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cover and a cream rug on the floorboards. Over in the corner was a neat desk with a compact PC, a set of speakers and an iPod. Maybe I’d been expecting some black satin sheets or, well, I don’t know really, just not this. Luke’s bedroom at university was always crammed with stuff, and if honest was a little smelly, but at least it was interesting; it showed me who he was. This room told me nothing.
         I sat at the desk with a new mug of dark, silky blood, which was an acquired taste, but like Twiglets or Marmite, it set your taste buds alight and made you want more. I booted up, waiting for Google to load. I initially did a search on the BBC, but soon found more information on the northwest news sites. I looked in horror at the photos of the blood-stained alleyway and then read the reports. I began to feel strangely detached. It didn’t seem real. After all I was sitting here; I wasn’t dead after all. However, as I read the statements from my family and friends, my eyes blurred and I struggled to read about their grief. It was still far too raw.
         I read the report of how my body had been found in the early hours of the morning. It confirmed, as Daniel had already told me, that I’d been stabbed once in my back, piercing a major artery from which I’d bled to death within a matter of minutes. There’d also been multiple internal injuries, caused by a continuous kicking which had fractured my spine and would have left me paralysed if I’d not died; and of course there was the sliced cheek to mark their work.
         Anger coursed through my body like an electric jolt, as I read about the gang and how they’d left other girls for dead. Some of these had survived, but were scarred for life and too scared to prosecute. I wanted to kill them, to rip out their throats and fling them aside like rubbish. Whoa! The feelings shocked me to the bone and I wondered if they were due to being a vampire, or just being a victim.
         Due to the cheek wound, my missing handbag, and the fact that they found my shoes several feet away, the police had correctly assumed that I’d stupidly tried to run. Even though they knew all this, they were currently at a loss, unable to proceed, as there was no evidence and no CCTV cameras on that alleyway. They had interviewed all the girls and come up with nothing helpful, as they all had fabricated alibis. They’d ended my life, and they were getting away with it. I hated them.
         I clicked on photos of me happy and smiling, contrasting with the photos of my family and friends. Alex was caught up in a cloud of guilt because she left the club without me, and Luke, the grieving boyfriend who’d been met at Manchester airport with the worst possible news. Further on, I noticed they’d managed to track down my father and the paps had got a picture of him leaving the funeral home, his face drawn, his eyes sad. The poor man had lost his wife only a year ago, and now his only child; and all because some silly power-hungry girls had decided I didn’t respect them enough.
         I stared at the images on the PC and suddenly it all became clear. I realised what I’d lost, and also what Daniel had saved me for. The three people who meant the world to me deserved to know I was still here. I had to find a way to still be there for them; Daniel was to thank for that. He found me. He saved me and gave me this new life, and I wasn’t going to waste it.

Chapter Three
 
I looked up and into his dark, almost black eyes. This man who said I’d called to him, this man who had given me another chance at life. He looked young, maybe only a couple of years older than me, yet his eyes were full of history, knowledge and experience.
         ‘Daniel, how old are you?’
         ‘I was born in 1891 in India. My father worked in the Indian Civil Service for the British Raj. So I suppose I’m 118,’ he said with a