His clothes, with the hose and pantaloons, minus too many ruffles, confirmed my suspicion it was the early 1700s.

Why the hell can't I put a name to that face?

"Well, even if you did know," Lance interrupted, "I still wouldn't expect you to be able to answer."

Mighty nice for someone holding me hostage...

Lance sighed as he took away the brush. "I guess we're done here."

He stood up and held his hand out to me, urging me to take it with such a kind smile.

Don't buy into it.

It's all a front.

He doesn't actually like you whatsoever.